BOOK XI

The Valiant Deeds of Agamemnon

As Dawn arose from beside her lord Tithonus

That she might bring light to gods and mortal men,

Zeus sent the harsh goddess Strife down to the swift ships

Of the battered Achaeans, holding in both of her hands

The banner of war. She took a strategic stand

High on the huge black hull of Odysseus’ vessel,

Which stood drawn up in the middle within shouting distance

Of both ends of the line, where Ajax, Telamon’s son,

And Achilles had their lodges, for such was their trust

In manly valor and the strength of their hands that they

Had drawn up their ships at the furthermost ends. From here

Strife shouted a loud and terrible war-scream, which stirred

The hearts of all the Achaeans to struggle and fight

Without ceasing.¹ And at once they felt war to be sweeter than any

Return to their dear native land.

And King Agamemnon

Shouted commands for the Argives to dress for battle,

And he himself put on the gleaming bronze.

First he covered his shins with greaves, fair greaves

With ankle-clasps of silver. Next, about his chest,

He put the breastplate given to him by Cinyras,

King of Cyprus. For he had heard the wide-spread

News that Achaeans were soon to set sail for Troy,

And so had graciously sent the breastplate for King

Agamemnon to wear and enjoy. Inlaid upon it

Were ten dark bands of blue lapis, twelve of gold,

And twenty of shining tin, and three blue-lapis

Serpents arched up toward the neck on either side,

Like the rainbows that Cronos’ son hangs in the clouds as signs

For mortal men. And about his shoulders he slung

His sword, flashing with studs and straps of gold

And sheathed in a silver scabbard. Then he took up

His warlike, richly wrought shield, man-covering and splendid

To see. For inlaid upon it were ten bright circles

Of bronze and twenty bosses of shining tin

Surrounding a central boss of blue lapis. And set

In the lapis, the awesome head of the Gorgon glared grimly

Forth, flanked by the figures of Panic and Rout.

From this great shield hung a baldric of glittering silver

Whereon a blue-lapis, three-headed serpent writhed.

And on his head he put a helmet, four-horned

And double-crested, with plume of horsehair defiantly

Waving above him. He also took up two sturdy

Spears, keenly pointed with bronze, and far up into

The sky the bright bronze flashed. And now, to honor

The King of golden Mycenae, Athena and Hera

Thundered.

Then each of the charioteers ordered

His driver to draw his team up in an orderly line

At the trench, but they themselves in full armor went swiftly

Forward on foot, and their wild, unquenchable cry

Went up in the dawn. Thus they formed their line

At the trench, and behind them at some little distance their drivers

Followed. And Cronos’ son roused in their hearts an evil

Lust for the din and confusion of war, and down

From the upper air he sent dark dew-drops of blood,

For he was about to hurl down to Hades many

Heroic heads.

And up the plain from them,

The Trojans fell in about great Hector and peerless

Polydamas, Aeneas, whom Trojans honored quite

Like a god, and the three brave sons of Antenor—Polybus,

Noble Agenor, and the youthful Acamas, handsome

As any immortal. And Hector, round shield on his arm,

Stood out mid the foremost fighters. Like a baleful star

That brilliantly gleams through a break in the overcast sky,

Only to vanish soon behind the dark clouds,

So Hector would now appear in the front rank of champions,

Then amid the last lines, giving them orders.

And all in brilliant bronze, he flashed like the lightning

Of Father Zeus of the aegis.

And as when reapers

Start from opposite sides of a wealthy man’s field

Of wheat or barley and work in toward each other

Cutting their swathes, so that thick and fast fall the handfuls

Of grain, so now Achaeans and Trojans charged

And cut each other down, nor did either side think

Of ruinous retreat, equally matched as they were

And ferocious as so many wolves. And Hatred, fierce goddess

Of groans, rejoiced as she watched them, for she alone

Of the gods was with them there in the slaughter. The others

Were quietly relaxing at home on Olympus, where each

Has a beautiful mansion built mid the mountain crags.

And most of them were incensed with Cronos’ son Zeus,

God of the lowering sky, because he willed

To give the victory to Trojans. But the Father, unperturbed,

Sat aloof from the others, glorying in his power

As he looked down on the city of Troy and the ships

Of Achaea, on the lightning-like flashes of bronze, and on

The killers and killed.

Now while it was morning and sacred

Daylight grew brighter, the missiles of both sides struck home,

And the warriors fell. But at that hour when a woodcutter

Takes his meal in the shady glen of a mountain,

When his arms are tired from felling tall trees and desire

For food and sweet wine comes over his weary spirit,

Right then the valorous Danaans, hailing each other

Throughout the ranks, broke the Trojan battalions.

And first Agamemnon charged through and cut down the fighter

Bienor, marshaler of men, and after Bienor

His comrade horse-lashing Oïleus. That warrior sprang

From his car and faced Agamemnon, but as he rushed straight

At the King, Agamemnon’s keen spear caught him full in the forehead,

Nor was the point stopped by his bronze-heavy helmet. Straight

through

Both bronze and bone it tore and spattered his brains

About the helmet’s inside. Thus he overcame the furious

Charge of Oïleus.

Then the king of men Agamemnon

Stripped these two of their tunics and left them lying

With their bare chests white in the sun, and on he went

To kill two children of Priam, Isus and Antiphus,

One a bastard and one a legitimate son,

Both riding now in the same bright car, with Isus

The bastard handling the reins and illustrious Antiphus

Standing beside him. Once, as these two were watching

Their sheep on the lower slopes of Mount Ida, Achilles

Had captured them both and bound them fast with pliant

Branches of willow, and then set them free for a ransom.

But now the son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon,

Speared Isus full in the chest above the nipple

And toppled Antiphus out of the car with a fierce

Sword-blow by the ear. Then quickly he stripped them both

Of their beautiful armor, and recognized both, for he

Had seen them before, when Achilles, fast on his feet,

Brought them from Ida. And as a lion comes

On the bed of a swift-running doe and easily crushes

The tender life from her fawns, tearing at them

With strong teeth, and the mother, though near, can do nothing to

help them,

Since she too is seized with terrible trembling and swiftly

Goes bounding away through the dense brushwood of the forest,

Running and sweating before the much-dreaded force

Of the powerful beast: even so, not one of the Trojans

Was able to save these two, Isus and Antiphus,

Since they themselves were fleeing before the Argives.

Next he killed Peisander and the resolute Hippolochus.

They were the sons of cunning Antimachus, whose lust

For splendid gifts of Paris’s gold made him

Most fervent of all in opposing the movement to give

Helen back to tawny-haired Menelaus. Now powerful

Agamemnon caught his two sons in one car, which both

Were vainly trying to manage, for the glossy reins

Had slipped from their hands, and their two-horse team was panicking

Over the plain. Like a lion Agamemnon rushed them,

And they, while still in the chariot, pleaded thus:

“Alive, O son of Atreus, take us alive!

And an ample ransom is yours. Stored in the mansion

Of wealthy Antimachus are many treasures, bronze

And gold and highly wrought iron. Of these our father

Would gladly give you a ransom past counting, if he

Should hear that we are alive at the ships of Achaea.”

Such were their tearful, pitiful words, but not

At all pleasing were those they heard in reply: “If you

Are really the sons of cunning Antimachus, the man

Who once in a Trojan assembly, when King Menelaus

And godlike Odysseus had come to Troy on a mission,

Suggested they kill Menelaus right there, rather than

Let him go back among the Achaeans, now surely

You both shall pay in full for the infamous act

Of your father!”^ag

Then jabbing his spear in the chest of Peisander,

He hurled him down on his back in the dirt. But Hippolochus

Leaped from the car, and the King killed him on foot.

Then lopping off arms and head, he rolled him away

Like a log through the jostling ranks.

Leaving these two

Where they lay, he rushed with other well-greaved Achaeans

To where the Trojan battalions were now in full

Retreat. And as they helplessly fled, footmen

Killed footmen and horsemen killed horsemen, and dust rose up

From the plain as their chargers thundered along and Argives

Killed with the bronze. And powerful Agamemnon, constantly

Killing, rushed on in pursuit, calling out to his men.

As dense brushwood in a forest collapses at once

Before the onslaught of furious fire that a whirling

Wind spreads quickly throughout the timber, so now

Fell Trojan heads before the fierce charge of King

Agamemnon, and many were the neck-arching horses that rattled

Their riderless cars through the blood-wet lanes of battle,

Leaving their masterful drivers stretched out on the ground,

Far dearer now to vultures than to their wives.

Zeus drew Hector out of that cloud of missiles

And dust, away from the blood and killing and turmoil,

But powerful Agamemnon kept on in pursuit, screaming

His cry to the Danaans. And the Trojan host fled fast

On the open plain, thundering past the wild fig tree,

Frantically trying to reach the city, with the screaming

Son of Atreus always pursuing and constantly

Fouling his huge, invincible hands with carnage

And gore. But when they reached the Scaean Gates

And the oak tree, the Trojans halted to wait for their comrades

Who still remained on the open plain, where they

Were driven in rout like cattle attacked by a lion—

The beast comes on them in the dead of night and scatters

Them all, but one of them he marks for certain

Death, and seizing her neck in his powerful jaws

He snaps it, then gulps her entrails and laps his fill

Of her blood. So King Agamemnon scattered the Trojans,

Constantly killing the hindmost as they fled.

Thus, as he raged with his spear around and before him,

Many a Trojan fell from his car face down

In the dust or flat on his back beneath the hands

Of Atrides. But when he had almost reached the steep wall

Of the city, then at last the Father of men and gods,

With thunderbolt firmly in hand, came down from the sky

And sat on the heights of well-watered Ida. And now

He dispatched with a message golden-winged Iris, saying:

“Fly swiftly, quick Iris, and speak these words to Hector.

So long as he sees the commander-in-chief Agamemnon

Raging amid the foremost and mowing men down

By the dozen, so long let him give ground with orders

For all the others to keep the enemy busy,

Fiercely resisting. But when Agamemnon, wounded

By spear or arrow, leaps on his car, then I

Will grant Hector might to cut men down till he comes

To the well-timbered ships, steadily killing till the sun

Goes down and powerful darkness arrives.”

He spoke,

And wind-footed Iris did not disobey, but swiftly

Flew down from the range of Ida to sacred Ilium.

She found wise Priam’s noble son Hector standing

Mid horses and cars in his own well-jointed chariot,

And swift-footed Iris stood by him, and said:

“Hector,

Son of Priam and peer of Zeus in counsel,

Zeus, our Father, has sent me to you with these words.

So long as you see the commander-in-chief Agamemnon

Raging amid the foremost and mowing men down

By the dozen, so long you are to give ground with orders

For all the others to keep the enemy busy,

Fiercely resisting. But when Agamemnon, wounded

By Spear or arrow, leaps on his car, then Zeus

Will grant you might to cut men down till you come

To the well-timbered ships, steadily killing till the sun

Goes down and powerful darkness arrives.”

When Iris

Had spoken the message, she flew swiftly off. But Hector,

Fully armed, leaped from his car to the ground,

And brandishing two sharp spears he ranged through the ranks

Arousing new spirit in the routed men. They spun

And faced the Achaeans, who now re-formed their ranks

To oppose them. Thus the armies clashed, and still

Agamemnon rushed forward in front of them all, eager

To fight the first man.

Now tell me, O Muses, you

That have homes on Olympus, who first came against Agamemnon,

Whether one of the Trojans or one of their famous allies.

It was Antenor’s son Iphidamas, a man

Both brawny and brave. He had been raised in fertile

Thrace, mother of flocks, at the home of his grandfather

Cisseus, sire of his pretty mother Theano.

And when he grew up a splendid young man, Cisseus

Attempted to keep him there by giving him one

Of his daughters to marry. But he was no sooner a bridegroom

Than word reached him of Achaeans at Troy, and off

He went with a company of twelve beaked ships. These graceful

Vessels he left at Percote and came on by land

To Troy, where now he faced in single combat

Atreus’ son Agamemnon. And as they charged

Each other, the spear of Atrides glanced off to one side,

But Iphidamas, putting his trust in the might of his beefy

Arm, landed his hard-lunging thrust on the war-belt

Just beneath the King’s breastplate. Still he failed

To pierce the all-glinting belt, for the point of his spear

No sooner struck the silver than it was bent back

Like lead. Then the wide-ruling lord Agamemnon, fierce

As a lion enraged, seized the spear of Iphidamas

And jerked it out of his hand, then loosed his limbs

With a sword-blow deep in the neck. Even so, Iphidamas

Fell and slept the bronze sleep, a hapless young man,

Aiding his people far away from his bride,

The girl for whom he had given so much but never

Enjoyed at all. And truly he had given much:

A hundred head of fine cattle with a promise of one thousand

Sheep and goats to come, for such were herded

For him in tremendous numbers. Now Agamemnon

Stripped him and strode off toward the Achaean ranks

Bearing his exquisite armor.

But when the outstanding

Warrior Coon, eldest son of Antenor,

Saw his dear brother fall, great sorrow dimmed

His eyes, and coming up from the side, unseen

By King Agamemnon, he jabbed the point of his gleaming

Spear clean through the commander’s forearm, just

Below the elbow. At this the high King shuddered,

But so far from quitting the fight, he gripped his spear

Of wind-toughened wood and fiercely sprang upon Coon.

Now Coon had seized the foot of his father’s son

Iphidamas, and frantically he was dragging his brother

Away and calling for help to all the bravest.

But as he was dragging him into the throng, Agamemnon

Unstrung the man with a thrust of smooth-shafted bronze

Beneath his bossed shield. Then standing beside him he lopped off

His head right over the corpse of Iphidamas. There then,

At the hands of royal Atrides, the sons of Antenor

Filled up their measure of fate and journeyed down

To the house of Hades.

Now just so long as the blood

Welled warm from his wound, Agamemnon raged through the enemy

Ranks, hacking and thrusting and throwing huge rocks.

But when the blood stopped and the wound got dry, keen pangs

Of anguish came on the mighty Atrides. Like the searing

Arrows of pain that shoot through a woman in labor,

The piercing pangs sent on by the Eileithyiae,

The labor-inducing daughters of Hera, who have

Such pain in their keeping, even such were the sharp and bitter

Pangs that racked Agamemnon now.² Heavyhearted,

He leaped on his car and bade his driver make

For the hollow ships, but as he left he yelled

A far-carrying cry, and shouted these words to the Danaans:

“O friends, captains and counselors of the Argives,

Ward off from our seagoing ships the grievous turmoil

Of battle, for Zeus in his wisdom has not allowed me

To fight throughout this day against the Trojans.”

His driver lashed the mane-tossing horses, and they,

Not at all unwilling, galloped away toward the ships.

With breasts foam-flecked and bellies sprinkled with dust,

They bore from battle the weary and wounded King.

When Hector saw Agamemnon leaving, he shouted

As loud as he could to the Trojans and their Lycian allies:

“You Trojans and Lycians and dueling Dardanians, now,

My friends, be men, and filled with furious boldness!

Their best man is gone, and Cronos’ son Zeus has given

Great glory to me. But drive your solid-hoofed horses

Straight and hard at the powerful Danaan host,

That you may win the higher glory yet!”

These words encouraged and strengthened all of his men.

For with all the heart of a hunter who sets his snarling,

Gleaming-toothed hounds on a savage wild boar or a lion,

Priam’s son Hector, the peer of man-maiming Ares,

Urged on the spirited Trojans. And he himself,

Greatly courageous, charged out from the foremost rank

And fell on the fight like a high-howling gale that rushes

Down from the heights and lashes the violet sea.

Then who was the first and who was the last to be slain

And stripped by Priam’s son Hector, now that Zeus

Gave victory to him? Asaeus was first, then Autonous,

Opites, Opheltius, and Dolops, son of Clytius,

Agelaus, Aesymnus, Orus, and the resolute Hipponous.

These were the Danaan leaders he slew. Then

He fell on the rank and file with all the force

Of a hurricane gale that blows from the West, clearing

The sky of white clouds which the rapid South Wind has collected,

A baffling blow that drives on many a swollen,

Rolling billow and fills the air with droplets

Of spray—even so very numerous now

Were the Argive heads laid low by raging Hector.

And now irreparable ruin would have wrecked the Achaeans

And they in full flight would have flung themselves on the ships,

If Odysseus had not called out to strong Diomedes:

“O Tydeus’ son, what causes us thus to forget

Our furious valor? But come, my friend, and make

A stand by my side, for it would surely disgrace us

If now bright-helmeted Hector captured the ships!”

And mighty Diomedes replied: “Of course I will stand

And resist, but I don’t think we’ll do a great deal of good,

Since cloud-gathering Zeus has obviously willed to give

The victory to Trojans.”

So saying, he knocked Thymbraeus

Out of his chariot, striking him with his spear

Beneath the left nipple, and Odysseus took care of that

Great chieftain’s driver, the godlike Molion. These

They left where they fell, having put an end to their fighting.

And now they turned and fought their way through the ranks,

Wreaking much ruin all around them, quite like a couple

Of vicious wild boars that whirl on the hounds behind them.

So now they turned on the Trojans again and fiercely

Cut them down, thus giving their fellow Achaeans

Some chance to catch their breath in their flight before Hector.

The first car taken by strong Diomedes held

Two lords in their land, the sons of Percotian Merops,

The world’s most skillful prophet, who would not allow

His sons to enter the man-wasting war. But they

Would pay no attention, for doom and dark death were leading

Them on. Now Tydeus’ son, famed as a spearman, robbed them

Of spirit and life and stripped off their marvelous war-gear,

While Odysseus slaughtered and stripped Hippodamas and

Hypeirochus.

Then Cronos’ son Zeus, as he looked down from Ida,

Evened the killing between the straining forces.

King Diomedes thrust his spear in the hip

Of Paeon’s heroic son, the raging Agastrophus,

On whom great blindness of soul had surely come,

For he had no horses nearby behind which to flee.

He had left them far back with his squire and plunged on ahead

Mid the foremost fighters till now he lost his dear life.

But across the ranks keen Hector saw what had happened,

And fiercely he charged down upon them with a terrible scream

And whole battalions of Trojans behind him. Diomedes,

The great battle-roarer, shuddered to see him coming,

And immediately spoke to Odysseus close by:

“Much trouble,

Odysseus, is rolling our way in the person of yonder

Huge Hector! But come, let us stand where we are and beat

The man back.”

With this he poised his long-shadowing spear

And hurled it, and so far from missing his mark, he struck

Hector hard on top of his triple-thick helmet, where bronze

Turned bronze aside, leaving his handsome head whole,

The spear-point foiled by the crested, glittering helmet,

A gift from Phoebus Apollo. Quickly Hector

Reeled back a long way in the crowd, then dropped to one knee,

Supporting himself with one great hand on the ground

Till darkness enveloped his eyes. But while Diomedes

Went after his spear far through the foremost fighters

To where it had fallen to earth, Hector revived,

And springing up on his car drove further back

In the battling throng, thus escaping black fate.

And strong Diomedes charged up with his spear, and shouted

After him thus:

“Again, you dog, you’ve managed

To get away with your life, though this time just barely!

Once more you have Phoebus Apollo to thank, to whom

You must be careful to pray before you come

Within even the sound of hurtling spears. Well,

Believe me, I’ll finish you yet—the next time we meet,

If only some god will also look out for me.

Right now I’ll take my rage out on your friends, whomever

I happen to come on!”

He shouted, and went back to strip

The man he last slew, spear-famous Agastrophus, son

Of Paeon. But Paris, the lord of lovely blonde Helen,

Drew his bow against Diomedes, half hid

As he aimed by the pillar on the man-made barrow of Ilus,

The descendant of Dardanus and ancient elder. Diomedes

The King was busily stripping the all-glinting breastplate

From mighty Agastrophus, taking the shield from his shoulders

And removing his heavy helmet, when Paris drew back

The string and shot. Nor did the arrow fly

From his hand in vain, for it cleanly pierced the sole

Of Diomedes’ right foot, and pinned him fast to the ground.

Then gleefully laughing, Paris sprang out from the pillar

And boastingly yelled:

“Aha! you’re hit! That surely

Was no idle shot. I only wish I had sunk

A shaft in the pit of your belly and stopped you for good!

Then the Trojans could all have relaxed a bit, since now

They tremble before you like bleating goats at a lion.”

And strong Diomedes, fearless as ever, replied:

“You foul-fighting cowardly bowman and gaper at girls,

With your pretty hair fresh out of curlers! if only you’d come out

In armor and fight like a man, you’d see how worthless

To you that bow and fistful of arrows would be!

Now there you are bragging at scratching the sole of my foot.

I think no more of it than if some woman or silly

Child had slapped me, for the dart of a no-good weakling

Is puny and dull. But the man I so much as touch

With the weapon I wield knows very well, as he dies,

How keen it is! His fatherless children grieve,

And the cheeks of his wife are torn in her weeping and wailing,

While he but reddens the earth with his blood, and rots,

With far fewer women than vultures flocking around him!”

He spoke, and spear-famed Odysseus came up and stood

Before him, while Diomedes sat down and painfully

Pulled from his foot the swift-flying arrow. Heavyhearted,

He leaped on his car and bade his driver make

For the hollow ships.

Now that renowned spearman Odysseus

Faced the foe all alone, since no other Argive

Had courage enough to stay by his side. Deeply troubled,

He spoke to his own great heart:³ “Ah miserable me,

What is to become of me now! To run in fear

Of that mob would be a great evil, but to stay here and let them

Catch me alone would be even worse, now that Zeus

Has utterly routed all of the other Danaans.

But why do I argue thus with myself? I know

All too well that those who run from a fight are cowards

And that whoever does best in a battle must firmly

Stand his ground, whether he be the one who is struck

Or whether he strike another.”

While he so pondered

In mind and heart, the companies of shield-bearing Trojans

Hemmed him in, surrounding their own destruction.

And just as hounds and lusty young hunters close in

On a boar, and then withstand his blood-chilling charge

From the depths of his thicket-lair, noisily whetting

His tushes and gnashing his crooked jaws, so now

The Trojans rushed in on Zeus-loved Odysseus. And first

He stabbed flawless Deïopites, lunging at him

With his well-sharpened spear and coming down with it deep

Into the man’s shoulder. Then he killed Thoön and Ennomus.

And as Chersidamas sprang from his car, he thrust

His spear beneath his bossed shield and into his navel,

Stretching him out in the dust, where he clawed the dirt

With his hand. Leaving these where they fell, he jabbed

His bronze into Charops, Hippasus’ son and full brother

Of wealthy Socus, a godlike man, who now

Rushed in to defend his own. He came right up

To Odysseus, took his stand, and spoke to him thus:

“Much-praised Odysseus, insatiably wily and eager

For toilsome action, today you’ll either kill two

Of Hippasus’ sons and boast how you cut down and stripped

Such a pair, or else beneath my spear you yourself

Shall give up the ghost and die!”

So saying, he plunged

His ponderous spear clean through the shining round shield

Of Odysseus, and on through his richly wrought breastplate it tore

To rip all the flesh away from the great fighter’s side,

Though Pallas Athena did not allow it to puncture

His entrails. Odysseus knew the wound was not mortal,

But now he gave ground, and spoke these words to Socus:

“You wretch, surely sheer ruin is rushing upon you!

You’ve ended this action of mine against the Trojans,

But here and now, believe me, you’ll be overtaken

By death and dark fate. Sprawling beneath my spear,

You shall give glory to me, and your miserable soul

To horse-famous Hades!”

He spoke, and just as Socus

Turned to run, he planted a spear in his back

Between the shoulders and drove it out through his chest.

He fell to the ground with a thud, and worthy Odysseus

Exulted over him, saying: “Ah Socus, son

Of flame-hearted Hippasus, breaker of horses, death

After all was too quick for you, nor could you writhe out

From beneath it. Poor wretch, your father and lady mother

Shall never close those corpse’s eyes of yours,

But carrion birds shall pick the flesh from your bones,

Flocking and flapping about you. Whereas, if I die,

The noble Achaeans will surely bury me

With all due funeral rites.”⁴

So saying, he pulled

From his flesh and bossed shield keen Socus’s ponderous spear,

And the blood gushed out, whereat his heart grew sick.

But when the spirited Trojans saw the blood

Of Odysseus, a cry went up throughout the throng,

And all together they rushed him. And now he gave ground

And called to his comrades for help. Three times he called

As loud as he could, and three times warlike Menelaus

Heard him. Then at once he spoke thus to Ajax nearby:

“O god-sprung Ajax, Telamon’s son and ruler

Of many, just then there rang in my ears the cry

Of steadfast Odysseus. He sounded as though the Trojans

Had cut him off alone in the huge confusion

And so were getting the best of him. But come,

Let us make our way through the toiling tangle of men,

For surely we had better help him. I fear that he

All alone, great warrior though he is, may suffer

Some harm from the Trojans. The Danaans then would miss

The man greatly.”

With this he led the way, and godlike

Ajax followed. Then soon they found Zeus-loved Odysseus,

And Trojans fiercely beset him on every side

Like so many tawny jackals that dart in about

A high-horned stag in the mountains, one that some hunter

Has struck with an arrow—swiftly he bounds away,

So long as the blood flows warm and his knees remain nimble,

But when at last the deeply lodged arrow subdues him,

The ravenous jackals tear him apart in a shadowy

Glen of the mountains, till God sends against them a murderous,

Plundering lion that scatters the jackals and tears

At the prey himself So now the Trojans, many

And strong, charged fiercely in on Odysseus, wily

And wise. And he, lunging desperately out with his spear,

Kept off the ruthless day of his doom, till Ajax

Came up, bearing his shield like a tower, and stood

By his side, thus quickly scattering Trojans in every

Direction. And warlike King Menelaus led Odysseus

Out through the crowd, supporting him by the arm,

Till a squire drove up Menelaus’s horses and car.

But Ajax sprang at the Trojans and soon accounted for

Doryclus, bastard son of King Priam, then felled

With rapid spear-thrusts Pandocus and Lysander,

Pyrasus and Pylartes. And as when a river

In winter flood, swollen by rain from Zeus,

Rushes down from mountains to plain, bearing on

In its course to the sea innumerable dead oaks and pines

Along with tons of mud and debris, so now

Resplendent Ajax stormed recklessly over the plain,

Demolishing horses and men.

Hector, meanwhile,

Knew nothing of this, for he was fighting on the far

Left fringe of battle by the banks of the river Scamander,

Where most thickly men’s heads were falling and the cries

Of warring men went up in one constant roar

About the great Nestor and martial Idomeneus. With these

Hector was dallying somewhat roughly and wrecking

Their youthful battalions. But the noble Achaeans would still

Not at all have given way, if Paris, the lord

Of lovely-haired Helen, had not put an end to the valiant

Deeds of the leader and surgeon Machaon, sinking

A three-barbed arrow deep in the chieftain’s right shoulder.

Then the fury-breathing Achaeans were greatly afraid,

Lest Trojans should cut him down in the fickle turns

Of battle. And quickly Idomeneus spoke to King Nestor:

“Neleus’ son Nestor, great glory of all the Achaeans,

Up on your chariot, quick! and with you take wounded

Machaon. Then drive your solid-hoofed horses as fast as

You can to the ships. For one good physician is worth

A battalion when it comes to cutting out arrows and spreading on

Healing ointments.”

He spoke, and the aged horseman,

Gerenian Nestor, did as he said. At once

He mounted his car, and Machaon stepped up beside him.

Then Nestor lashed the horses, and off at a gallop

They flew to the hollow ships, willing to go

And eager to get there.

Now Cebriones, driving for Hector,

Noticed the Trojans retreating, and spoke to his brother,

Saying: “Hector, while we two are dallying here

On the fringe of hateful battle, other Trojans

Are there being routed and ruined, both horses and men.

And the cause of all that chaos is Ajax, son

Of Telamon. I know him surely by that wide shield

About his shoulders. But come, let us drive our horses

And car over there, where most of all both horsemen

And footmen, clashing in evil strife, are cutting

Each other down and filling the air with their loud,

Unquenchable cries.”

So saying, he raised the lash

And brought it down on the mane-tossing horses, that swiftly

Took off at the very first sound of the whistling whip

And rapidly drew the light car through fighting Achaeans

And Trojans, trampling on corpses and shields. And the axle

Below and handrails above were all splashed and bespattered

With blood from the hooves of the horses and metal rims

Of the wheels. And Hector, hotly eager to crash

Through the man-mingling throng and break the Trojan retreat,

Brought evil confusion into the Danaan ranks,

And little indeed was the rest he gave his great lance.

Hacking and thrusting and throwing huge rocks, he raged

Through the enemy host, but avoided a clash with huge

Telamonian Ajax.

Finally, Father Zeus,

Looking down from on high, made Ajax afraid. He stood

Bewildered, then swung his sevenfold bull’s-hide shield

On his back and turned to retreat, like a wild beast at bay

Anxiously glancing at all those about him and slowly,

Step by step, giving way—like a tawny lion

That dogs and farmhands, watching all night to protect

Their fat oxen, drive from a cattle-yard. The flesh-hungry lion

Charges right in, only to be driven back

By a rain of spears and blazing torches, hurled

At him by brawny bold arms. Still eager, he has to

Retreat, and slinks off at dawn disappointed. So Ajax,

Sullen at heart, gave way to the Trojans, greatly

Reluctant, since much he feared for the ships of Achaea.

He went, in fact, like a balky and stubborn ass

That gets the better of boys and enters a field

Of tall grain, where staunchly he eats his fill regardless

Of countless cudgels the puny boys break on his back

Before, at last, they drive him forth. Even so,

The spirited Trojans and their far-called, many allies

Hung on the heels of Telamonian Ajax, constantly

Smiting his shield with their spears. And he would resummon

His furious valor, wheel, and beat back the ranks

Of horse-breaking Trojans, then turn again and resume

His deliberate retreat. Thus he contended, and barred

Them all from the ships, making himself a bulwark

Between the Achaeans and Trojans. And some of the spears

That brawny bold arms hurled at him rushed eagerly on

To embed themselves in the great shield of Ajax, but many

Failed and fell short and fixed themselves in the earth,

Unable to gain their glut of the warrior’s flesh.

But now Eurypylus, glorious son of Euaemon,

Saw how Ajax labored beneath a skyful

Of spears, and coming up he took a stand

By his side and hurled his own bright lance, striking

A chieftain, Phausius’ son Apisaon, in the liver

Under the midriff, thus suddenly causing his knees

To buckle. Quickly Eurypylus leaped upon him

And started to strip his shoulders of armor, but handsome

Prince Paris saw what he was doing and sank an arrow

Into the right thigh of Eurypylus. The shaft broke off

In the wound, and his leg dragged heavy with pain, as he,

Avoiding death, shrank back to take cover with men

Of his company, but shouting thus to the Danaan host:

“Turn! my friends, you that lead and counsel

The Argives. Then hold your ground, that you may ward off

The ruthless day from our spear-belabored Ajax!

He has small chance, I think, of escaping alive

From out the screaming tumult. So come now, face

The Trojans and make a stand about great Ajax,

Son of Telamon.”

So spoke the stricken Eurypylus,

And those about him crouched low, with shields sloping back

To their shoulders and spears held high and ready. Ajax

Came to them, turned, and staunchly faced the foe.

The deadly fighting raged on like a roaring conflagration.

But meanwhile the sweat-lathered mares of Neleus’ breed

Drew Nestor off the field, and with him Machaon,

The people’s shepherd. And foot-flashing, noble Achilles

Saw them leave, for he was watching the grievous

Toil and tearful rout of battle from high

On the stern of his sea-monster ship.

At once he called down

To his comrade Patroclus, who heard, and looking like Ares

Came out of the lodge—thus marking the start of evil

For him.⁵ Then the valiant son of Menoetius spoke first:

“Why do you call me, Achilles? What is it you want?”

And swift Achilles replied: “Great son of Menoetius,

You so dear to my heart, now I believe

The Achaeans will really abase themselves at my knees,

Praying for me to help them, for truly their need

Is desperate and not to be borne. But go now, my god-loved

Patroclus, and find out from Nestor what man he brings wounded

From battle. From behind he looks just like Machaon, son

Of Asclepius, but the eager horses shot by me so fast

I didn’t see the man’s face.”

He spoke, and Patroclus

Obeyed his dear friend. Off he went at a run

Past the lodges and ships of Achaeans.

When Nestor arrived

At his lodge with the wounded Machaon, they both stepped down

On the all-feeding earth, and the old one’s squire Eurymedon

Unhitched the horses, while the warriors stood on the beach

In the breeze to dry the sweat from their tunics. Then

They went into the lodge and sat down on reclining chairs,

And skilled Hecamede, she of the beautiful braids,

Mixed them a drink. Old Nestor had gotten the girl,

Daughter of hearty Arsinous, when Tenedos fell

To Achilles. The Achaeans had picked her for him as reward

For his always superior counsel. First she drew up

A table before them, a polished and beautiful piece

With feet of blue lapis, and on it she set a bronze saucer

Whereon was an onion to go with their drink, and beside it

She put yellow honey and meal of sacred white barley.

By these she placed an exquisite cup that the old one

Had brought from home. Studded with rivets of gold,

It had two handles on either side, about which

Two pairs of golden doves were sipping, while below

Were circular bases at bottom and top of the stem.

And though it was no small thing to raise that full cup

From the table, old Nestor could lift it with ease. Now in it

The girl like a goddess mixed them a drink, with honey

And Pramnian wine, on which with a grater of bronze

She grated some goat’s-milk cheese and lastly sprinkled

White barley. Then, when the mixing was done, she asked them

To drink. And having quenched their burning thirst,

They fell to amusing each other with stories, when suddenly

There in the door stood the godlike man Patroclus.

At sight of him the old one quickly got up

From his gleaming chair, led him in by the hand, and told him

To sit. But Patroclus firmly refused to, saying:

“I cannot, O god-fed ancient, nor will you persuade me.

Respected and feared is the man who sent me to learn

Who it is you bring here wounded. But since I now see

For myself that it is my lord Machaon, I’ll take

The word back to Achilles. You know very well, O godlike

Ancient sir, how irritable he is,

A man who might quickly blame even one who is blameless.”

Then horse-driving Gerenian Nestor spoke thus:

“Why this concern on the part of Achilles for wounded

Sons of Achaeans? He has no idea what grief

The whole army is in. For now our bravest men,

Stricken by arrows or spear-thrusts, lie at the ships.

Strong Diomedes, Tydeus’ son, has been hit,

And both spear-famous Odysseus and King Agamemnon

Have suffered disabling spear-wounds. And now Machaon,

Whom, I’ve just brought from the field, has also been hit

By a painful bolt from the bowstring. But Achilles, great man

That he is, neither cares for nor pities the Danaan people.

Can it be that he’ll wait till our swift ships here on the beach

Go up in smoke and we ourselves die by the dozen?

For I no longer have limbs so supple and strong

As surely I did in the old days. If only I were

As young and my strength as unyielding as once⁶ when trouble

Arose between the Epeans and us concerning

The rustling of cattle, when I by way of reprisal

Was taking cattle in Elis and slew Itymoneus,

Valorous son of Hypeirochus. While he fought

Mid the foremost, defending his cattle, a spear from my hand

Laid him low, and the rustics around him all fled for their lives.

Great indeed was the booty we rounded up there on the plain:

Some fifty herds of cattle with as many sheepflocks,

As many droves of swine and as many herds

Of wide-roaming goats, along with a hundred and fifty

Sorrel horses, all mares, and many of them

With colts at the teat. All these we drove by night

To Neleian Pylos and into the city, and Neleus

Rejoiced at the great success such an untried stripling

As I had had on the raid. And at dawn the heralds

Proclaimed loud and clear for all those to gather who then

From sacred Elis had anything coming to them.

And the Pylian leaders all came and divided the spoils,

For to many of us in Pylos the Epeans owed wealth,

Since we were at that time both few and downtrodden. The brutish

And powerful Heracles had come in the years before

And cruelly oppressed us, killing our bravest and best.

Twelve were the sons of Neleus the blameless, but of these

Only I was still alive. Hence the Epeans,

Bronze-clad and presumptuous of heart, were wickedly plotting

And working evil against us. But now old Neleus

Selected a whole herd of cattle along with a huge flock

Of sheep, three hundred in all and their shepherds with them.

For great was the debt owed him in sacred Elis—

Especially for four fine horses, prize-winning steeds

That had gone to the games with a car to race for the tripod.

But King Augeas had kept them there and sent back

Their vexed and horseless driver with words of insult

For Neleus. Both act and insult had angered the old one

Greatly, and now he chose reprisal past telling.

And what was left he gave to the people, that none

Might go without a just share.

“Thus we divided

The spoils, and then throughout the city made offerings

To the gods. But on the third day the Epeans gathered

Their forces of many men and solid-hoofed horses,

And among them the two Moliones^ah put on their armor,

Though they as yet were little more than boys

With no great knowledge of furious fighting. Quickly

They came and laid siege to the citadel Thryoessa,

An outlying hilltop town on the river Alpheius

Down near the coast of sandy Pylos. This town

They were eager to pillage and plunder, and about the hill

They filled the plain with their men. But Athena shot down

From Olympus by night and alerted our forces for battle,

And those she gathered in sandy Pylos were not

Loath to fight. They were indeed eager, and I among them,

But Neleus had hidden my horses, since he thought I

Had not yet acquired much prowess in serious warfare.

Even so, with the help of Athena, I on foot

Proved first in the fight, even among the horsemen.

“Our forces formed where the river Minyeius flows into

The sea at Arene. There the Pylian horsemen

Awaited bright Dawn while many companies of infantry

Poured in behind them. Pushing on in full armor, we reached

By noon the next day the hallowed stream of Alpheius.

There we sacrificed splendid victims to Zeus,

The exalted and mighty, a bull apiece to Poseidon

And Alpheius, god of the river, but a herd-fattened heifer

To blue-eyed Athena. Then we ate supper in companies

Throughout the host and lay down on the banks of the river

To sleep, each man still clad in his war-gear.

“Meanwhile,

The great-souled Epeans, encircling the city, stood ready

And eager to sack it. But now intervened a mighty

Work of the War-god, for when the bright Sun arose

Over earth, we made our prayers to Zeus and Athena

And moved to attack. And in the great clash of Epeans

And Pylians, I was the first to kill a man

And take his solid-hoofed horses—the spearman Mulius.

He was the son-in-law of Augeas, the husband

Of his eldest daughter, tawny-tressed Agamede,

Whose knowledge of herbs and potions was truly world-wide.

With a cast of my bronze-headed spear I broke his charge

And toppled him down in the dust, then leaped on his chariot

And fought mid the foremost champions. But when the haughty

Epeans saw the man fall, their captain of horse

And bravest in battle, they scattered on every side,

As I swept down like a black hurricane and overtook

Fifty chariots, and two men from each took the dirt

In their teeth, all spear-victims of mine! And now

I’d have wrecked the careers of the two Moliones, supposedly

Sons of Actor, had not their real father, Poseidon,

The wide-ruling shaker of shores, saved them from battle

By hiding them both in a thick cloud of mist. Then Zeus

Gave great power to the Pylian fighters, and far across

The wide plain we pursued the Epeans, constantly killing

Their men and collecting the armor, till at last we came

To the fertile wheat fields of Buprasium, the Olenian Rock,

And a place called Alesium Hill. There Athena turned back

Our forces, and leaving I slew the last man. The Pylians

Drove their fast horses from Buprasium back to Pylos,

And all gave thanks and great glory to Zeus among gods

And to Nestor bravest of men.

“That was the kind

Of warrior I was, just as sure as I ever was one!

But Achilles would like to enjoy his valor alone,

Though surely the man will later most terribly grieve

For his own people destroyed. Ah, my boy,

How well I remember the charge Menoetius laid on you

The day he sent you from Phthia to King Agamemnon.

We two were there with you, I and worthy Odysseus,

And there in the house we heard his instructions to you.

For we had come to the fair-lying palace of Peleus

Recruiting soldiers throughout many-feeding Achaea.

Inside with Achilles we found your father Menoetius,

And you, while out in the courtyard the knightly old Peleus

Was burning to bolt-hurling Zeus the fat thigh-slabs

Of a bull, and from a gold cup in his hand he was pouring

Libations of sparkling wine to go with the sacred

And flaming meat. Menoetius and you were busily

Carving the beef when we two appeared in the porch.

The surprised Achilles sprang up, led us in by the hand,

And told us to sit, then set before us refreshment

Befitting strangers. And when we had greatly enjoyed

The food and drink he served us, I spoke out first,

Inviting Achilles and you to come with us.

And since you were both quite willing to do so, your fathers

Gave much instruction to you. Old Peleus urged

His son Achilles to always be bravest and best,

But Menoetius, son of Actor, counseled you thus:

“‘My son, Achilles is nobler in birth than you are

And far more gifted with martial prowess, but you

Are the elder, and so should instruct, counsel, and guide him.

And he will do well to heed the advice you give him.’^ai

“Thus your old father gave you a charge—but one

That you have forgotten. Even now, though, go speak

To the fiery Achilles and see if he’ll listen. Who knows

But that with God’s help your persuasion may still prevail?

The advice of a friend is frequently most effective.

But if his heart is set on escaping some dire word

From Zeus, revealed to him by his goddess mother,

Let him send you at the head of the Myrmidon host,⁷

That you may be a light of hope to the Danaans.

And let him give you his splendid armor to wear

Into war, that the Trojans may take you for him and quickly

Withdraw from the fighting. Then the battling, war-worn sons

Of Achaeans may have a chance to catch their breath—

Such chances in battle are few—and you that are fresh

May easily drive, with little more than your war-screams,

The exhausted Trojans away from the ships and the shelters

And back toward the city.”

He spoke, and his words stirred the heart

In the breast of Patroclus, who left now to run down the long

line

Of ships to Achilles, Aeacus’ grandson. But when

He came at a run to the ships of godlike Odysseus,

Where he and his men had their place of assembly and judgment

And where they had built the gods’ altars, there he was met

By Eurypylus, Zeus-sprung son of Euaemon, pierced

In the thigh by an arrow and painfully limping from battle.

The sweat streamed down from his head and shoulders, and from

His deep wound the dark blood oozed, but still his mind

Remained clear. Seeing him so, the gallant Patroclus

Felt pity for him, and his words came winged with foreboding:

“O miserable leaders and lords of the Danaan people,

Were you, then, doomed to fall so far from home

And loved ones, here where the swift dogs of Troy may gulp

Their glut of your glistening fat? But come, tell me this,

O god-nurtured hero Eurypylus. Have the Achaeans

A chance to somehow hold back monstrous Hector, or will they

Now die beneath his great spear?”

Then the stricken Eurypylus:

“No longer, O Zeus-sprung Patroclus, will there be any

Defense of Achaeans, who soon will be frantically climbing

Aboard the black ships. For surely all those who have been

Our bravest lie at the ships disabled by Trojan

Arrows or spear-thrusts, while the enemy’s strength continues

To grow. But me at least you can help. Lead me

Now to my black ship, cut the keen bronze

From my thigh, and wash the dark blood away with warm water.

Then put some soothing salve on the wound, some healing

Excellent thing men say you learned from Achilles,

Who had it from Cheiron, most civil and righteous of Centaurs.

For of our physicians, Machaon and Podaleirius,

One I believe lies mid the lodges wounded

And in need of a skillful surgeon himself, while the other

Is out on the plain withstanding the Trojans’ hard charge.”

And the stalwart son of Menoetius answered him thus:

“How can these things be? But what shall we do, Eurypylus?

I’m on my way to fiery Achilles with word

From Gerenian Nestor, Achaea’s old sentinel. Still,

I will not desert you so nearly exhausted.”

So saying,

He put his arm round the great leader’s waist and helped him

Back to his lodge, where his squire at sight of them

Piled oxhides thick on the earthen floor. On these

Patroclus stretched the man out, and with a knife

Removed the keen-cutting bronze from his thigh, and washed

The dark blood away with warm water. And when he had crushed

A root in his hands he applied it well to the wound—

A pungent, pain-killing root that ended his pangs.

Then the bleeding stopped and the wound began to dry.