Classic Poem

Within the faire-pav'd Court of Jove, he and the Gods conferd
About the sad events of Troy—amongst whom ministerd
Blest Hebe Nectar. As they sate and did Troy's towres behold,
They drank, and pledg'd each other round, in full-crownd cups of gold.
The mirth at whose feast was begun by great Saturnides
In urging a begun dislike amongst the Goddesses,
But chiefly in his solemne Queene, whose splene he was disposd
To tempt yet further—knowing well what anger it inclosd,
And how wives' angers should be usd. On which (thus pleasd) he playd:
‘Two Goddesses there are that still give Menelaus ayd,
And one that Paris loves. The two that sit from us so farre
(Which Argive Juno is and she that rules in deeds of warre)
No doubt are pleasd to see how well the late-seene fight did frame—
And yet (upon the adverse part) the laughter-loving Dame
Made her powre good too for her friend—for though he were so neare
The stroke of death in th'other's hopes she took him from them cleare.
The conquest yet is questionlesse the martiall Spartan king's.
We must consult then what events shall crowne these future things—
If warres and combats we shall still with even successes strike,
Or (as impartiall) friendship plant on both parts. If ye like
The last, and that it will as well delight as meerely please
Your happie Deities, still let stand old Priam's towne in peace
And let the Lacedæmon king againe his Queene enjoy.’
As Pallas and heaven's Queene sat close, complotting ill to Troy,
With silent murmures they receiv'd this ill-lik't choice from Jove,
Gainst whom was Pallas much incenst, because the Queene of Love
Could not without his leave relieve, in that late point of death,
The sonne of Priam, whom she loath'd. Her wrath yet fought beneath
Her supreme wisedome, and was curb'd: but Juno needs must ease
Her great heart with her readie tongue, and said: ‘What words are these,
Austere and too much Saturn's sonne? Why wouldst thou render still
My labours idle, and the sweat of my industrious will
Dishonor with so little power? My chariot horse are tir'd
With posting to and fro for Greece, and bringing banes desir'd
To people-mustring Priamus and his perfidious sonnes;
Yet thou protectst and joynst with them, when each just Deitie shuns.
Go on, but ever go resolv'd all other Gods have vow'd
To crosse thy partiall course for Troy in all that makes it proud.’
At this the cloud-compelling Jove a farre-fetcht sigh let flie,
And said: ‘Thou Furie, what offence of such impietie
Hath Priam or his sonnes done thee, that with so high a hate
Thou shouldst thus ceaslesly desire to raze and ruinate
So well a builded towne as Troy? I thinke (hadst thou the powre)
Thou wouldst the ports and farre-stretcht wals flie over and devoure
Old Priam and his issue quicke, and make all Troy thy feast,
And then at length I hope thy wrath and tired spleene would rest—
To which run on thy chariot, that nought be found in me
Of just cause to our future jarres. In this yet strengthen thee
And fixe it in thy memorie fast—that, if I entertaine
As peremptorie a desire to levell with the plaine
A citie where thy loved live, stand not betwixt my ire
And what it aimes at, but give way when thou hast thy desire,
Which now I grant thee willingly, although against my will.
For not beneath the ample Sunne and heaven's starre-bearing hill
There is a towne of earthly men so honour'd in my mind
As sacred Troy, nor of earth's kings as Priam and his kind,
Who never let my altars lacke rich feast of offrings slaine
And their sweet savours—for which grace I honor them againe.’
Drad Juno, with the Cowe's faire eyes, replyed: ‘Three townes there are
Of great and eminent respect both in my love and care—
Mycene, with the brode high waies, and Argos, rich in horse,
And Sparta—all which three destroy, when thou envi'st their force.
I will not aid them nor maligne thy free and soveraigne will,
For if I should be envious and set against their ill,
I know my envie were in vaine since thou art mightier farre.
But we must give each other leave, and winke at either's warre.
I likewise must have powre to crowne my workes with wished end,
Because I am a Deitie and did from thence descend
Whence thou thy selfe and th'elder borne: wise Saturne was our Sire.
And thus there is a two-fold cause that pleads for my desire,
Being sister, and am cal'd thy wife—and more, since thy command
Rules all Gods else, I claime therein a like superiour hand.
All wrath before then now remit, and mutually combine
In either's Empire—I, thy rule, and thou, illustrate mine.
So will the other Gods agree and we shall all be strong.
And first (for this late plot) with speed let Pallas go among
The Troyans and some one of them entice to breake the truce
By offering in some treacherous wound the honourd Greekes' abuse.’
The Father both of men and Gods agreed, and Pallas sent,
With these wing'd words, to both the hosts: ‘Make all haste, and invent
Some meane by which the men of Troy, against the truce agreed,
May stirre the glorious Greekes to armes, with some inglorious deed.’
Thus charg'd he her with haste that did, before, in hast abound,
Who cast her selfe from all the heights with which steepe heaven is crownd.
And as Jove, brandishing a starre (which men a Comet call),
Hurls out his curled haire abrode, that from his brand exhale
A thousand sparkes (to fleets at sea and everie mightie host
Of all presages and ill haps a signe mistrusted most):
So Pallas fell twixt both the Camps and sodainly was lost—
When through the breasts of all that saw she strooke a strong amaze,
With viewing in her whole descent her bright and ominous blaze,
When straight one to another turn'd, and said: ‘Now thundring Jove
(Great Arbiter of peace and armes) will either stablish love
Amongst our nations or renue such warre as never was.’
Thus either armie did presage when Pallas made her passe
Amongst the multitude of Troy—who now put on the grace
Of brave Laodocus, the flowre of old Antenor's race,
And sought for Lycian Pandarus, a man that, being bred
Out of a faithlesse familie, she thought was fit to shed
The blood of any innocent and breake the covenant sworne.
He was Lycaon's sonne, whom Jove into a Wolfe did turne
For sacrificing of a child, and yet in armes renownd
As one that was inculpable. Him Pallas standing found
And round about him his strong troopes that bore the shadie shields.
He brought them from Æsepus' flood, let through the Lycian fields;
Whom standing neare, she whispred thus: ‘Lycaon's warlike sonne,
Shall I despaire at thy kind hands to have a favour done?
Nor dar'st thou let an arrow flie upon the Spartan king?
It would be such a grace to Troy, and such a glorious thing,
That everie man would give his gift, but Alexander's hand
Would loade thee with them, if he could discover from his stand
His foe's pride strooke downe with thy shaft, and he himselfe ascend
The flaming heape of funerall. Come, shoote him, princely friend;
But first invoke the God of light, that in thy land was borne
And is in archer's art the best that ever sheafe hath worne—
To whom a hundred first-ew'd lambes vow thou in holy fire
When safe to sacred Zelia's towres thy zealous steps retire.’
With this the mad-gift-greedie man Minerva did perswade,
Who instantly drew forth a bow most admirably made
Of th'antler of a jumping Goate bred in a steepe upland,
Which Archer-like (as long before he tooke his hidden stand,
The Evicke skipping from a rocke) into the breast he smote
And headlong feld him from his cliffe. The forehead of the Gote
Held out a wondrous goodly palme that sixteene branches brought,
Of all which (joynd) an usefull bow a skilfull Bowyer wrought,
Which pickt and polisht, both the ends he hid with hornes of gold.
And this bow (bent) he close laid downe and bad his souldiers hold
Their shields before him, lest the Greekes (discerning him) should rise
In tumults ere the Spartan king could be his arrowe's prise.
Meane space with all his care he chusd, and from his quiver drew,
An arrow fetherd best for flight and yet that never flew—
Strong-headed and most apt to pierce. Then tooke he up his bow
And nockt his shaft—the ground whence all their future griefe did grow—
When (praying to his God the Sunne, that was in Lycia bred
And king of Archers, promising that he the blood would shed
Of full an hundred first-fallen lambes, all offred to his name
When to Zelia's sacred wals from rescu'd Troy he came)
He tooke his arrow by the nocke and to his bended brest
The Oxy sinew close he drew even till the pile did rest
Upon the bosome of the bow, and, as that savage prise
His strength constraind into an Orb, (as if the wind did rise)
The coming of it made a noise, the sinew-forged string
Did give a mightie twang, and forth the eager shaft did sing
(Affecting speedinesse of flight) amongst the Achive throng.
Nor were the blessed heavenly powres unmindfull of thy wrong,
O Menelaus, but in chiefe Jove's seed, the Pillager,
Stood close before and slackt the force the arrow did confer,
With as much care and little hurt as doth a mother use
And keepe off from her babe, when sleepe doth through his powers diffuse
His golden humor, and th'assaults of rude and busie flies
She still checks with her carefull hand—for so the shaft she plies
That on the buttons made of gold which made his girdle fast,
And where his curets double were, the fall of it she plac't.
And thus much proofe she put it to: the buckle made of gold,
The belt it fastned, bravely wrought, his curets' double fold,
And, last, the charmed plate he wore, which helpt him more than all
And gainst all darts and shafts bestowd was to his life a wall.
So (through all these) the upper skin the head did onely race,
Yet foorth the blood flow'd which did much his royall person grace,
And shew'd upon his Ivorie skin as doth a purple dye
Laid (by a Dame of Caria, or lovely Mæony)
On Ivorie, wrought in ornaments to decke the cheeks of horse,
Which in her mariage roome must lie, whose beauties have such force
That they are wisht of many knights, but are such precious things
That they are kept for horse that draw the chariots of kings—
Which horse (so deckt) the chariotere esteemes a grace to him.
Like these (in grace) the blood upon thy solid thighes did swim,
O Menelaus, downe thy calves and ankles to the ground—
For nothing decks a souldier so as doth an honour'd wound.
Yet (fearing he had far'd much worse) the haire stood up on end
On Agamemnon, when he saw so much blacke blood descend.
And stifned with the like dismay was Menelaus too,
But (seeing th'arrowe's stale without, and that the head did go
No further than it might be seene) he cald his spirits againe;
Which Agamemnon marking not (but thinking he was slaine),
He grip't his brother by the hand and sigh't as he would breake,
Which sigh the whole host tooke from him, who thus at last did speake:
‘O dearest brother, is't for this? That thy death must be wrought,
Wrought I this truce? For this hast thou the single combat fought
For all the armie of the Greekes? For this hath Ilion sworne
And trod all faith beneath their feet? Yet all this hath not worne
The right we challeng'd out of force; this cannot render vaine
Our stricken right hands, sacred wine nor all our offrings slaine.
For though Olympius be not quicke in making good our ill,
He will be sure, as he is slow, and sharplier prove his will.
Their owne hands shall be ministers of those plagues they despise,
Which shall their wives and children reach, and all their progenies.
For both in mind and soule I know that there shall come a day
When Ilion, Priam, all his powre, shall quite be worne away,
When heaven-inhabiting Jove shall shake his fierie shield at all
For this one mischiefe. This, I know, the world cannot recall.
But be all this, all my griefe still for thee will be the same,
Dear brother, if thy life must here put out his royall flame.
I shall to sandie Argos turne with infamie my face,
And all the Greekes will call for home; old Priam and his race
Will flame in glorie, Helena, untoucht, be still their pray;
And thy bones in our enemies' earth our cursed fates shall lay;
Thy Sepulcher be troden downe; the pride of Troy desire
(Insulting on it): “Thus, O thus, let Agamemnon's ire
In all his acts be expiate, as now he carries home
His idle armie, emptie ships, and leaves here overcome
Good Menelaus!” When this Brave breakes in their hated breath,
Then let the broade earth swallow me and take me quicke to death.’
‘Nor shall this ever chance,’ said he, ‘and therefore be of cheare,
Lest all the armie (led by you) your passions put in feare.
The arrow fell in no such place as death could enter at.
My girdle, curets doubled here, and my most trusted plate,
Objected all twixt me and death, the shaft scarce piercing one.’
‘Good brother,’ said the king, ‘I wish it were no further gone,
For then our best in medicines skild shall ope and search the wound,
Applying balmes to ease thy paines, and soone restore thee sound.’
This said, divine Talthybius he cald, and bad him haste
Machaon (Æsculapius' sonne, who most of men was grac't
With Physick's soveraigne remedies) to come and lend his hand
To Menelaus, ‘shot by one well-skild in the command
Of bow and arrowes, one of Troy or of the Lycian aid,
Who much hath glorified our foe and us as much dismaid.’
He heard, and hasted instantly, and cast his eyes about
The thickest squadrons of the Greekes to find Machaon out.
He found him standing guarded well with well-arm'd men of Thrace,
With whom he quickly joynd, and said: ‘Man of Apollo's race!
Haste—for the king of men commands—to see a wound imprest
In Menelaus (great in armes) by one instructed best
In th'art of archerie, of Troy or of the Lycian bands,
That them with such renowne adornes, us with dishonor brands.’
Machaon much was mov'd with this, who with the herald flew
From troope to troope alongst the host, and soone they came in view
Of hurt Atrides, circled round with all the Grecian kings,
Who all gave way; and straight he drawes the shaft, which forth he brings
Without the forkes; the girdle then, plate, curets, off he pluckes
And viewes the wound; when first from it the clotterd blood he sucks,
Then medicines wondrously composd the skilfull Leech applyed,
Which loving Chiron taught his Sire, he from his Sire had tryed.
While these were thus employd to ease the Atrean martialist,
The Troyans arm'd and charg'd the Greekes: the Greekes arme and resist.
Then not asleepe nor maz'd with feare, nor shifting off the blowes,
You could behold the king of men; but in full speed he goes
To set a glorious fight on foote; and he examples this
With toyling (like the worst) on foote, who therefore did dismisse
His brasse-arm'd chariot and his steeds with Ptolemæus' sonne
(Sonne of Piraides), their guide, the good Eurymedon—
‘Yet,’ said the king, ‘attend with them, lest wearinesse should seise
My lims, surcharg'd with ordering troopes so thicke and vast as these.’
Eurymedon then rein'd his horse that trotted neighing by;
The king a foot-man, and so scowres the squadrons orderly.
Those of his swiftly-mounted Greekes that in their armes were fit,
Those he put on with chearfull words, and bad them not remit
The least sparke of their forward spirits because the Troyans durst
Take these abhord advantages, but let them do their wurst—
For they might be assur'd that Jove would patronise no lies,
And that, who with the breach of truce, would hurt their enemies
With vultures should be torne themselves, that they should raze their towne,
Their wives and children at their breasts led vassals to their owne.
But such as he beheld hang off from that increasing fight,
Such would he bitterly rebuke, and with disgrace excite:
‘Base Argives, blush ye not to stand, as made for Buts to darts?
Why are ye thus discomfited like Hinds that have no harts,
Who, wearied with a long-run field, are instantly embost,
Stand still, and in their beastly breasts is all their courage lost?
And so stand you strooke with amaze, nor dare to strike a stroke.
Would ye the foe should nearer yet your dastard splenes provoke
Even where on Neptune's fomie shore our navies lie in sight,
To see if Jove will hold your hands and teach ye how to fight?’
Thus he (commanding) rang'd the host, and (passing many a band)
He came to the Cretensian troopes, where all did armed stand
About the martiall Idomen, who bravely stood before
In vantguard of his troopes, and matcht for strength a savage Bore,
Meriones (his chariotere) the Rereguard bringing on—
Which seene to Atreus' sonne, to him it was a sight alone,
And Idomen's confirmed mind with these kind words he seekes:
‘O Idomen! I ever lov'd thy selfe past all the Greekes,
In warre, or any worke of peace, at table, every where:
For when the best of Greece besides mixe ever, at our cheere,
My good old ardent wine with small, and our inferiour mates
Drinke even that mixt wine measur'd too, thou drinkst without those rates
Our old wine neate, and evermore thy boll stands full like mine,
To drinke still when and what thou wilt. Then rowse that heart of thine,
And whatsoever heretofore thou hast assum'd to be,
This day be greater.’ To the king in this sort answerd he:
‘Atrides, what I ever seem'd, the same at everie part
This day shall shew me at the full, and I will fit thy hart.
But thou shouldst rather cheare the rest, and tell them they in right
Of all good warre must offer blowes and should begin the fight
(Since Troy first brake the holy truce) and not endure these braves,
To take wrong first and then be dar'd to the revenge it craves—
Assuring them that Troy, in fate, must have the worse at last,
Since first, and gainst a truce, they hurt, where they should have embrac't.’
This comfort and advice did fit Atrides' heart indeed,
Who still through new-raisd swarmes of men held his laborious speed,
And came where both th'Ajaces stood—whom, like the last, he found
Arm'd, caskt and readie for the fight. Behind them, hid the ground
A cloud of foot, that seem'd to smoke. And as a Goteheard spies
On some hil's top, out of the Sea, a rainie vapour rise,
Driven by the breath of Zephyrus, which (though farre off he rest)
Comes on as blacke as pitch and brings a tempest in his breast—
Whereat he, frighted, drives his heards apace into a den:
So (darkning earth with darts and shields) shew'd these with all their men.
This sight with like joy fir'd the king, who thus let forth the flame
In crying out to both the Dukes: ‘O you of equall name
I must not cheare. Nay, I disclaime all my command of you:
Your selves command with such free minds and make your souldiers shew
As you nor I led, but themselves. O would our father Jove,
Minerva and the God of light would all our bodies move
With such brave spirits as breathe in you! Then Priam's loftie towne
Should soone be taken by our hands, for ever overthrowne.’
Then held he on to other troopes, and Nestor next beheld
(The subtle Pylian Orator) range up and downe the field,
Embattelling his men at armes and stirring all to blowes,
Points everie legion out his Chiefe, and every Chiefe he showes
The formes and discipline of warre. Yet his Commanders were
All expert and renowmed men. Great Pelagon was there,
Alastor, manly Chromius and Hæmon worth a Throne,
And Bias that could armies leade. With these he first put on
His horse troopes with their chariots. His foote (of which he chusde
Many, the best and ablest men, and which he ever usde
As rampire to his generall powre) he in the Rere disposd.
The slouthfull and the least of spirit he in the midst inclosd,
That such as wanted noble wils base need might force to stand.
His horse troopes (that the Vantgard had) he strictly did command
To ride their horses temperatly, to keepe their rankes and shun
Confusion, lest their horsemanship and courage made them run
(Too much presum'd on) much too farre, and (charging so alone)
Engage themselves in th'enemie's strength, where many fight with one:
‘Who his owne chariot leaves to range, let him not freely go,
But straight unhorse him with a lance, for tis much better so:
And with this discipline,’ said he, ‘this forme, these minds, this trust,
Our Ancestors have walles and townes laid levell with the dust.’
Thus prompt, and long inur'd to armes, this old man did exhort,
And this Atrides likewise tooke in wondrous chearefull sort,
And said: ‘O Father! would to heaven that as thy mind remaines
In wonted vigor, so thy knees could undergo our paines!
But age, that all men overcomes, hath made his prise on thee,
Yet still I wish that some young man, growne old in mind, might be
Put in proportion with thy yeares, and thy mind (young in age)
Be fitly answerd with his youth—that still where conflicts rage
And young men usd to thrust for fame, thy brave exampling hand
Might double our young Grecian spirits and grace our whole Command.’
The old knight answer'd: ‘I my selfe could wish, O Atreus' sonne,
I were as young as when I slue brave Ereuthalion.
But Gods at all times give not all their gifts to mortall men.
If then I had the strength of youth, I mist the Counsels then
That yeares now give me, and now yeares want that maine strength of youth.
Yet still my mind retaines her strength (as you now said the sooth)
And would be where that strength is usd, affoording counsels sage
To stirre youths' minds up: tis the grace and office of our age.
Let yonger sinewes, men sprong up whole ages after me
And such as have strength, use it, and as strong in honour be.’
The king (all this while comforted) arriv'd next where he found
Well-rode Menestheus (Peteus' sonne) stand still, invirond round
With his well-train'd Athenian troopes; and next to him he spide
The wise Ulysses, deedlesse too, and all his bands beside
Of strong Cephalians—for as yet th'alarme had not bene heard
In all their quarters, Greece and Troy were then so newly stird
And then first mov'd (as they conceiv'd), and they so lookt about
To see both hoasts give proofe of that they yet had cause to doubt.
Atrides (seeing them stand so still and spend their eyes at gaze)
Began to chide: ‘And why,’ said he, ‘dissolv'd thus in a maze,
Thou sonne of Peteus, Jove-nurst king, and thou in wicked sleight
A cunning souldier, stand ye off? Expect ye that the fight
Should be by other men begun? Tis fit the formost band
Should shew you there: you first should front who first lifts up his hand.
First you can heare when I invite the Princes to a feast,
When first, most friendly and at will, ye eate and drinke the best:
Yet in the fight most willingly ten troopes ye can behold
Take place before ye.’ Ithacus at this his browes did fold
And said: ‘How hath thy violent tongue broke through thy set of teeth,
To say that we are slacke in fight and to the field of death
Looke others should enforce our way—when we were busied then
(Even when thou spak'st) against the foe to cheare and leade our men?
But thy eyes shall be witnesses (if it content thy will
And that, as thou pretendst, these cares do so affect thee still).
The father of Telemachus (whom I esteeme so deare
And to whom as a Legacie I'le leave my deeds done here)
Even with the formost band of Troy hath his encounter dar'd,
And therefore are thy speeches vaine and had bene better spar'd.’
He, smiling, since he saw him mov'd, recald his words, and said:
‘Most generous Laertes’ sonne, most wise of all our aid,
I neither do accuse thy worth more than thy selfe may hold
Fit (that inferiours thinke not much, being slacke, to be controld),
Nor take I on me thy command, for well I know thy mind
Knowes how sweet gentle counsels are, and that thou standst enclind,
As I my selfe, for all our good. On, then: if now we spake
What hath displeasd, another time we full amends will make—
And Gods grant that thy vertue here may prove so free and brave
That my reproofes may still be vaine and thy deservings grave.’
Thus parted they, and forth he went, when he did leaning find
Against his chariot, neare his horse, him with the mightie mind,
Great Diomedes (Tydeus' sonne) and Sthenelus, the seed
Of Capaneus, whom the king seeing likewise out of deed,
Thus cried he out on Diomed: O me! in what a feare
The wise great warriour, Tydeus' sonne, stands gazing everie where
For others to begin the fight! It was not Tydeus' use
To be so danted, whom his spirit would evermore produce,
Before the formost of his friends, in these affaires of fright,
As they report that have beheld him labour in a fight.
For me, I never knew the man, nor in his presence came;
But excellent above the rest he was in generall fame.
And one renowm'd exploit of his I am assur'd is true:
He came to the Mycenian Court without armes and did sue
At Godlike Polynices' hands to have some worthie aid
To their designes that gainst the wals of sacred Thebes were laid.
He was great Polynices' guest, and nobly entertaind,
And of the kind Mycenian state what he requested gaind
In meere consent; but when they should the same in act approve
(By some sinister prodigies held out to them by Jove)
They were discourag'd. Thence he went and safely had his passe
Backe to Asopus' flood, renowm'd for Bulrushes and grasse.
Yet once more, their Ambassadour, the Grecian Peeres addresse
Lord Tydeus to Eteocles, to whom being given accesse,
He found him feasting with a crew of Cadmians in his hall—
Amongst whom, though an enemie and onely one to all,
To all yet he his challenge made at everie Martiall feate,
And easly foild all, since with him Minerva was so great.
The ranke-rode Cadmians (much incenst with their so foule disgrace)
Lodg'd ambuscados for their foe in some well-chosen place
By which he was to make returne. Twise five and twentie men,
And two of them great captaines too, the ambush did containe.
The names of those two men of rule were Mæon, Hæmon's sonne,
And Polyphontes, Keepe-field cald, the heire of Autophon,
By all men honord like the Gods. Yet these and all their friends
Were sent to hell by Tydeus' hand and had untimely ends—
He trusting to the aid of Gods, reveald by Augurie,
Obeying which one Chiefe he sav'd and did his life apply
To be the heavie messenger of all the others' deaths;
And that sad message (with his life) to Mæon he bequeaths.
So brave a knight was Tydeus—of whom a sonne is sprong
Inferiour farre in martiall deeds, though higher in his tongue.’
All this Tydides silent heard, aw'd by the reverend king;
Which stung hote Sthenelus with wrath, who thus put forth his sting:
‘Atrides! when thou know'st the truth, speake what thy knowledge is,
And do not lie so. For I know, and I will bragge in this,
That we are farre more able men than both our fathers were.
We tooke the seven-fold ported Thebes when yet we had not there
So great helpe as our fathers had, and fought beneath a wall
Sacred to Mars, by helpe of Jove and trusting to the fall
Of happie signes from other Gods, by whom we tooke the towne
Untoucht—our fathers perishing there by follies of their owne.
And therefore never more compare our fathers' worth with ours.’
Tydides frownd at this, and said: ‘Suppresse thine anger's pow'rs,
Good friend, and heare why I refrain'd. Thou seest I am not mov'd
Against our Generall, since he did but what his place behov'd,
Admonishing all Greekes to fight; for if Troy prove our prise,
The honor and the joy is his. If here our ruine lies,
The shame and griefe for that as much is his in greatest kinds.
As he then his charge, weigh we ours—which is our dantlesse minds.’
Thus from his chariot (amply arm'd) he jumpt downe to the ground.
The armor of the angrie king so horribly did sound,
It might have made his bravest foe let feare take downe his braves.
And as when with the West-wind's flawes, the sea thrusts up her waves
One after other, thicke and high, upon the groning shores,
First in her selfe lowd (but opposd with banks and Rocks) she rores
And (all her backe in bristles set) spits everie way her fome:
So (after Diomed) instantly the field was overcome
With thicke impressions of the Greekes and all the noise that grew
(Ordring and chearing up their men) from onely leaders flew.
The rest went silently away, you could not heare a voice,
Nor would have thought in all their breasts they had one in their choice—
Their silence uttering their awe of them that them contrould,
Which made ech man keep bright his arms, march, fight still where he should.
The Troyans (like a sort of Ewes pend in a rich man's fold,
Close at his dore till all be milkt, and never baaing hold,
Hearing the bleating of their lambs) did all their wide host fill
With showts and clamors, nor observ'd one voice, one baaing still
But shew'd mixt tongs from many a land of men cald to their aid.
Rude Mars had th'ordring of their spirits—of Greeks, the learned Maid.
But Terror follow'd both the hosts, and Flight, and furious Strife,
The sister and the mate of Mars, that spoile of humane life.
And never is her rage at rest: at first she is but small,
Yet after (but a little fed) she growes so vast and tall
That while her feet move here in earth, her forhead is in heaven.
And this was she that made even then both hosts so deadly given.
Through every troope she stalkt and stird rough sighes up as she went;
But when in one field both the foes her furie did content
And both came under reach of darts, then darts and shields opposd
To darts and shields, strength answerd strength. Then swords and targets closd
With swords and targets, both with pikes; and then did tumult rise
Up to her height; then conqueror's boasts mixt with the conquerd's cries;
Earth flow'd with blood. And as from hils, raine waters headlong fall
That all waies eate huge Ruts which, met in one bed, fill a vall
With such a confluence of streames that on the mountaine grounds,
Farre off, in frighted shepheards' eares the bustling noise rebounds:
So grew their conflicts, and so shew'd their scuffling to the eare,
With flight and clamor still commixt, and all effects of feare.
And first renowm'd Antilochus slew (fighting in the face
Of all Achaia's formost bands, with an undanted grace)
Echepolus Thalysiades. He was an armed man
Whom, on his haire-plum'd helmet's crest, the dart first smote, then ran
Into his forehead and there stucke, the steele pile making way
Quite through his skull: a hastie night shut up his latest day.
His fall was like a fight-rac't towre, like which, lying there dispred,
King Elephenor (who was sonne to Chalcodon and led
The valiant Abants), covetous that he might first possesse
His armes, laid hands upon his feet, and hal'd him from the preasse
Of darts and Javelins hurld at him. The action of the king
When (great in heart) Agenor saw, he made his Javeline sing
To th'other's labor, and, along as he the trunke did wrest,
His side (at which he bore his shield in bowing of his breast)
Lay naked and receiv'd the lance: that made him lose his hold
And life together—which, in hope of that he lost, he sold.
But for his sake the fight grew fierce. The Troyans and their foes
Like wolves on one another rusht, and man for man it goes.
The next of name that serv'd his fate, great Ajax Telamon
Preferd so sadly. He was the heire to old Anthemion
And deckt with all the flowre of youth, the fruit of which yet fled
Before the honourd nuptiall torch could light him to his bed.
His name was Simoisius—for, some few yeares before,
His mother, walking downe the hill of Ida by the shore
Of Sylver Simois to see her parents' flocks, with them
She (feeling sodainely the paines of child-birth) by the streame
Of that bright river brought him forth; and so (of Simois)
They cald him Simoisius. Sweet was that birth of his
To his kind parents, and his growth did all their care employ.
And yet those rites of pietie that should have bene his joy
To pay their honourd yeares againe in as affectionate sort
He could not graciously performe, his sweet life was so short,
Cut off with mightie Ajax' lance. For as his spirit put on,
He strooke him at his breast's right pappe quite through his shoulder bone,
And in the dust of earth he fell that was the fruitfull soyle
Of his friends' hopes; but where he sow'd, he buried all his toyle.
And as a Poplar shot aloft, set by a river side,
In moist edge of a mightie fenne, his head in curls implide
But all his bodie plaine and smooth; to which a Wheel-wright puts
The sharpe edge of his shining axe and his soft timber cuts
From his innative roote, in hope to hew out of his bole
The Fell'ffs, or out-parts of a wheele that compasse in the whole,
To serve some goodly chariot; but (being bigge and sad
And to be hal'd home through the bogs) the usefull hope he had
Sticks there, and there the goodly plant lies withring out his grace—
So lay, by Jove-bred Ajax' hand, Anthemion's forward race,
Nor could through that vast fen of toiles be drawne to serve the ends
Intended by his bodie's pow'rs, nor cheare his aged friends.
But now the gay-arm'd Antiphus (a sonne of Priam) threw
His lance at Ajax through the preasse, which went by him and flew
On Leucus, wise Ulysses' friend. His groine it smote, as faine
He would have drawne into his spoile the carkasse of the slaine—
By which he fell, and that by him. It vext Ulysses' heart,
Who thrust into the face of fight, well-arm'd at everie part,
Came close and lookt about to find an object worth his lance;
Which when the Troyans saw him shake and he so neare advance,
All shrunke. He threw and forth it shin'd, nor fell but where it feld.
His friend's griefe gave it angrie powre and deadly way it held
Upon Democoon, who was sprung of Priam's wanton force,
Came from Abydus and was made the maister of his horse.
Through both his temples strooke the dart; the wood of one side shewd,
The pile out of the other lookt; and so the earth he strewd,
With much sound of his weightie armes. Then backe the formost went;
Even Hector yeelded. Then the Greekes gave worthie clamors vent,
Effecting then their first dumbe powers. Some drew the dead and spoild;
Some followed, that in open flight Troy might confesse it foild.
Apollo (angrie at the sight) from top of Ilion cride:
‘Turne head, ye well-rode Peeres of Troy, feed not the Grecians' pride.
They are not charm'd against your points—of steele nor Iron fram'd:
Nor fights the faire-haird Thetis' sonne, but sits at fleet inflam'd.’
So spake the dreadfull God from Troy. The Greekes, Jove's noblest seed
Encourag'd to keepe on the chace, and where fit spirit did need
She gave it, marching in the midst. Then flew the fatall howre
Backe on Diores, in returne of Ilion's sun-burnd powre—
Diores Amaryncides, whose right leg's ankle bone
And both the sinewes with a sharpe and handfull-charging stone
Pirus Imbrasides did breake, that led the Thracian bands
And came from Ænos. Downe he fell and up he held his hands
To his lov'd friends; his spirit wingd, to flie out of his breast.
With which not satisfied, againe Imbrasides addrest
His Javeline at him and so ript his navill that the wound
(As endlesly it shut his eyes) so (opend) on the ground
It powr'd his entrailes. As his foe went then suffisd away,
Thoas Ætolius threw a dart, that did his pile convay
Above his nipple through his lungs, when (quitting his sterne part)
He closd with him and, from his breast first drawing out his dart,
His sword flew in and by the midst it wip't his bellie out—
So tooke his life, but left his armes. His friends so flockt about
And thrust forth lances of such length before their slaughterd king,
Which, though their foe were big and strong and often brake the ring
Forg'd of their lances, yet (enforc't) he left th'affected prise.
The Thracian and Epeian Dukes laid close with closed eyes
By either other, drownd in dust: and round about the plaine,
All hid with slaughterd carkasses, yet still did hotely raigne
The martiall planet—whose effects had any eye beheld
Free and unwounded (and were led by Pallas through the field
To keepe off Javelins and suggest the least fault could be found)
He could not reprehend the fight, so many strew'd the ground.