Running among the stakes, crossing the moat,
many of them were cut down by Danáäns;
the remnant reached the chariots and stood there,
pale with fear, beaten.
And now Zeus
on Ida’s top by Hêra’s queenly side
awoke and rose in a single bound. He saw
the Trojans and Akhaians—Trojans routed,
pressed by Akhaians whom Poseidon joined;
saw Hektor stretched out on the battlefield,
brothers-in-arms around him, squatting down |
10 |
where he lay, faint and fighting hard for breath,
vomiting blood. The man who knocked him out
was not the weakest of Akhaians.
the father of gods and men was moved to pity.
He turned with a dark scowl and said to Hêra:
“Fine underhanded work, eternal bitch!
putting Lord Hektor out of action,
breaking his fighting men! I should not wonder
if this time you will be the first to catch it,
a whip across your shoulders for your pains! |
20 |
Do you forget swinging so high that day?
I weighted both your feet with anvils,
lashed both arms with golden cord
you couldn’t break, and there you dangled
under open heaven amid white cloud.
Some gods resented this,
but none could reach your side or set you free.
Any I caught I pitched headfirst
over our rampart, half-dead, down to earth!
Yet even so my heartache for the hero, |
30 |
Hêraklês, would not be shaken off.
You and the north wind had connived, sent gales
against that man, brewed up sea-perils for him,
driven him over the salt waste to Kos Island.
I set him free, I brought him back
from all that toil to the bluegrass land of Argos.
These things I call to mind once more
to see to it that you mend your crooked ways.
Learn what you gain by lechery with me,
tricking me into it! That’s why you came, |
40 |
apart from all the gods!”
Now Hêra shuddered
answering in a clear low tone, protesting:
“Earth be my witness, and the open sky,
and oozing water of Styx—the gods can take
no oath more solemn or more terrifying—
and by your august person, too, I swear
as by our sacred bed—how could I lightly
swear by that?—no prompting word of mine
induced the god who makes the mainland shake
to do harm to the Trojans and to Hektor,
backing their enemies. It cannot be |
50 |
anything but his own heart that impels him.
Seeing the tired Akhaians in retreat
upon their own ships’ sterns, he pitied them.
But I—I too—should counsel him to go
where you command him, lord of darkening cloud.”
At this he smiled, the father of gods and men,
and lightly came his words upon the air:
“Then in the time to come, my wide-eyed lady,
supposing you should care to sit with me |
60 |
in harmony among the immortal gods,
for all Poseidon’s will to the contrary,
he must come round to meet your wish and mine.
If what you say is honest, then rejoin
the gods’ company now, and call for Iris,
call for Apollo with his wondrous bow.
Iris will go amid the mailed Akhaians
with my word to Poseidon: Quit the war,
return to your own element. Apollo
must then brace Hektor for the fight and breathe |
70 |
new valor in him, blot from his memory
the pangs that now wear out his spirit. Let him
shatter the Akhaians into retreat,
helpless, in panic, till they reach the ships
of Pêleus’ son, Akhilleus. Then that prince
will send Patróklos, his great friend, to war,
and Hektor in glory before Ilion
by a spear-cast will bring Patróklos down,
though he destroy a host of men, my son,
Sarpêdôn, being among them. Aye, for this |
80 |
the Prince Akhilleus in high rage
will kill heroic Hektor. From that moment
I’ll turn the tide of battle on the beach
decisively, once and for all,
until the Akhaians capture Ilion,
as Athêna planned and willed it. But until
that killing I shall not remit my wrath.
Nor shall I let another god take part
on-the Danáäns’ side—no, not before
the heart’s desire of the son of Pêleus |
90 |
shall have been consummated. So I promised,
so with a nod I swore, that day when Thetis
touched my knees and begged me to give honor
to Akhilleus, raider of cities.”
When he finished,
Hêra took pains to follow his command:
from Ida’s crests she flashed to high Olympos
quick as a thought in a man’s mind.
Far and wide a journeying man may know
the earth and with his many desires may dream,
“Now let me be in that place or that other!” |
100 |
Even so instantaneously Queen Hêra
passed to steep Olympos. She appeared
in the long hall of Zeus amid the immortals,
who rose, lifting their cups to her.
She passed,
ignoring all the rest, but took a cup
from rose-checked Themis, who carne running out
to meet her, crying:
“Hêra,
why have you come back? Oh, how dazed you look!
Your husband must have given you a fright!”
To this the beautiful goddess with white arms |
110 |
replied:
“No need to ask, my lovely Themis.
You know how harsh and arrogant he is.
Preside now at our feast,
here in the hall of the gods, and with the rest
you’ll hear what cruelty he shows.
Among mortals or gods, I rather think
not everyone will share his satisfaction,
although one still may feast and be at ease.”
The Lady Hêra finished and sat down,
and all turned sullen in the hall of Zeus. |
120 |
Her lips were smiling, but the frown remained
unsmoothed upon her brow. Then she broke out
in her bad temper:
“Oh, what mindless fools
to lay plans against Zeus! And yet we do,
we think we can be near him, and restrain him,
by pleading or by force. But there he sits
apart from us, careless of us, forever
telling us he is quite beyond us all
in power and might, supreme among the gods!
So each must take what trouble he may send. |
130 |
And this time grief’s at hand
for Arês; yes, his son died in the fighting,
dearest of men to him: Askálaphos.
The strong god Arês claimed that man for son.”
Now Arês smote his thighs with open hands
and groaned:
“You must not take it ill, Olympians,
if I go down amid the Akhaian ships
to avenge my son—and so I will, though fate
will have me blasted by the bolt of Zeus
to lie in bloody dust among the dead!” |
140 |
He called to Terror and Rout to yoke his horses
while he put on his shining gear. Now soon
another greater and more bitter fury
would have been roused in Zeus against the gods,
had not Athêna, gravely fearing for them,
left the chair she sat on, and come forward
out of the forecourt. She removed the helm
from Arês’ head, the great shield from his shoulder,
and laid his spear down, lifted from his hand.
Then she spoke to rebuke the angry god: |
150 |
“You’ve lost your mind, mad one, this is your ruin!
No use your having ears to listen with—
your self-possession and your wits are gone.
Have you not taken in what Hêra says,
who just now came from Zeus? Do you desire
to have your bellyful of trouble first
and find yourself again upon Olympos,
rage as you will, brought back by force, moreover
bringing a nightmare on the rest of us?
In a flash he’ll turn from Trojans and Akhaians |
160 |
and create pandemonium on Olympos,
laying hands on everyone alike,
guilty or not. Therefore I call on you
to drop your anger for your son. By now
some better man than he in strength and skill
has met his death in battle, or soon will.
There is no saving the sons of all mankind.”
Then in his chair she seated burly Arês.
Hêra now called Apollo from the hall
with Iris, messenger of the immortals. |
170 |
Lifting her voice, addressing both, she said:
“Zeus commands you with all speed to Ida.
Once you are there and face him, you’ll perform
whatever mission he may set for you.”
With this the Lady Hêra turned away
and took her chair again, as off they soared
toward Ida, bright with springs, mother of beasts.
On Gárgaron height they found him at his ease,
the broad-browed son of Krónos, garlanded
by fragrant cloud. The two gods took their stand |
180 |
before him who is master of the storm—
and he regarded them, unstirred by anger,
seeing their prompt obedience to his lady.
Then to Iris he said:
“Away with you,
light foot, take my message to Poseidon,
all of it; do not misreport it; say
he must give up his part in war and battle,
consort with gods or else go back to sea.
But if he disobeys or disregards me,
let him remember: for all his might, |
190 |
he does not have it in him to oppose me.
I am more powerful by far than he,
and senior to him. He has forgotten this,
claiming equality with me. All others
shrink from that.”
Then running on the wind
swift Iris carried out his order. Down
from Ida’s hills she went to Ilion,
as snow or hail flies cold from winter cloud,
driven by north wind born in heights of air.
So Iris flew in swiftness of desire, |
200 |
halting beside the Earthshaker to say:
“O girdler of the earth, sea-god, blue-maned,
I bear a message from the lord of storm.
You must give up the battle, must retire
amid the gods, or else go back to sea.
But if you disobey or disregard him,
he warns you he will take a hand in war
against you, coming here himself. You would
do well to avoid that meeting, he advises,
seeing he’s far more powerful than you |
210 |
and senior to you. You have overlooked this,
claiming equality with him. All others
shrink from that.”
His face grown dark with rage,
the great Earthshaker said:
“The gall of him!
Noble no doubt he is, but insolent, too,
to threaten me with forcible restraint
who am his peer in honor.
Sons of Krónos
all of us are, all three whom Rhea bore,
Zeus and I and the lord of those below.
All things were split three ways, to each his honor, |
220 |
when we cast lots. Indeed it fell to me
to abide forever in the grey sea water;
Hadês received the dark mist at the world’s-end,
and Zeus the open heaven of air and cloud.
But Earth is common to all, so is Olympos.
No one should think that I shall live one instant
as he thinks best! No, let him hold his peace
and power in his heaven, in his portion,
not try intimidating me—
I will not have it—as though I were a coward. |
230 |
Better to roar and thunder at his own,
the sons and daughters he himself has fathered!
They are the ones who have to listen to him.”
Wind-swift Iris answered:
“Shall I put it
just that way, god of the dark blue tresses,
bearing this hostile message back to Zeus?
Or will you make some change? All princely hearts
are capable of changing. And, you know,
the Furies take the part of elder brothers!”
Poseidon made reply: |
240 |
“Excellent Iris,
very well said; that is a point well taken;
it is a fine thing when a messenger
knows what is fitting.
But it irks me
his being so quarrelsome, railing at me
who am his peer in destiny and rank.
I yield, though—but I take it ill, by heaven.
And there is more to say: with all my power
I warn him, if without me and Athêna,
Hêra and Hermês and the Lord Hêphaistos,
he should make up his mind alone |
250 |
to spare steep Ilion, and will not sack it,
will not give the Argives the upper hand,
then he incurs our unappeasable anger.”
When he had said this, turning from the Akhaians,
into the deep he plunged, and the soldiers missed him.
Then, to Apollo, Zeus who gathers cloud
said:
“Go, dear Phoibos, to the side of Hektor,
now that the god who shakes the earth has gone
into the salt immortal sea. He shunned
our towering anger. Had he not, some others |
260 |
might have had lessons in the art of war—
even the gods below, round fallen Krónos.
But it is better far for both
that even though he hates it he give way
before my almighty hands. Not without sweat
would that affair have been concluded.
Well,
take for yourself my tasseled shield of stormcloud,
and shake it hard with lightning overhead
to rout the Akhaian soldiers. God of archery,
make Hektor your own special charge. |
270 |
Arouse his utmost valor till, in rout,
the Akhaians reach the ships and Hellê’s waters.
There I myself shall conjure word and act
to give once more a respite to Akhaians.”
Without demurring at his father’s words
Apollo glided from the heights of Ida,
like that swiftest of birds, the peregrine.
He found Prince Hektor, Priam’s son,
no longer supine but just now recovered,
sitting up, able to see and know |
280 |
his friends’ faces around him; his hard panting
and sweating had been eased. The mind of Zeus,
master of cloud, reanimated him.
And standing near the man, Apollo said:
“Hektor, why do you sit here, weak and sick,
far from the rest? What has come over you?”
And Hektor of the shining helmet answered,
whispering hoarsely:
“Excellency, who are you?
A god? What god, to face and question me?
Do you not know that near the Akhaian sterns |
290 |
where I had killed his friends, formidable
Aías hit my chest with a great stone
and knocked the fighting spirit out of me?
In fact I thought this day I’d see the dead
in the underworld—I thought I had breathed my last!”
Apollo, lord of archery, replied:
“Be of good heart. The god you see, from Ida,
the Lord Zeus sent to fight with you in battle.
I am Apollo of the golden sword;
I rescued you before, you and your city. |
300 |
Up, then; tell your host of charioteers
to charge the deepsea ships. I shall go first
and cut a passage clean for chariot horses,
putting Akhaian soldiery to rout.”
This inspired a surge of fighting spirit
in the commander’s heart.
As when a stallion,
long in the stall and full-fed at his trough,
snaps his halter and goes cantering off
across a field to splash in a clear stream,
rearing his head aloft triumphantly |
310 |
with mane tossed on his shoulders, glorying
in his own splendor, and with driving knees
seeking familiar meadowland and pasture:
just so Hektor, sure-footed and swift,
sped on the chariots at the god’s command.
And the Akhaians? Think of hunting dogs
and hunters tracking a wild goat or a stag
to whom steep rock and dusky wood
give cover, so the hunters are at a loss
and by their cries arouse a whiskered lion |
320 |
full in their path, at which they all fall back,
eager as they have been for prey: just so,
Danáäns thronging in pursuit, and drawing
blood with swords and double-bladed spears,
when they caught sight of Hektor coming on
toward their front rank, turned round in sudden terror,
courage ebbing to their very feet.
But now they heard from Thoas, son of Andraimôn,
bravest of the Aitolians, a tough man
at spear-throwing and in close combat, too; |
330 |
and few Akhaians bested him in assembly
when the young vied in argument:
he cried, “this marvel that I see ahead:
Hektor escaped from death, he’s on his feet.
God knows, each one of us had hoped and prayed
he died from Aías’ blow! But no, some god
protected him and saved him. This same Hektor
broke the strength of many a Danáän,
and now he will again. Without some help
from Zeus who thunders in high heaven |
340 |
he could not lead this charge so furiously.
Come, then, everyone do as I advise:
the rank and file we’ll order to the rear,
back to the ships. But we who count ourselves
as champions in the army will stand fast.
We may contain him if we face him first
with ranked spears. Wild as he is, I think
that in his heart he fears to mix with us.”
Assenting to this speech they acted on it.
Those with Aías and Idómeneus, |
350 |
Teukros, Meríonês, the veteran Mégês,
formed for close-order combat, calling first-rate
spearmen to face Hektor and the Trojans.
Meanwhile the rank and file fell back
upon the Akhaian ships.
All in a mass
with jutting spears the Trojans came, as Hektor
strode in command. Apollo, leading him,
was cloaked in a white cloud, and held the shield
of ominous stormcloud, with its trailing fringe.
The smith Hêphaistos gave this shield to Zeus |
360 |
to carry and strike fear in men. Apollo
handled it now as he led on the Trojans.
All in a mass the Argive captains stood,
and a sharp cry rose from both sides; then arrows
bounded from bowstrings; then from bold men’s hands
a rain of spears came. Some stuck fast in agile
fighters’ bodies; many between the ranks
fell short of the white flesh and stood a-quiver,
fixed in earth, still craving to be sated.
As long as Phoibos held the shield of stormcloud |
370 |
motionless, from both sides missiles flew,
men fell on both. But when he made it quake
with lightning, staring Danáäns in the face,
and gave, himself, a deafening battlecry,
he stunned them all and they forgot their valor.
As when a pair of wild beasts in the dusk
stampedes a herd of cows or a flock of sheep,
by a sudden rush, and no herdsman is near,
so the Akhaians lost their nerve and panicked.
Apollo sent the soul of rout among them, |
380 |
but glory to the Trojans and to Hektor.
Each man slew his man in the broken field:
Hektor killed Stikhíos and Arkesílaös,
one’a Boiotian captain, and the other
comrade of brave Menéstheus; then Aineías
dispatched Medôn and Iasos: the first-named
a bastard son of Oïleus, and half-brother
of Aías: he had lived in Phýlakê
in exile from his own land, having murdered
a kinsman of his stepmother, Eriôpis. |
390 |
Iasos was a captain of Athenians
and son, so called, of Sphêlos Boukólidês.
Poulýdamas killed Mêkisteus—Ekhíos,
his father, fell in the early battle line
before Polítês—and heroic Agênor
killed Kloníos. As Dêïokhos ran,
Paris hit his shoulder from behind
and drove the brazen spearhead through his chest.
While Trojans stripped these dead, Akhaians
crowding into the ditch among the stakes |
400 |
were forced in a wild scramble across the wall.
So Hektor with a great shout called his men:
“Sweep on the ships! Let bloodstained gear alone!
The man I see on the wrong side of the wall,
away from the ships, will die there by my hand.
They won’t be lucky enough to burn his corpse—
his women and his kin; wild dogs will drag him
before our city.”
he whipped his horses on, and called the Trojans
after him into the enemy’s ragged ranks, |
410 |
and all together, guiding the chariot horses,
gave a savage cry. Far in the lead
Apollo kicked the embankment of the ditch
into the middle and so made a causeway,
wide as a spear-throw when a powerful man
puts his back into throwing. Over this
they poured in column, led on by Apollo
holding the dusky splendid shield of cloud.
As for the Akhaian rampart, in one sweep
he leveled it, as a boy on the seashore |
420 |
wipes out a wall of sand he built
in a child’s game: with feet and hands, for fun,
he scatters it again. Just so,
bright Phoibos, you threw down the Argive wall,
so long and hard to build, and terrified
the Argives. Backed up on the ships, they waited,
crying out to each other, lifting prayerful
hands to all the gods.
Gerênian Nestor,
lord of the western approaches to Akhaia,
stretching his hands out to the sky of stars, |
430 |
prayed:
“Father Zeus, if someone long ago
in Argos of the grainfields offered up
fat haunches of a cow or sheep in fire
and begged you for a safe return from Troy,
winning your promise and your nod, remember
now, Olympian! Defend us
against this pitiless day! Do not allow
Akhaians to be crushed this way by Trojans!”
Fervently he prayed, and the lord of wisdom
thundered a great peal, hearing the old man’s prayer. |
440 |
And at that peal of Zeus’ thunder, Trojans
thrilled with joy of battle, running harder
after the Argives.
Like a surging wave
that comes inboard a ship when a gale blows—
wind giving impetus to sea—the Trojans
crossed the rampart with a mighty cry
and whipped their chariots toward the sterns. Once there,
they fought close-up with double-bladed spears,
attackers from the chariots, defenders
high on the black hulls, thrusting down long pikes |
450 |
that lay aboard for sea-fights, double-length
in fitted sections, shod with biting bronze.
As long as both sides fought around the rampart
still remote from the ships, Patróklos stayed
inside the shelter with Eurýpylos
to give him pleasure, talking, and to treat
his aching wound with salve against the pain;
but when he knew the Trojans had crossed over,
knew by their cry the Danáäns were in rout,
he groaned and smote his thighs with open hands, |
460 |
and miserably he said:
“Eurpýlos,
I cannot linger with you here,
much as you need me. The big fight begins.
One of your men can keep you company,
but I must go to Akhilleus in a hurry
to make him join the battle. Who can say
if with god’s help I may convince and move him?
A friend’s persuasion is an excellent thing.”
Even as he spoke, he strode out. The Akhaians
meanwhile held position at the ships |
470 |
against the Trojan rush, but they could not
repel the Trojans, even outnumbering them,
nor could the Trojans break the Danáän line
to penetrate amid the huts and ships.
But as a chalkline in a builder’s hands—
a man who learned his whole craft from Athêna—
makes a deck-beam come out straight, just so
the line of battle had been sharply drawn.
Fighting went on around the various ships.
Hektor headed for Aías, and these two |
480 |
fought hard for a single ship; neither could Hektor
dislodge his enemy and fire the ship,
nor could the other force his attacker back—
for Hektor had Apollo on his side.
But Aías downed Kalêtôr, Klytíos’ son,
as he bore fire against the ships. He hit him
full in the chest, and down with clanging arms
he tumbled, as the torch fell from his hand.
When Hektor saw his cousin fall
before the black ship in the dust, he cried |
490 |
in a loud voice to Trojans and Lykians:
“Trojans, Lykians, Dardanoi, all soldiers,
now is no time to yield even an inch
here in the narrow ways! Defend Kalêtôr,
or they will take his arms! He died fighting
to win the ships!”
With this he aimed a cast
of shining spear at Aías, but he missed him,
aimed then a second cast at Lykophrôn,
a son of Mastôr, and a squire to Aías,
native of Kýthêra, but Aías’ guest |
500 |
on Sálamis, for he had killed a Kýthêran.
Now Hektor cleft this man above the ear
with his sharp spearhead as he stood by Aías.
Down in the dust upon his back he fell,
down from the ship’s stern, flopping, all undone.
Then Aías shivered and called out to his brother:
“Teukros, old soul, our friend Mastoridês,
our faithful friend, is dead. When he left Kýthêra
and lived with us, we loved and honored him
as much as our own parents. And now Hektor |
510 |
has killed the man. Where are your deadly arrows?
Where is the tough how that Apollo gave you?”
Teukros took it all in, and on the run
he came to join his brother. In his hand
he held the strung bow and a quiver of arrows.
Shooting, he made them flash upon the Trojans,
and hit Kleitos, Peisênor’s brilliant son,
companion of Poulýdamas Panthoïdês,
as he held hard his reins
520 |
close in where the wheeling lines were packed,
to do his best for Hektor and the Trojans.
Now in a flash his evil moment came,
and no one by his strength of will could stop it:
a quill of groaning pierced his neck behind.
He dropped out of the car. The horses reared,
then jerked the empty chariot backward rattling.
Lord Poulýdamas noticed it at once
and ran to catch the horses. These he gave
to Astynóös, Protiáon’s son, |
530 |
commanding him to hold the chariot near
and keep his eyes open. He himself
went hack to join the mêlée.
One more arrow
Teukros drew for Hektor helmed in bronze,
and would have stopped the battle for the ships
if that shot had dispatched him in his triumph.
But Zeus perceived it, and he guarded Hektor—
wrested that boon from Telamônian Teukros,
who as he pulled the smooth bow snapped the string.
The heavy-headed shaft went wide, the how |
540 |
dropped from his hands, and with a shiver Teukros
said to his brother:
“Damn the luck. Some god
is cutting off our prospects in this fight.
He forced the bow out of my hand and broke
the new gut I had whipped on it this morning
to stand the spring of many shafts.”
To this
Telamônian Aías answered:
“Well, old friend,
just let the bow and sheaf of arrows lie,
since a god wrecked them, spiting the Danáäns.
Take up a long pike, get a shield, and fight |
550 |
the Trojans that way, make the soldiers fight.
If the enemy is to take the ships,
they’ll know they are in a battle. Let us hold on
to joy of combat!”
inside his hut. He took his four-ply shield
hard on his shoulder, pulled on a well-made helm,
picked out a strong shaft shod with cutting bronze,
and ran out, taking his stand at Aías’ side.
Hektor had seen that weaponry undone,
and now he shouted to Trojans and Lykians: |
560 |
“Trojans, Lykians, Dardanoi, all soldiers,
friends, be men, take a fresh grip on courage
here by the decked ships. I have just seen
how Zeus crippled their champion’s archery!
Easy to see how men get strength from Zeus:
on the one hand, when he gives them glory,
on the other, when he saps their enemies.
Taking the heart out of the Argives now,
he reinforces us. Fight for the ships
as one man, all of you! And if one finds |
570 |
his death, his end, in some spear-thrust or cast,
then that is that, and no ignoble death
for a man defending his own land. He wins
a peaceful hearth for wife and children later,
his home and patrimony kept entire,
if only the Akhaians sail for home.”
He put fresh heart in every man by this.
But from the opposing line Aías called out
to his companions:
“Argives, where is your pride?
Isn’t it clear enough? Either we perish |
580 |
or else fight off this peril and are saved.
If Hektor burns our ships, will you get home
on foot, do you think? Maybe you cannot hear him
calling his whole army on, already
mad to fire the ships? No invitation
to dance, that shouting, but to a fight.
No plan,
no cleverness can serve us now but this:
to close with them and fight with all we have.
Better to win life or to lose it fighting
590 |
to death by slow degrees in grinding war
against these ships, by lesser men than we.”
This aroused and stiffened them. Then Hektor
slaughtered Skhedíos, son of Perimêdês,
chief of Phôkians, but Aías slaughtered
Laódamas, a captain of infantry,
Antênor’s brilliant son. And Poulýdamas
killed the Kyllênian, Ótos, comrade-in-arms
of Mégês and a captain of Epeians.
Seeing this, Mégês rushed, but Poulýdamas |
600 |
dodged aside and the spear-thrust missed. Apollo
would not allow the son of Pánthoös
to perish in that mêlée. Mégês wounded
Kroismos instead, full in the chest, and down
he tumbled, thudding. Mégês stripped his gear.
Against him then came Dólops, a good spearman,
skilled in warfare, valorous,
fathered by Lampós, best of men, a son
of Laomédôn. Dólops at close quarters
broke through the center of Mégês’ shield, |
610 |
but his close-woven battle jacket saved him,
one that he wore all fitted with bronze plates,
a cuirass Phyleus, his father, brought
out of Ephyra, from the Sellêeis river.
Marshal Euphêtês, host and friend, had given it
to wear as a defense against attackers
in war; this time it saved from mortal hurt
the body of his son. Now that son, Mégês,
thrust at the crown of Dólops’ helm. He broke
the horsehair plume away, and down it fell,
resplendent with fresh purple, in the dust. |
620 |
While Dólops kept his feet and went on fighting,
hoping for victory, the formidable
Meneláos came to Mégês’ aid,
obliquely and unseen, and hit the Trojan’s
shoulder from behind. The famished spearhead,
driven hard, passed through his chest, and down
headfirst he sprawled. The two Akhaians bent
to strip his shoulders of his gear. Then Hektor
called to Dólops’ kinsmen, first of all |
630 |
to Melánippos, Hiketáôn’s son,
who pastured shambling cattle in the old days
in Perkôtê, Troy’s foes being far away,
but when the ships of the Danáäns came
he went again to Ilion, and grew
distinguished among Trojans, lived with Priam
on equal terms with Priam’s sons.
Now Hektor
called to him, calling him by name, rebuked him,
saying:
“Melánippos, are we slackening?
Are you not moved at all by your cousin’s death? |
640 |
See how they make for Dólops’ armor! Go in
after them! No fighting at a distance
now, until we kill them—or they’ll storm
Troy’s height and lay her waste with all her sons.”
With this he plunged ahead, and the godlike man,
Melánippos, kept at his side.
Great Aías
tried to put fighting spirit in the Argives:
“Friends,” he cried, “respect yourselves as men,
respect each other in the moil of battle!
Men with a sense of shame survive |
650 |
more often than they perish. Those who run
have neither fighting power nor any honor.”
The men themselves wished to put up a fight
and took his words to heart. Around the ship
they formed a barrier of bronze. But Zeus
rallied the Trojans. Then Lord Meneláos,
clarion in war, said to Antílokhos:
“Antílokhos, of all the young Akhaians
no one is faster on his feet than you,
or tough as you in combat: you could make |
660 |
a sortie and take out some Trojan soldier.”
He himself hastened on, but roused the man,
who ran out with his shining javelin poised
and scanned the battle line. Trojans gave way
before the javelin-thrower, but his throw
was not wasted. He hit proud Melánippos,
Hiketáôn’s son, beside the nipple
as he moved up to battle. Down he went
slumping to earth, and darkness hid his eyes.
Antílokhos broke forward like a hound |
670 |
on a stricken deer that a hunter met and shot
on its way out of a thicket: even so,
Antílokhos threw himself upon you
to take your gear, Melánippos. But Hektor
made for him on the run along the line,
and fighter though he was, and fast, Antílokhos
would not resist but fled him—as a beast
that has done some depredation, killed a dog
or cowherd near the cattle, slinks away
before a crowd can gather. Nestor’s son |
680 |
ran off like that, while Hektor and the Trojans,
shouting high, rained javelins after him.
Once in the mass again, he turned and stood.
And now like lions, carnivores, the Trojans
hurled themselves at the ships. They brought to pass
what Zeus commanded, and he kept their valor
steadily awake. He dazed the Argives,
wresting glory away from them. That day
the purpose of his heart was to confer
the glory on Hektor, Priam’s son, enabling him |
690 |
to cast bright tireless fire on the ships
and so fulfill the special prayer of Thetis.
Zeus the lord of wisdom awaited that,
to see before his eyes the lightning glare
of a ship ablaze: for from that moment on
he had in mind reversal for the Trojans
and glory for Danáäns. Knowing all this,
he sent against the deepsea ships a man
who longed to burn them: Priam’s son,
Hektor, furious in arms as Arês |
700 |
raging, his spear flashing, or as fire
that rages, devastating wooded hills.
His mouth foamed with slaver, and his eyes
were flaming under dreadful brows, the helm
upon his temples nodded terribly
as he gave battle. From the upper air
Lord Zeus himself defended him and gave him
honor and power alone amid the host—
for he would be diminished soon: a day
of wrath for him at Lord Akhilleus’ hands |
710 |
was being wrought even then by Pallas Athêna.
Hektor, attacking, tried to break the lines
at that point where the Akhaian soldiery
was thickest, and their gear the best.
But not with all his ardor could he break them.
They held hard, locked solid, man to man,
like a sheer cliff of granite near the sea,
abiding gale winds on their shrieking ways
and surf that climbs the shingle with a roar:
so the Danáäns bore the Trojan rush |
720 |
and kept their feet and would not flee. But Hektor
ran with a flashing torch and tried them, first
from one side, then the other, and he plunged
the way a billow whipped up by a gale
beneath dark scud descends upon a ship,
and she is hidden stem to stern in foam,
as a great gust of wind howls in the sail
and sailors shake in dread; by a hair’s breadth
are they delivered from their death at sea:
just so Akhaian hearts were rent. And Hektor |
730 |
was like a pitiless lion coming down
on cattle, gone to graze in a great meadow,
hundreds of them, tended by a herdsman
not yet skilled at fighting a wild beast
to prevent the slaughter of a cow: poor fellow,
either at the forefront of the herd
or at the rear he keeps pace with his cattle,
but into their midst the lion leaps to take one
as all the rest stampede. Now the Akhaians,
under attack by Hektor and Father Zeus, |
740 |
broke and ran like cattle. One man only
Hektor killed: Períphêtês, a Mykênaian,
son of Kopreus, who went back and forth
announcing labors that Eurýstheus set
for brawny Hêraklês. A poorer man
by far was Kopreus, and the son superior
in every gift, as athlete and as soldier,
noted for brains among Mykênaians.
Now he afforded Hektor glory: twisting
back, he tripped upon the body shield |
750 |
he bore full-length, shoulder to foot, a tower
against all weapons. On the rim he tripped
and, hindered, fell down backward, and his helm
rang out around his temples as he fell.
Hektor’s sharp eye perceived this. On the run
he reached Períphêtês, halted at his side,
and speared him through the chest, killing him there
with all his friends nearby. They could not help him,
bitterly as they grieved for him, their dread
of Hektor being so great. |
760 |
The Akhaians now
were driven back within the line of ships,
those that were first drawn inland: prow and stern
enclosed them. Trojans poured into the shipways,
forcing the Argives back from the first ships.
Then by the huts they made a stand, massed there,
and would not scatter through the camp, constrained
by pride and fear, but ceaselessly called out
to one another. Nestor of Gerênia,
lord of the western approaches to Akhaia,
implored the soldiers for their children’s sake: |
770 |
“Be men, dear friends, respect yourselves as men
before the others! All of you, remember
children and wives, possessions, and your parents,
whether they be alive or dead! I beg you,
on their account, although they are not here,
to hold your ground: no panic and no rout!”
So Nestor rallied them. Athêna now
dispelled the nebulous haze before their eyes,
and light burst shining on them, front and rear,
from ships and from the battle. They saw clearly |
780 |
Hektor of the warcry and his soldiery,
those in reserve who had not joined the fight
and those in combat, storming the long ships.
Now the stout heart of Aías cared no longer
to stay where others had withdrawn; he moved
with long strides on the ships’ decks, making play
with his long polished pike, the sections joined
by rivets, long as twenty-two forearms.
Think of an expert horseman, who has harnessed
a double team together from his string |
790 |
and rides them from the plain to a big town
along the public road, where many see him,
men and women both; with perfect ease,
he changes horses, leaping, at a gallop.
That was Aías, going from deck to deck
of many ships with his long stride, his shout
rising to heaven, as in raging tones
he ordered the Danáäns to defend them.
Neither would Hektor stay amid the ruck
of battle-jacketed Trojans. Like an eagle |
800 |
flashing down on a flock of long-winged birds
who feed at a riverside—white geese or cranes
or long-necked swans—so Hektor struck ahead
and charged a ship with its black prow, for Zeus
behind him drove him on with his great hand
and cheered on soldiers with him.
Now again
there was a sharp fight near the ships: you’d say
that iron men, untiring, clashed in battle,
so fiercely they fought on. And to what end?
There was no way to escape, the Akhaians thought, |
810 |
sure they would be destroyed, But every Trojan’s
heart beat fast against his ribs with hope
of firing ships and killing Akhaian soldiers.
These were their secret thoughts as they gave battle.
Hektor gripped the stern of a deepsea ship,
a fast sailer, a beauty, which had brought
Prôtesílaos to Troy but would not bring him
back to his own land. Around this ship
they slaughtered one another in close combat,
820 |
could stand a hail of arrows or javelins,
but for like reasons moved toward one another,
hewing with battle-ax and hatchet, wielding
longsword and double-bladed spear. The swords
were many and beautiful, black-sheathed and hilted,
that fell to earth out of the hands of men
or off their shoulders. Earth ran dark with blood.
Once Hektor had the stern-post in his hands,
he kept a deathgrip on the knob and gave
command to the Trojans: |
830 |
“Fire now! Bring it up,
and all together raise a battle shout!
Zeus gave this day to us as recompense
for everything: now we may burn the ships
that came against the gods’ will to our shore
and caused us years of siege—through cowardice
of our old counselors who held me back
when I said ‘Battle at the ships’ sterns!’
They held back soldiers, too.
In those days, ah,
if Zeus who views the wide world blocked our hearts,
now it is he who cheers and sends us forward!” |
840 |
At this they all attacked more furiously,
and Aías could no longer hold. The missiles
forced him back, he yielded a few paces,
thinking his time had come, and left the deck
of the trim ship for the seven-foot bench amidships.
There he stood fast, alert, with his long pike
to fend off any Trojan with a torch,
and kept on shouting fiercely to Danáäns:
“Friends, Danáän soldiers, hands of Arês,
take a fresh grip on courage! Fight like men! |
850 |
Can we rely on fresh reserves behind us?
A compact wall, to shield our men from death?
Not that, nor any town with towers where
we might defend ourselves and find allies
enough to turn the tide. No, here we are,
on the coastal plain of Trojans under arms,
nothing but open sea for our support,
and far from our own country. Safety lies
in our own hands, not going soft in battle.”
Saying this, he made a vicious lunge |
860 |
with his sharp-bladed pike. And any Trojan
bound for the decked ships with a blazing torch
for Hektor’s satisfaction would be hit
by Aías, waiting there with his long pike.
He knocked down twelve, close in, before the ships.