The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (23 page)

Thus this place fill’d with strength of fight; in th’ army’s other press,

Tlepolemus, a tall big man, the son of Hercules,

A cruel destiny inspir’d, with strong desire to prove

Encounter with Sarpedon’s strength, the son of cloudy Jove;

Who coming on to that stern end, had chosen him his foe:

Thus Jove’s great nephew and his son ’gainst one another go.

Tlepolemus – to make his end more worth the will of fate –

Began as if he had her pow’r, and show’d the mortal state

Of too much confidence in man, with this superfluous brave:

‘Sarpedon, what necessity or needless humour drave

Thy form to these wars? Which in heart I know thou dost abhor,

A man not seen in deeds of arms, a Lycian counsellor.

They lie that call thee son to Jove, since Jove bred none so late.

The men of elder times were they, that his high power begat,

Such men as had Herculean force; my father Hercules

Was Jove’s true issue; he was bold, his deeds did well express

They sprung out of a lion’s heart. He whilom came to Troy

(For horse, that Jupiter gave Tros for Ganimed, his boy)

With six ships only, and few men, and tore the city down,

Left all her broad ways desolate, and made the horse his own:

For thee, thy mind is ill dispos’d, thy body’s pow’rs are poor,

And therefore are thy troops so weak; the soldier evermore

Follows the temper of his chief, and thou pull’st down a side.

But say thou art the son of Jove, and hast thy means supplied

With forces fitting his descent, the pow’rs that I compel

Shall throw thee hence, and make thy head run ope the gates of hell.’

Jove’s Lycian issue answer’d him: ‘Tlepolemus, ’tis true –

Thy father holy Ilion in that sort overthrew;

Th’ injustice of the king was cause, that where thy father had

Us’d good deservings to his state, he quitted him with bad.

Hesione, the joy and grace of king Laomedon,

Thy father rescu’d from a whale, and gave to Telamon

In honour’d nuptials (Telamon, from whom your strongest Greek

Boasts to have issu’d); and this grace might well expect the like:

Yet he gave taunts for thanks, and kept against his oath his horse.

And therefore both thy father’s strength and justice might enforce

The wreak he took on Troy: but this and thy cause differ far;

Sons seldom heir their fathers’ worths, thou canst not make his war:

What thou assum’st from him is mine, to be on thee impos’d.’

With this, he threw an ashen dart, and then Tlepolemus loos’d

Another from his glorious hand: both at one instant flew;

Both struck; both wounded; from his neck Sarpedon’s javelin drew

The life-blood of Tlepolemus; full in the midst it fell,

And what he threaten’d, th’ other gave: that darkness, and that hell.

Sarpedon’s left thigh took the lance; it pierc’d the solid bone,

And with his raging head ran through; but Jove preserv’d his son.

The dart yet vex’d him bitterly, which should have been pull’d out,

But none consider’d then so much, so thick came on the rout,

And fill’d each hand so full of cause to ply his own defence;

’Twas held enough (both fall’n) that both were nobly carried thence.

Ulysses knew th’ events of both, and took it much to heart

That his friend’s enemy should ’scape, and in a twofold part

His thoughts contended, if he should pursue Sarpedon’s life,

Or take his friend’s wreak on his men. Fate did conclude this strife,

By whom ’twas otherwise decreed than that Ulysses’ steel

Should end Sarpedon. In this doubt Minerva took the wheel

From fickle Chance, and made his mind resolve to right his friend

With that blood he could surest draw. Then did Revenge extend

Her full power on the multitude. Then did he never miss;

Alastor, Halius, Chromius, Noemon, Pritanis,

Alcander, and a number more, he slew, and more had slain,

If Hector had not understood; whose pow’r made in amain,

And struck fear through the Grecian troops, but to Sarpedon gave

Hope of full rescue; who thus cried: ‘O Hector! Help and save

My body from the spoil of Greece, that to your loved town

My friends may see me borne: and then let earth possess her own,

ln this soil, for whose sake I left my country’s; for no day

Shall ever show me that again, nor to my wife display

And young hope of my name, the joy of my much thirsted sight:

All which I left for Troy; for them let Troy then do this right.’

To all this Hector gives no word, but greedily he strives

With all speed to repel the Greeks, and shed in floods their lives,

And left Sarpedon: but what face soever he put on

Of following the common cause, he left this prince alone,

For his particular grudge, because so late he was so plain

In his reproof before the host, and that did he retain;

However, for example sake he would not show it then,

And for his shame too, since ’twas just. But good Sarpedon’s men

Ventur’d themselves, and forc’d him off, and set him underneath

The goodly beech of Jupiter, where now they did unsheath

The ashen lance: strong Pelagon, his friend, most lov’d, most true,

Enforc’d it from his maimed thigh: with which his spirit flew,

And darkness over-flew his eyes; yet with a gentle gale,

That round about the dying prince cool Boreas did exhale,

He was revived, recomforted, that else had griev’d and died.

All this time flight drave to the fleet the Argives, who applied

No weapon ’gainst the proud pursuit, nor ever turn’d a head;

They knew so well that Mars pursu’d, and dreadful Hector led.

Then who was first, who last, whose lives the iron Mars did seize,

And Priam’s Hector? Helenus, surnamed Oenopides,

Good Teuthras, and Orestes skill’d in managing of horse;

Bold Oenomaus, and a man renown’d for martial force,

Trechus, the great Aetolian chief, Oresbius, that did wear

The gaudy mitre, studied wealth extremely, and dwelt near

Th’ Athlantic lake Cephisides, in Hyla, by whose seat

The good men of Boeotia dwelt. This slaughter grew so great,

It flew to heaven: Saturnia discern’d it, and cried out

To Pallas: ‘O unworthy sight, to see a field so fought,

And break our words to Sparta’s king, that Ilion should be rac’d,

And he return reveng’d, when thus we see his Greeks disgrac’d,

And bear the harmful rage of Mars! Come, let us use our care,

That we dishonour not our pow’rs.’ Minerva was as yare

As she, at the despite of Troy. Her golden-bridled steeds

Then Saturn’s daughter brought abroad, and Hebe, she proceeds

T’ address her chariot instantly; she gives it either wheel

Beam’d with eight spokes of sounding brass; the axle-tree was steel,

The fell’ffs incorruptible gold, their upper hands of brass,

Their matter most unvalued, their work of wondrous grace.

The naves in which the spokes were driv’n were all with silver bound;

The chariot’s seat two hoops of gold and silver strength’ned round,

Edg’d with a gold and silver fringe; the beam that look’d before

Was massy silver, on whose top geres all of gold it wore,

And golden poitrils. Juno mounts, and her hot horses rein’d,

That thirsted for contention, and still of peace complain’d.

Minerva wrapt her in the robe that curiously she wove,

With glorious colours, as she sate on th’ azure floor of Jove;

And wore the arms that he puts on, bent to the tearful field,

About her broad-spread shoulders hung his huge and horrid shield,

Fring’d round with ever-fighting snakes; through it was drawn to life

The miseries and deaths of fight; in it frown’d bloody Strife;

In it shin’d sacred Fortitude; in it fell Pursuit flew;

In it the monster Gorgon’s head, in which held out to view

Were all the dire ostents of Jove; on her big head she plac’d

His four-plum’d glittering casque of gold, so admirably vast

It would an hundred garrisons of soldiers comprehend.

Then to her shining chariot her vigorous feet ascend,

And in her violent hand she takes his grave, huge, solid lance,

With which the conquests of her wrath she useth to advance

And overturn whole fields of men, to show she was the seed

Of him that thunders. Then heaven’s queen, to urge her horses speed,

Takes up the scourge, and forth they fly; the ample gates of heaven

Rung, and flew open of themselves, the charge whereof is given,

With all Olympus and the sky, to the distinguish’d Hours,

That clear or hide it all in clouds, or pour it down in show’rs.

This way their scourge-obeying horse made haste, and soon they won

The top of all the topful heavens, where aged Saturn’s son

Sate sever’d from the other gods; then stay’d the white-arm’d queen

Her steeds, and ask’d of Jove, if Mars did not incense his spleen

With his foul deeds, in ruining so many and so great

In the command and grace of Greece, and in so rude a heat.

At which, she said, Apollo laugh’d, and Venus, who still sue

To that mad god for violence, that never justice knew;

For whose impiety she ask’d if with his wished love

Herself might free the field of him. He bade her rather move

Athenia to the charge she sought, who us’d of old to be

The bane of Mars, and had as well the gift of spoil as he.

This grace she slack’d not, but her horse scourg’d, that in nature flew

Betwixt the cope of stars and earth: and how far at a view

A man into the purple sea may from a hill descry,

So far a high-neighing horse of heaven at every jump would fly.

Arriv’d at Troy, where broke in curls the two floods mix their force,

Scamander and bright Simois, Saturnia stay’d her horse,

Took them from chariot, and a cloud of mighty depth diffus’d

About them; and the verdant banks of Simois produc’d

In nature what they eat in heaven. Then both the goddesses

March’d like a pair of timorous doves, in hasting their access

To th’ Argive succour. Being arriv’d, where both the most and best

Were heap’d together (showing all like lions at a feast

Of new-slain carcasses; or boars, beyond encounter strong);

There found they Diomed; and there, ’midst all th’ admiring throng,

Saturnia put on Stentor’s shape, that had a brazen voice,

And spake as loud as fifty men; like whom she made a noise,

And chid the Argives: ‘O ye Greeks, in name and outward rite

But princes only, not in act: what scandal, what despite

Use ye to honour! All the time the great Aeacides

Was conversant in arms, your foes durst not a foot address

Without their ports, so much they fear’d his lance that all controll’d;

And now they out-ray to your fleet.’ This did with shame make bold

The general spirit and power of Greece; when, with particular note

Of their disgrace, Athenia made Tydeus issue hote.

She found him at his chariot, refreshing of his wound

Inflicted by slain Pandarus; his sweat did so abound,

It much annoy’d him underneath the broad belt of his shield;

With which – and tired with his toil – his soul could hardly yield

His body motion. With his hand he lifted up the belt,

And wip’d away that clotter’d blood the fervent wound did melt.

Minerva lean’d against his horse, and near their withers laid

Her sacred hand, then spake to him: ‘Believe me, Diomed,

Tydeus exampled not himself in thee his son; not great,

But yet he was a soldier, a man of so much heat

That in his embassy for Thebes, when I forbad his mind

To be too vent’rous, and when feasts his heart might have declin’d,

With which they welcom’d him, he made a challenge to the best,

And foil’d the best; I gave him aid, because the rust of rest

That would have seiz’d another mind he suffer’d not, but us’d

The trial I made like a man, and their soft feasts refus’d.

Yet when I set thee on, thou faint’st; I guard thee, charge, exhort

That – I abetting thee – thou shouldst be to the Greeks a fort,

And a dismay to Ilion; yet thou obey’st in nought,

Afraid, or slothful, or else both: henceforth renounce all thought

That ever thou wert Tydeus’ son.’ He answer’d her: ‘I know

Thou art Jove’s daughter; and for that in all just duty owe

Thy speeches rev’rence, yet affirm ingenuously that fear

Doth neither hold me spiritless, nor sloth. I only bear

Thy charge in zealous memory, that I should never war

With any blessed deity, unless (exceeding far

The limits of her rule) the queen, that governs chamber sport,

Should press to field; and her thy will enjoin’d my lance to hurt.

But he whose pow’r hath right in arms, I knew in person here,

Besides the Cyprian deity, and therefore did forbear,

And here have gather’d in retreat these other Greeks you see,

With note and rev’rence of your charge.’ ‘My dearest mind,’ said she,

‘What then was fit is chang’d: ’tis true, Mars hath just rule in war –

But just war; otherwise he raves, not fights; he’s alter’d far.

He vow’d to Juno and myself that his aid should be us’d

Against the Trojans; whom it guards, and therein he abus’d

His rule in arms, infring’d his word, and made his war unjust:

He is inconstant, impious, mad. Resolve then; firmly trust

My aid of thee against his worst, or any deity:

Add scourge to thy free horse, charge home: he fights perfidiously.’