Now Nestor heard that tumult while he drank,
but finished drinking. Then he turned and said
to Asklêpios’ son:
“Consider now, Makháôn,
what had best be done here. Battlecries
of young fighters are louder, near the ships.
As for yourself, be easy, drink my wine,
till Hékamêdê has a caldron warmed
and bathes your clotted blood away. For my part,
I’ll go outside and find a lookout point.”
He picked up in the hut a shield that lay there |
10 |
all aglow with bronze—one that belonged
to a son of his, the horseman Thrasymêdês,
who bore that day his father’s shield. Then Nestor
chose a burly newly whetted spear,
and stepping out he saw that grim day’s work
Akhaians driven back, at hay; elated
Trojans pressing on; the wall torn down.
As when the open ocean
rises in a leaden smooth ground swell,
forerunner of high winds; a rocking swell, |
20 |
directionless, that neither rolls nor breaks
until the blow comes on from Zeus: just so
the old man pondered, with divided mind,
whether to turn toward the Danáän mass
or find and join Lord Marshal Agamémnon.
Then he decided; it seemed best to him
to join the son of Atreus.
In the line,
soldiers meanwhile fought on to strip each other,
metal upon their bodies clanging loud
with sword blows and the double-bladed spears. |
30 |
But now to Nestor’s side the princes came
along the shipways, those who had been hit:
Diomêdês, Odysseus, Agamémnon,
leaving the rear where, distant from the fighting,
ships were beached along the wash of surf—
higher inland were those first dragged ashore
around whose sterns the wall was built.
In rows
they kept the ships drawn up; even that wide shore
could not contain the fleet in one long line;
they hauled them up, therefore, wave after wave, |
40 |
and filled the beach between two promontories.
Now headed inland, eyes upon the mêlée,
the princes came that way, leaning on spears,
with aching hearts; and the advent of Nestor
gave their hearts a new twinge. Agamémnon
hailed him, saying:
“Nestor, son of Nêleus,
pride of Akhaians! Why turn this way, seaward,
away from the battle-danger? Now I fear
their champion, Hektor, will make good his word,
the threat he made in his harangue to Trojans, |
50 |
not to return to Ilion from the beachhead
until he fired our ships and killed our men.
So he proclaimed; now it is coming true.
My god, it seems the rest of the Akhaians,
like Akhilleus, hold a grudge against me!
They have no will to fight, to save the ships.”
Lord Nestor of Gerênia replied:
“What you describe is all too clear. High-thundering
Zeus himself could not now otherwise
dispose the fight: those walls are overthrown |
60 |
we put our trust in as impregnable,
a bulwark for the ships and for ourselves.
The enemy have brought the battle down
hard on the ships; you could not if you tried
make out whether from left or right our troops
are harried most and thrown into confusion.
Men go down on every hand; their death-cries
rise in air.
We must think what to do,
if any good can be achieved by thinking.
I do not say that we should enter combat; |
70 |
hurt men cannot fight.”
And the Lord Marshal
Agamémnon said:
“Since now they press the fight
around the ships’ sterns, neither wall nor moat
made any difference, though painful labor
built them, and Danáäns dearly hoped
they’d make a shield to save our ships and men—
this must be somehow satisfactory
to the high mind of Zeus, that far from Argos
Akhaians perish here without a name.
I knew it when he favored us and saved us, |
80 |
I know it now, when he glorifies our enemies,
treating them like gods! He tied our hands,
he took the heart out of us.
Come, everyone
do as I say: haul down the line of ships
nearest the sea to launch on the bright breakers,
moor them afloat till starry night comes on
and Trojans break off battle. Under cover
of darkness we may launch the rest.
There’s no disgrace in getting away from ruin,
not by a night retirement. Better a man |
90 |
should leave the worst behind him than be caught.”
Odysseus, the great tactician, frowned
and looked at him and answered:
“Son of Atreus,
what kind of talk is this?
Hell’s misery! I’d put you in command
of some disordered rabble, not an army
strong as our own. Our lot from youth to age
was given us by Zeus: danger and war
to wind upon the spindle of our years
until we die to the last man. |
100 |
Would you, then,
quit and abandon forever the fine town
of Troy that we have fought for all these years,
taking our losses? Quiet! or some other
Akhaians may get wind of this. No man
who knew what judgment is in speech could ever
allow that thought to pass his lips—no man
who bore a staff, whom army corps obeyed,
as Argives owe obedience to you.
Contempt, no less, is what I feel for you
after the sneaking thing that you propose. |
110 |
While the two armies are in desperate combat,
haul our ships into the sea? You’d give
the Trojans one more thing to glory over—
and they are winning out, god knows, already!
As for ourselves, sheer ruin is what it means.
While our long ships are hauled down, will the soldiers
hold the line? Will they not look seaward
and lose their appetite for battle? There,
commander, is your way to wreck us all.”
Lord Marshal Agamémnon answered him: |
120 |
“You hit hard, and the blow comes home, Odysseus.
Let it be clear I would not urge the troops
to launch, against their will and yours, not I.
Whoever has a better plan should speak,
young man or old; I would be glad to hear it.”
Now Diomêdês of the great warcry
spoke up:
“Here’s one. No need to go afield for it.
If you are willing to be swayed, and are not
irritated with me, the youngest here.
I, too,
can claim a brave and noble father, Tydeus, |
130 |
whom funeral earth at Thebes has mounded over.
To Portheus three excellent sons were born,
who lived in Pleurôn and in Kálydôn—
Ágrios, Mélas, and the horseman Oineus,
bravest of all and father of my father.
Oineus remained there, while my wandering father
settled in Argos. It was the will of Zeus
and of the other gods.
He took Adrêstos’
daughter as bride and founded a great house:
grainlands enough he owned, and he owned orchards |
140 |
thick with trees, and herds and flocks aplenty.
Beyond that, he was best of all Akhaians
in handling a spear: you must have heard this
and know the truth of it. My lineage
therefore is noble. If what I say’s well said
you may not disregard it.
Let us go
this way to battle, wounded as we are;
we have no choice. There in the field we may
keep clear of missiles, not to be hit again,
but put heart in the rest. Just as before, |
150 |
they save themselves, and shirk the fight.”
the others listening hard gave their assent.
They turned, and Agamémnon led them forward.
This was not lost on the god who shakes the earth,
who now appeared as an old man and walked
beside them, taking Agamémnon’s hand,
saying to him in a clear voice rapidly:
“Son of Atreus, think how the fierce heart
must sing now in Akhilleus’ breast,
to see the slaughter and rout of the Akhaians! |
160 |
Compassion is not in him. Let him rot, then!
Some god crush him! But the gods in bliss
are not unalterably enraged with you.
Somehow the hour will come when Trojan captains
make the wide plain smoke with dust, in chariots
racing from camp and ships back to the city!”
Launching himself upon the field of war,
he broke into a shout nine or ten thousandy
men who yelled in battle might have made,
meeting in shock of combat: from his lungs |
170 |
the powerful Earthshaker sent aloft
a cry like that. In every Akhaian heart
he put the nerve to fight and not be broken.
Now Lady Hêra of the Golden Chair
had turned her eyes upon the war. She stood
apart upon a snowcrest of Olympos
and recognized her brother-in-law, her brother,
striving in battle, breathing hard—a sight
that pleased her. Then she looked at Zeus, who rested
high on the ridge of Ida bright with springs, |
180 |
and found him odious.
Her ladyship
of the wide eyes took thought how to distract
her lord who bears the stormcloud. Her best plan,
she thought, was this: to scent and adorn herself
and visit Ida, hoping hot desire
might rise in him—desire to lie with her
and make love to her nakedness—that so
she might infuse warm slumber on his eyes
and over his shrewd heart.
She entered then
the chamber built for her by her own son, |
190 |
Hêphaistos, who had fitted door to doorpost
using a secret bolt no god could force.
These shining doors the goddess closed behind her,
and with ambrosia cleansed all stain away
from her delectable skin. Then with fine oil,
she smoothed herself, and this, her scented oil,
unstoppered in the bronze-floored house of Zeus,
cast fragrance over earth and heaven. Hêra,
having anointed all her graceful body,
and having combed her hair, plaited it shining |
200 |
in braids from her immortal head. That done,
she chose a wondrous gown, worked by Athêna
in downy linen with embroideries.
She caught this at her breast with golden pins
and girt it with a waistband, sewn all around
with a hundred tassels.
Then she hung
mulberry-colored pendants in her earlobes,
and loveliness shone round her. A new headdress
white as the sun she took to veil her glory,
and on her smooth feet tied her beautiful sandals. |
210 |
Exquisite and adorned from head to foot
she left her chamber. Beckoning Aphrodítê,
she spoke to her apart from all the rest:
“Will you give heed to me, and do as I sa,
and not be difficult? Even though you are vexed
that I give aid and comfort to Danáäns
as you do to the Trojans.”
Aphrodítê,
daughter of Zeus, replied:
“Hêra, most honored
of goddesses, being Krónos’ own daughter,
say what you have in mind! |
220 |
I am disposed to do it if I can,
and if it is a thing that one may do.”
And Lady Hêra, deep in her beguilement,
answered:
“Lend me longing, lend me desire,
by which you bring immortals low
as you do mortal men!
I am on my way
to kind Earth’s bourne to see Okéanos,
from whom the gods arose, and Mother Tethys.
In their great hall they nurtured me, their gift
from Rhea, when Lord Zeus of the wide gaze |
230 |
put Krónos down, deep under earth and sea.
I go to see them and compose their quarrel:
estranged so long, they have not once made love
since anger came between them. Could I coax them
into their bed to give and take delight,
I should be prized and dear to them forever.”
Aphrodítê, lover of smiling eyes,
replied to her:
“It is not possible
and not expedient, either, to deny you,
who go to lie in the great arms of Zeus.” |
240 |
Now she unfastened from around her breast
a pieced brocaded girdle. Her enchantments
came from this: allurement of the eyes,
hunger of longing, and the touch of lips
that steals all wisdom from the coolest men.
This she bestowed in Hêra’s hands and murmured:
“Take this girdle, keep it in your breast.
Here are all suavities and charms of love.
I do not think you will be ineffective
in what you plan.” |
250 |
Then wide-eyed Hêra smiled
and smiling put the talisman in her breast.
Aphrodítê entered her father’s house,
but Hêra glided from Olympos, passing
Piéria and cherished Emathía,
flashing above the snowy-crested hills
of Thracian horsemen. Never touching down,
she turned from Athos over the sea waves
to Lemnos, to the stronghold of old Thoas.
Here she fell in with Sleep, brother of Death,
and took his hand and held it, saying warmly: |
260 |
“Sleep, sovereign of gods and all mankind,
if ever you gave heed to me before,
comply again this time, and all my days
I shall know well I am beholden. Lull
to sleep for me the shining eyes of Zeus
as soon as I lie down with him in love.
Then I shall make a gift to you, a noble,
golden, eternal chair: my bandy-legged
son Hêphaistos by his craft will make it
and fit it with a low footrest |
270 |
where you may place your feet while taking wine.”
But mild sweet Sleep replied:
“Most venerable
goddess, daughter of Krónos, great of old,
among the gods who never die, I might
easily lull another to sleep—yes, even
the ebb and flow of cold Okéanos,
the primal source of all that lives.
But Zeus, the son of Krónos? No, not I.
I could not venture near him, much less lull him,
unless by his command. |
280 |
One other time
you taught me something, giving me a mission,
when Hêraklês, the prodigious son of Zeus,
had plundered Ilion and come away.
That day indeed I cast my spell
on the Father’s heart; I drifted dim about him,
while you prepared rough sailing for the hero.
In the open sea you stirred a gale that drove
Hêraklês on Kos Island, far from friends.
Then Zeus woke up and fell into a fury
and hurled the gods about his hall, in quest
of me above all. Out of heaven’s air |
290 |
into deep sea to be invisible forever
he would have plunged me, had not Night preserved me,
all-subduing Night,
mistress of gods and men. I fled to her,
and he for all his rage drew back, for fear
of doing a displeasure to swift Night.
A second time you ask me to perform
something I may not.”
But to this she answered:
“Why must you dwell on that unhappy day? |
300 |
Can you believe that Zeus who views the wide world
will be as furious in defense of Trojans
as for his own son, Hêraklês?
No, no.
Come. I should add, my gift to you will be
one of the younger Graces for a mistress,
ever to be called yours.”
In eager pleasure,
Sleep said:
“Swear by Styx’ corroding water!
Place one hand on earth, grassland of herds,
and dip your other hand in dazzling sea:
all gods with Krónos in the abyss, attest |
310 |
that I shall marry one of the younger Graces,
Pásithea, the one I have desired
all my living days.”
Without demur,
Hêra whose arms shone white as ivory
took oath as he demanded. Each by name
she called on all the powers of the abyss,
on all the Titans. Then, when she had sworn,
these two departed in the air from Lemnos,
putting on veils of cloudrack, lightly running
toward Ida, mother of beasts and bright with springs. |
320 |
At Lekton promontory, from the sea
they veered inland and upland. At their passage
treetops were in commotion underfoot.
But Sleep soon halted and remained behind
before he came in range of Zeus’ eyes.
He mounted a tall pine, the tallest one
on Ida, grown through mist to pierce the sky.
Amid the evergreen boughs he hid and clung
and seemed that mountain thrush of the clear tone,
called “khalkis” by the gods, by men “kymindis.” |
330 |
Hêra swept on to Gárgaron, Ida’s crest,
and there Zeus, lord of cloud, saw her arrive.
He gazed at her, and as he gazed desire
veiled his mind like mist, as in those days
when they had first slipped from their parents’ eyes
to bed, to mingle by the hour in love.
He stood before her now and said:
“What brings you
down from Olympos to this place?
The chariot you ride is not in sight.”
The Lady Hêra answered him in guile: |
340 |
“I go my way to the bourne of Earth, to see
Okéanos, from whom the gods arose,
and Mother Tethys. In their distant hall
they nourished me and cared for me in childhood.
Now I must see them and compose their strife.
They live apart from one another’s bed,
estranged so long, since anger came between them.
As for my team, it stands at Ida’s base
ready to take me over earth and sea.
On your account I came to see you first, |
350 |
so that you will not rage at me for going
in secret where Okéanos runs deep.”
The lord of cloud replied:
“But you may go there
later, Hêra. Come, lie down. We two
must give ourselves to love-making. Desire
for girl or goddess in so wild a flood
never came over me! Not for Ixion’s bride
who bore that peerless man, Peiríthoös;
or Dánaë with her delicious legs,
illustrious Perseus’ mother; or Eurôpa, |
360 |
daughter of Phoinix, world-renowned, who bore me
Mínos and magnificent Rhadamánthys;
Sêmêlê or Alkmênê, Theban ladies—
one bore the rugged hero Hêraklês,
the other Dionysos, joy of men—
or Dêmêtêr, the queen, in her blond braids;
or splendid Lêto; or yourself! No lust
as sweet as this for you has ever taken me!”
To this the Lady Hêra in her guile
replied: |
370 |
“Most formidable son of Krónos,
how impetuous! Would you lie down here
on Ida’s crest for all the world to see?
Suppose one of the gods who never die
perceived us here asleep and took the story
to all the rest? I could not bear to walk
directly from this love-bed to your hall,
it would be so embarrassing.
But if you must,
if this is what you wish, and near your heart,
there is my own bedchamber. Your dear son,
Hêphaistos, built it, and he fitted well |
380 |
the solid door and doorjamb. We should go
to lie down there, since bed is now your pleasure.”
But the lord marshal of stormcloud said:
“No fear
this act will be observed by god or man,
I shall enshroud us in such golden cloud.
Not even Hêlios could glimpse us through it,
and his hot ray is finest at discerning.”
At this he took his wife in his embrace,
and under them earth flowered delicate grass
and clover wet with dew; then crocuses |
390 |
and solid beds of tender hyacinth
came crowding upward from the ground. On these
the two lay down and drew around them purest
vapor of golden cloud; the droplets fell
away in sunlight sparkling. Soon the Father,
subjugated by love and sleep, lay still.
Still as a stone on Gárgaron height he lay
and slumbered with his lady in his arms.
The god of sleep went gliding to the beachhead
bearing word to the god who shakes the earth. |
400 |
He halted at his side and swiftly said:
“Warm to your work now, comfort the Danáäns,
even award them glory in the fight—
for a while at any rate—while Zeus is sleeping,
now that I’ve wrapped him in a night of sleep.
Hêra beguiled him into making love.”
And he was gone into far lands of fame
when he had stirred Poseidon to fight harder.
The god now gained the line in a single bound
and called out: |
410 |
“Argives, shall we yield to Hektor
once again? And let him take the ships,
let him win glory? He would have it so
because Akhilleus lingers by his ships,
anger in his heart.
Well, that great man
need not be missed too badly, if the rest of us
rally each other to defend ourselves.
Come, every man, and act on what I say:
the army’s best and biggest body shields
are those that we should wear, our heads encased
in helms that flash on every side, our hands |
420 |
upon the longest spears! And then attack!
I will myself go first. My life upon it,
Hektor for all his valor cannot hold us!
Any fresh man who bears against his shoulder
a light shield, give it now to a tired fighter,
and slip his own arm in a heavier one.”
The attentive soldiers acted on his words,
while Diomêdês, Odysseus, and Agamémnon,
wounded as they were, kept all in order.
Down the ranks they made exchange of gear, |
430 |
good gear to good men, poor to the inferior,
and when hard bronze was fitted to their bodies
all moved out. Poseidon took the lead,
in his right fist a blade fine-edged as lightning
that mortals may not parry in grievous war—
for blinding fear makes men stand back from it.
Hektor drew up the Trojan lines opposing,
and now the blue-maned god of sea and Hektor
brought to a dreadful pitch the clash of war,
one giving heart to Trojans, one to Argives. |
440 |
Waves of the sea ran berserk toward the Argive
huts and ships as the two armies closed
with a great cry. No surge from open sea,
whipped by a norther, buffets down on land
with such a roar, nor does a forest fire
in mountain valleys blazing up through woods,
nor stormwind in the towering boughs of oaks
when at its height it rages, make a roar
as great as this, when Trojans and Akhaians
hurled themselves at one another. |
450 |
Hektor
drove at Aías first with his great spear,
as Aías had swung round at him. He hit him
at that point where two belts crossed on his chest,
one for his shield, one for his studded sword,
and both together saved his skin. In rage
because the missile left his hand in vain,
Hektor fell back in ranks away from danger,
but as he drew away Telamônian Aías
picked up one of the wedging stones for ships
rolled out there, many, at the fighters’ feet, |
460 |
and smote him in the chest, above his shield-rim,
near his throat. The impact spun him round
reeling like a spent top. As an oak tree
under the stroke of Father Zeus goes down,
root and branch, and deadly fumes of brimstone
rise from it, and no man’s courage keeps him
facing it if he sees it—Zeus’ bolt
being rough indeed—so all Hektor’s élan
now dropped in dust. He flung his spear, his shield
and helm sank down with him, his blazoned armor |
470 |
clanged about him.
Yelling Akhaian soldiers
ran toward him, hoping to drag him off,
and they made play with clumps of spears. But none
could wound or hit the marshal of the Trojans,
being forestalled by the Trojan peers,
Aineías, Poulýdamas, and Agênor,
Sarpêdôn, chief of Lykians, and Glaukos.
None of the rest neglected him, but over him
all held up their round shields. Fellow-soldiers
lifted him in their arms to bear him off |
480 |
out of the grind of battle to his horses.
These were waiting in the battle’s rear
with painted chariot and driver. Now
toward Troy they carried Hektor, hoarsely groaning.
Reaching the ford of Xánthos, the clear stream
of eddying water that immortal Zeus
had fathered, from the car they laid him down
on the riverbank and splashed cool water on him.
Taking a deep breath, opening his eyes wide,
he got to his knees and spat dark blood, then backward |
490 |
sank again as black night hooded him,
stunned still by the hurled stone.
But the Argives,
seeing Hektor leave the field, were swift
to step up their attacks upon the Trojans,
taking new joy in battle. Out in front,
the runner, Aías, son of Oïleus, lunged
and wounded Sátnios Enópidês,
whom by the banks of Satnióeis river
a flawless naiad bore the herdsman, Enops.
This Sátnios the famous son of Oïleus,
coming in fast, speared in the flank. He tumbled, |
500 |
and then around him Trojans and Danáäns
clashed in bitter combat. Poulýdamas
took the lead, shaking his spear to guard him,
and struck Arêïlýkos’ son,
Prothoênor, square on the right shoulder,
his big spear passing through. Into the dust
he fell and clutched at earth with his spread hand.
Then Poulýdamas gloried, shouting high:
“By god, this time the spearshaft from the hand |
510 |
of Pánthoös’ son leapt out to some effect.
One of the Argives caught it in his flesh;
I can see him now, using it for a crutch,
as he stumps to the house of Death!”
His boasting brought
anguish to Argives, most of all to Aías,
veteran son of Télamôn: beside him
the dying man fell. Now with his shining spear
he thrust at the withdrawing enemy,
but he, Poulýdamas, with a sidewise leap
avoided that dark fate. Another got it— |
520 |
Arkhílokhos, for the gods had planned his ruin.
Just at the juncture of his neck and skull
the blow fell on his topmost vertebra
and cut both tendons through. Head, mouth, and nostrils
hit the earth before his shins and knees.
Now Aías in his turn to Poulýdamas
shouted:
“Think now, Poulýdamas, tell me truly
if this man was not worthy to be killed
for Prothoênor? as he seemed to me
no coward nor of cowards’ kind, but brother |
530 |
to Lord Antênor, master of horse, or else
his son, for he was very nearly like him.”
He said this knowing the answer well. And pain
seized Trojan hearts. Standing above his brother,
Akámas brought down Prómakhos, a Boiotian,
as he was tugging at the dead man’s feet.
Then gloating over him with a wild cry
Akámas said:
“You Argive arrow boys,
greedy for the sound of your own voices,
hardship and grief will not be ours alone! |
540 |
You’ll be cut down as he was! Only think,
the way your Prómakhos has gone to sleep
after my spear downed him—and no delay
in the penalty for my brother’s death. See why
a soldier prays that a kinsman left at home
will fight for him?”
And this taunt hurt the Argives.
Most of all, it angered Pênéleos
and he attacked Akámas, who retired
before his charge. Pênéleos, instead,
brought down Ilioneus, a son of Phórbas, |
550 |
the sheepherder, whom of all Trojans Hermês
favored most and honored with possessions,
although Ilioneus’ mother bore the man
that son alone.
Pênéleos drove his spearhead
into the eye-socket underneath the brow,
thrusting the eyeball out. The spearhead ran
straight through the socket and the skull behind,
and throwing out both hands he sat down backward.
Pênéleos, drawing his long sword, chopped through
the nape and set the severed helmeted head |
560 |
and trunk apart upon the field. The spear
remained in the eye-socket. Lifting up
the head by it as one would lift a poppy,
he cried out to the Trojans, gloating grimly:
“Go tell Ilioneus’ father and his mother
for me, Trojans, to mourn him in their hall.
The wife of Prómakhos, Alegênor’s son,
will not be gladdened by her husband’s step,
that day when we Akhaians make home port
in the ships from Troy.” |
570 |
And the knees of all the Trojans
were shaken by a trembling as each one
looked for a way to escape breath-taking death.
Muses in your bright Olympian halls,
tell me now what Akhaian most excelled
in winning bloodstained spoils of war
when the Earthshaker bent the battle line.
Aías Telamônios cut down
the Mysian leader, Hýrtios Gyrtíadês;
Antílokhos killed Mérmeros and Phálkês;
Meríonês, Mórys and Hippotíôn; |
580 |
Teukros, Prothoön and Períphêtês.
After that, Meneláos hit Hyperênor’s
flank, and the spearhead spilt his guts like water.
By the wound-slit, as by a doorway, life
left him in haste, and darkness closed his eyes.
But Aías the swift runner, son of Oïleus,
killed more than any: none could chase as he could
a soldier panicked in that god-sent rout.