THE ILIAD (Completed)

BOOK 6

The Gods had left the field, and o'er the plain Hither and thither surg'd the tide of war, As couch'd th' opposing chiefs their brass-tipp'd spears, Midway 'twixt Simois' and Scamander's streams.

First through the Trojan phalanx broke his way The son of Telamon, the prop of Greece, The mighty Ajax; on his friends the light Of triumph shedding, as Eusorus' son He smote, the noblest of the Thracian bands, Valiant and strong, the gallant Acamas. Full in the front, beneath the plumed helm, The sharp spear struck, and crashing thro' the bone, The warrior's eyes were clos'd in endless night.

Next valiant Diomed Axylus slew, The son of Teuthranes, who had his home In fair Arisba; rich in substance he, And lov'd of all; for, dwelling near the road, He op'd to all his hospitable gate; But none of all he entertain'd was there To ward aside the bitter doom of death: There fell they both, he and his charioteer, Calesius, who athwart the battle-field His chariot drove; one fate o'ertook them both.

Then Dresus and Opheltius of their arms Euryalus despoil'd; his hot pursuit AEsepus next, and Pedasus assail'd, Brothers, whom Abarbarea, Naiad nymph, To bold Bucolion bore; Bucolion, son Of great Laomedon, his eldest born, Though bastard: he upon the mountain side, On which his flocks he tended, met the nymph, And of their secret loves twin sons were born; Whom now at once Euryalus of strength And life depriv'd, and of their armour stripp'd.

By Polypoetes' hand, in battle strong, Was slain Astyalus; Pidutes fell, Chief of Percote, by Ulysses' spear; And Teucer godlike Aretaon slew. Antilochus, the son of Nestor, smote With gleaming lance Ablerus; Elatus By Agamemnon, King of men, was slain, Who dwelt by Satnois' widely-flowing stream, Upon the lofty heights of Pedasus. By Leitus was Phylacus in flight O'erta'en; Eurypylus Melanthius slew.

Then Menelaus, good in battle, took Adrastus captive; for his horses, scar'd And rushing wildly o'er the plain, amid The tangled tamarisk scrub his chariot broke, Snapping the pole; they with the flying crowd Held city-ward their course; he from the car Hurl'd headlong, prostrate lay beside the wheel, Prone on his face in dust; and at his side, Poising his mighty spear, Atrides stood. Adrastus clasp'd his knees, and suppliant cried, "Spare me, great son of Atreus! for my life Accept a price; my wealthy father's house A goodly store contains of brass, and gold, And well-wrought iron; and of these he fain Would pay a noble ransom, could he hear That in the Grecian ships I yet surviv'd."

His words to pity mov'd the victor's breast; Then had he bade his followers to the ships The captive bear; but running up in haste. Fierce Agamemnon cried in stern rebuke;

"Soft-hearted Menelaus, why of life So tender? Hath thy house receiv'd indeed Nothing but benefits at Trojan hands? Of that abhorred race, let not a man Escape the deadly vengeance of our arms; No, not the infant in its mother's womb; No, nor the fugitive; but be they all, They and their city, utterly destroy'd, Uncar'd for, and from mem'ry blotted out."

Thus as he spoke, his counsel, fraught with death, His brother's purpose chang'd; he with his hand Adrastus thrust aside, whom with his lance Fierce Agamemnon through the loins transfix'd; And, as he roll'd in death, upon his breast Planting his foot, the ashen spear withdrew.

Then loudly Nestor shouted to the Greeks: "Friends, Grecian heroes, ministers of Mars! Loiter not now behind, to throw yourselves Upon the prey, and bear it to the ships; Let all your aim be now to kill; anon Ye may at leisure spoil your slaughter'd foes."

With words like these he fir'd the blood of all. Now had the Trojans by the warlike Greeks In coward flight within their walls been driv'n; But to AEneas and to Hector thus The son of Priam, Helenus, the best Of all the Trojan seers, address'd his speech: "AEneas, and thou Hector, since on you, Of all the Trojans and the Lycian hosts, Is laid the heaviest burthen, for that ye Excel alike in council and in fight, Stand here awhile, and moving to and fro On ev'ry side, around the gates exhort The troops to rally, lest they fall disgrac'd, Flying for safety to their women's arms, And foes, exulting, triumph in their shame. Their courage thus restor'd, worn as we are, We with the Greeks will still maintain the fight, For so, perforce, we must; but, Hector, thou Haste to the city; there our mother find, Both thine and mine; on Ilium's topmost height By all the aged dames accompanied, Bid her the shrine of blue-ey'd Pallas seek; Unlock the sacred gates; and on the knees Of fair-hair'd Pallas place the fairest robe In all the house, the amplest, best esteem'd; And at her altar vow to sacrifice Twelve yearling kine that never felt the goad, So she have pity on the Trojan state, Our wives, and helpless babes, and turn away The fiery son of Tydeus, spearman fierce, The Minister of Terror; bravest he, In my esteem, of all the Grecian chiefs: For not Achilles' self, the prince of men, Though Goddess-born, such dread inspir'd; so fierce His rage; and with his prowess none may vie."