In passionate prayer he cried; and Zeus from heaven Hearkened, and hasted on the end of all, Which else he had delayed. He granted him This awful boon, that myriads of Troy's sons Should with their children perish: but that prayer He granted not, to turn Achilles' son Back from the wide-wayed town; nay, all the more He enkindled him to war, for he would now Give grace and glory to the Nereid Queen.

So purposed he, of all Gods mightiest. But now between the city and Hellespont Were Greeks and Trojans burning men and steeds In battle slain, while paused the murderous strife. For Priam sent his herald Menoetes forth To Agamemnon and the Achaean chiefs, Asking a truce wherein to burn the dead; And they, of reverence for the slain, gave ear; For wrath pursueth not the dead. And when They had lain their slain on those close-thronging pyres, Then did the Argives to their tents return, And unto Priam's gold-abounding halls The Trojans, for Eurypylus sorrowing sore: For even as Priam's sons they honoured him. Therefore apart from all the other slain, Before the Gate Dardanian—where the streams Of eddying Xanthus down from Ida flow Fed by the rains of heavens—they buried him.

Aweless Achilles' son the while went forth To his sire's huge tomb. Outpouring tears, he kissed The tall memorial pillar of the dead, And groaning clasped it round, and thus he cried: "Hail, father! Though beneath the earth thou lie In Hades' halls, I shall forget thee not. Oh to have met thee living mid the host! Then of each other had our souls had joy, Then of her wealth had we spoiled Ilium. But now, thou hast not seen thy child, nor I Seen thee, who yearned to look on thee in life. Yet, though thou be afar amidst the dead, Thy spear, thy son, have made thy foes to quail; And Danaans with exceeding joy behold One like to thee in stature, fame and deeds."

He spake, and wiped the hot tears from his face; And to his father's ships passed swiftly thence: With him went Myrmidon warriors two and ten, And white-haired Phoenix followed on with these Woefully sighing for the glorious dead.

Night rose o'er earth, the stars flashed out in heaven; So these brake bread, and slept till woke the Dawn. Then the Greeks donned their armour: flashed afar Its splendour up to the very firmament. Forth of their gates in one great throng they poured, Like snowflakes thick and fast, which drift adown Heavily from the clouds in winter's cold; So streamed they forth before the wall, and rose Their dread shout: groaned the deep earth 'neath their tramp.

The Trojans heard that shout, and saw that host, And marvelled. Crushed with fear were all their hearts Foreboding doom; for like a huge cloud seemed That throng of foes: with clashing arms they came: Volumed and vast the dust rose 'neath their feet. Then either did some God with hardihood thrill Deiphobus' heart, and made it void of fear, Or his own spirit spurred him on to fight, To drive by thrust of spear that terrible host Of foemen from the city of his birth. So there in Troy he cried with heartening speech: "O friends, be stout of heart to play the men! Remember all the agonies that war Brings in the end to them that yield to foes. Ye wrestle not for Alexander alone, Nor Helen, but for home, for your own lives, For wives, for little ones, for parents grey, For all the grace of life, for all ye have, For this dear land—oh may she shroud me o'er Slain in the battle, ere I see her lie 'Neath foemen's spears—my country! I know not A bitterer pang than this for hapless men! O be ye strong for battle! Forth to the fight With me, and thrust this horror far away! Think not Achilles liveth still to war Against us: him the ravening fire consumed. Some other Achaean was it who so late Enkindled them to war. Oh, shame it were If men who fight for fatherland should fear Achilles' self, or any Greek beside! Let us not flinch from war-toil! have we not Endured much battle-travail heretofore? What, know ye not that to men sorely tried Prosperity and joyance follow toil? So after scourging winds and ruining storms Zeus brings to men a morn of balmy air; After disease new strength comes, after war Peace: all things know Time's changeless law of change."

Then eager all for war they armed themselves In haste. All through the town rang clangour of arms As for grim fight strong men arrayed their limbs. Here stood a wife, shuddering with dread of war, Yet piling, as she wept, her husband's arms Before his feet. There little children brought To a father his war-gear with eager haste; And now his heart was wrung to hear their sobs, And now he smiled on those small ministers, And stronger waxed his heart's resolve to fight To the last gasp for these, the near and dear. Yonder again, with hands that had not lost Old cunning, a grey father for the fray Girded a son, and murmured once and again: "Dear boy, yield thou to no man in the war!" And showed his son the old scars on his breast, Proud memories of fights fought long ago.

So when they all stood mailed in battle-gear, Forth of the gates they poured all eager-souled For war. Against the chariots of the Greeks Their chariots charged; their ranks of footmen pressed To meet the footmen of the foe. The earth Rang to the tramp of onset; pealed the cheer From man to man; swift closed the fronts of war. Loud clashed their arms all round; from either side War-cries were mingled in one awful roar Swift-winged full many a dart and arrow flew From host to host; loud clanged the smitten shields 'Neath thrusting spears, 'neath javelin-point and sword: Men hewed with battle-axes lightening down; Crimson the armour ran with blood of men. And all this while Troy's wives and daughters watched From high walls that grim battle of the strong. All trembled as they prayed for husbands, sons, And brothers: white-haired sires amidst them sat, And gazed, while anguished fear for sons devoured Their hearts. But Helen in her bower abode Amidst her maids, there held by utter shame.

So without pause before the wall they fought, While Death exulted o'er them; deadly Strife Shrieked out a long wild cry from host to host. With blood of slain men dust became red mire: Here, there, fast fell the warriors mid the fray.

Then slew Deiphobus the charioteer Of Nestor, Hippasus' son: from that high car Down fell he 'midst the dead; fear seized his lord Lest, while his hands were cumbered with the reins, He too by Priam's strong son might be slain. Melanthius marked his plight: swiftly he sprang Upon the car; he urged the horses on, Shaking the reins, goading them with his spear, Seeing the scourge was lost. But Priam's son Left these, and plunged amid a throng of foes. There upon many he brought the day of doom; For like a ruining tempest on he stormed Through reeling ranks. His mighty hand struck down Foes numberless: the plain was heaped with dead.

As when a woodman on the long-ridged hills Plunges amid the forest-depths, and hews With might and main, and fells sap-laden trees To make him store of charcoal from the heaps Of billets overturfed and set afire: The trunks on all sides fallen strew the slopes, While o'er his work the man exulteth; so Before Deiphobus' swift death-dealing hands In heaps the Achaeans each on other fell. The charging lines of Troy swept over some; Some fled to Xanthus' stream: Deiphobus chased Into the flood yet more, and slew and slew. As when on fish-abounding Hellespont's strand The fishermen hard-straining drag a net Forth of the depths to land; but, while it trails Yet through the sea, one leaps amid the waves Grasping in hand a sinuous-headed spear To deal the sword-fish death, and here and there, Fast as he meets them, slays them, and with blood The waves are reddened; so were Xanthus' streams Impurpled by his hands, and choked with dead.

Yet not without sore loss the Trojans fought; For all this while Peleides' fierce-heart son Of other ranks made havoc. Thetis gazed Rejoicing in her son's son, with a joy As great as was her grief for Achilles slain. For a great host beneath his spear were hurled Down to the dust, steeds, warriors slaughter-blent. And still he chased, and still he slew: he smote Amides war-renowned, who on his steed Bore down on him, but of his horsemanship Small profit won. The bright spear pierced him through From navel unto spine, and all his bowels Gushed out, and deadly Doom laid hold on him Even as he fell beside his horse's feet. Ascanius and Oenops next he slew; Under the fifth rib of the one he drave His spear, the other stabbed he 'neath the throat Where a wound bringeth surest doom to man. Whomso he met besides he slew—the names What man could tell of all that by the hands Of Neoptolemus died? Never his limbs Waxed weary. As some brawny labourer, With strong hands toiling in a fruitful field The livelong day, rains down to earth the fruit Of olives, swiftly beating with his pole, And with the downfall covers all the ground, So fast fell 'neath his hands the thronging foe.

Elsewhere did Agamemnon, Tydeus' son, And other chieftains of the Danaans toil With fury in the fight. Yet never quailed The mighty men of Troy: with heart and soul They also fought, and ever stayed from flight Such as gave back. Yet many heeded not Their chiefs, but fled, cowed by the Achaeans' might.

Now at the last Achilles' strong son marked How fast beside Scamander's outfall Greeks Were perishing. Those Troyward-fleeing foes Whom he had followed slaying, left he now, And bade Automedon thither drive, where hosts Were falling of the Achaeans. Straightway he Hearkened, and scourged the steeds immortal on To that wild fray: bearing their lord they flew Swiftly o'er battle-highways paved with death.

As Ares chariot-borne to murderous war Fares forth, and round his onrush quakes the ground, While on the God's breast clash celestial arms Outflashing fire, so charged Achilles' son Against Deiphobus. Clouds of dust upsoared About his horses' feet. Automedon marked The Trojan chief, and knew him. To his lord Straightway he named that hero war-renowned: "My king, this is Deiphobus' array— The man who from thy father fled in fear. Some God or fiend with courage fills him now."

Naught answered Neoptolemus, save to bid Drive on the steeds yet faster, that with speed He might avert grim death from perishing friends. But when to each other now full nigh they drew, Deiphobus, despite his battle-lust, Stayed, as a ravening fire stays when it meets Water. He marvelled, seeing Achilles' steeds And that gigantic son, huge as his sire; And his heart wavered, choosing now to flee, And now to face that hero, man to man As when a mountain boar from his young brood Chases the jackals—then a lion leaps From hidden ambush into view: the boar Halts in his furious onset, loth to advance, Loth to retreat, while foam his jaws about His whetted tusks; so halted Priam's son Car-steeds and car, perplexed, while quivered his hands About the lance. Shouted Achilles' son: "Ho, Priam's son, why thus so mad to smite Those weaker Argives, who have feared thy wrath And fled thine onset? So thou deem'st thyself Far mightiest! If thine heart be brave indeed, Of my spear now make trial in the strife."

On rushed he, as a lion against a stag, Borne by the steeds and chariot of his sire. And now full soon his lance had slain his foe, Him and his charioteer—but Phoebus poured A dense cloud round him from the viewless heights Of heaven, and snatched him from the deadly fray, And set him down in Troy, amid the rout Of fleeing Trojans: so did Peleus' son Stab but the empty air; and loud he cried: "Dog, thou hast 'scaped my wrath! No might of thine Saved thee, though ne'er so fain! Some God hath cast Night's veil o'er thee, and snatched thee from thy death."

Then Cronos' Son dispersed that dense dark cloud: Mist-like it thinned and vanished into air: Straightway the plain and all the land were seen. Then far away about the Scaean Gate He saw the Trojans: seeming like his sire, He sped against them; they at his coming quailed. As shipmen tremble when a wild wave bears Down on their bark, wind-heaved until it swings Broad, mountain-high above them, when the sea Is mad with tempest; so, as on he came, Terror clad all those Trojans as a cloak, The while he shouted, cheering on his men: "Hear, friends!—fill full your hearts with dauntless strength, The strength that well beseemeth mighty men Who thirst to win them glorious victory, To win renown from battle's tumult! Come, Brave hearts, now strive we even beyond our strength Till we smite Troy's proud city, till we win Our hearts' desire! Foul shame it were to abide Long deedless here and strengthless, womanlike! Ere I be called war-blencher, let me die!"

Then unto Ares' work their spirits flamed. Down on the Trojans charged they: yea, and these Fought with high courage, round their city now, And now from wall and gate-towers. Never lulled The rage of war, while Trojan hearts were hot To hurl the foemen back, and the strong Greeks To smite the town: grim havoc compassed all.

Then, eager for the Trojans' help, swooped down Out of Olympus, cloaked about with clouds, The son of Leto. Mighty rushing winds Bare him in golden armour clad; and gleamed With lightning-splendour of his descent the long Highways of air. His quiver clashed; loud rang The welkin; earth re-echoed, as he set His tireless feet by Xanthus. Pealed his shout Dreadly, with courage filling them of Troy, Scaring their foes from biding the red fray. But of all this the mighty Shaker of Earth Was ware: he breathed into the fainting Greeks Fierce valour, and the fight waxed murderous Through those Immortals' clashing wills. Then died Hosts numberless on either side. In wrath Apollo thought to smite Achilles' son In the same place where erst he smote his sire; But birds of boding screamed to left, to stay His mood, and other signs from heaven were sent; Yet was his wrath not minded to obey Those portents. Swiftly drew Earth-shaker nigh In mist celestial cloaked: about his feet Quaked the dark earth as came the Sea-king on. Then, to stay Phoebus' hand, he cried to him: "Refrain thy wrath: Achilles' giant son Slay not! Olympus' Lord himself shall be Wroth for his death, and bitter grief shall light On me and all the Sea-gods, as erstwhile For Achilles' sake. Nay, get thee back to heights Celestial, lest thou kindle me to wrath, And so I cleave a sudden chasm in earth, And Ilium and all her walls go down To darkness. Thine own soul were vexed thereat."

Then, overawed by the brother of his sire, And fearing for Troy's fate and for her folk, To heaven went back Apollo, to the sea Poseidon. But the sons of men fought on, And slew; and Strife incarnate gloating watched.

At last by Calchas' counsel Achaea's sons Drew back to the ships, and put from them the thought Of battle, seeing it was not foreordained That Ilium should fall until the might Of war-wise Philoctetes came to aid The Achaean host. This had the prophet learnt. From birds of prosperous omen, or had read In hearts of victims. Wise in prophecy-lore Was he, and like a God knew things to be.

Trusting in him, the sons of Atreus stayed Awhile the war, and unto Lemnos, land Of stately mansions, sent they Tydeus' son And battle-staunch Odysseus oversea. Fast by the Fire-god's city sped they on Over the broad flood of the Aegean Sea To vine-clad Lemnos, where in far-off days The wives wreaked murderous vengeance on their lords, In fierce wrath that they gave them not their due, But couched beside the handmaid-thralls of Thrace, The captives of their spears when they laid waste The land of warrior Thracians. Then these wives, Their hearts with fiery jealousy's fever filled, Murdered in every home with merciless hands Their husbands: no compassion would they show To their own wedded lords—such madness shakes The heart of man or woman, when it burns With jealousy's fever, stung by torturing pangs. So with souls filled with desperate hardihood In one night did they slaughter all their lords; And on a widowed nation rose the sun.

To hallowed Lemnos came those heroes twain; They marked the rocky cave where lay the son Of princely Poeas. Horror came on them When they beheld the hero of their quest Groaning with bitter pangs, on the hard earth Lying, with many feathers round him strewn, And others round his body, rudely sewn Into a cloak, a screen from winter's cold. For, oft as famine stung him, would he shoot The shaft that missed no fowl his aim had doomed. Their flesh he ate, their feathers vestured him. And there lay herbs and healing leaves, the which, Spread on his deadly wound, assuaged its pangs. Wild tangled elf-locks hung about his head. He seemed a wild beast, that hath set its foot, Prowling by night, upon a hidden trap, And so hath been constrained in agony To bite with fierce teeth through the prisoned limb Ere it could win back to its cave, and there In hunger and torturing pains it languisheth. So in that wide cave suffering crushed the man; And all his frame was wasted: naught but skin Covered his bones. Unwashen there he crouched With famine-haggard cheeks, with sunken eyes Glaring his misery 'neath cavernous brows. Never his groaning ceased, for evermore The ulcerous black wound, eating to the bone, Festered with thrills of agonizing pain. As when a beetling cliff, by seething seas Aye buffeted, is carved and underscooped, For all its stubborn strength, by tireless waves, Till, scourged by winds and lashed by tempest-flails, The sea into deep caves hath gnawed its base; So greater 'neath his foot grew evermore The festering wound, dealt when the envenomed fangs Tare him of that fell water-snake, which men Say dealeth ghastly wounds incurable, When the hot sun hath parched it as it crawls Over the sands; and so that mightiest man Lay faint and wasted with his cureless pain; And from the ulcerous wound aye streamed to earth Fetid corruption fouling all the floor Of that wide cave, a marvel to be heard Of men unborn. Beside his stony bed Lay a long quiver full of arrows, some For hunting, some to smite his foes withal; With deadly venom of that fell water-snake Were these besmeared. Before it, nigh to his hand, Lay the great bow, with curving tips of horn, Wrought by the mighty hands of Hercules.

Now when that solitary spied these twain Draw nigh his cave, he sprang to his bow, he laid The deadly arrow on the string; for now Fierce memory of his wrongs awoke against These, who had left him years agone, in pain Groaning upon the desolate sea-shore. Yea, and his heart's stem will he had swiftly wrought, But, even as upon that godlike twain He gazed, Athena caused his bitter wrath To melt away. Then drew they nigh to him With looks of sad compassion, and sat down On either hand beside him in the cave, And of his deadly wound and grievous pangs Asked; and he told them all his sufferings. And they spake hope and comfort; and they said: "Thy woeful wound, thine anguish, shall be healed, If thou but come with us to Achaea's host— The host that now is sorrowing after thee With all its kings. And no man of them all Was cause of thine affliction, but the Fates, The cruel ones, whom none that walk the earth Escape, but aye they visit hapless men Unseen; and day by day with pitiless hearts Now they afflict men, now again exalt To honour—none knows why; for all the woes And all the joys of men do these devise After their pleasure." Hearkening he sat To Odysseus and to godlike Diomede; And all the hoarded wrath for olden wrongs And all the torturing rage, melted away.

Straight to the strand dull-thundering and the ship, Laughing for joy, they bare him with his bow. There washed they all his body and that foul wound With sponges, and with plenteous water bathed: So was his soul refreshed. Then hasted they And made meat ready for the famished man, And in the galley supped with him. Then came The balmy night, and sleep slid down on them. Till rose the dawn they tarried by the strand Of sea-girt Lemnos, but with dayspring cast The hawsers loose, and heaved the anchor-stones Out of the deep. Athena sent a breeze Blowing behind the galley taper-prowed. They strained the sail with either stern-sheet taut; Seaward they pointed the stout-girdered ship; O'er the broad flood she leapt before the wind; Broken to right and left the dark wave sighed, And seething all around was hoary foam, While thronging dolphins raced on either hand Flashing along the paths of silver sea.

Full soon to fish-fraught Hellespont they came And the far-stretching ships. Glad were the Greeks To see the longed-for faces. Forth the ship With joy they stepped; and Poeas' valiant son On those two heroes leaned thin wasted hands, Who bare him painfully halting to the shore Staying his weight upon their brawny arms. As seems mid mountain-brakes an oak or pine By strength of the woodcutter half hewn through, Which for a little stands on what was left Of the smooth trunk by him who hewed thereat Hard by the roots, that its slow-smouldering wood Might yield him pitch—now like to one in pain It groans, in weakness borne down by the wind, Yet is upstayed upon its leafy boughs Which from the earth bear up its helpless weight; So by pain unendurable bowed down Leaned he on those brave heroes, and was borne Unto the war-host. Men beheld, and all Compassionated that great archer, crushed By anguish of his hurt. But one drew near, Podaleirius, godlike in his power to heal. Swifter than thought he made him whole and sound; For deftly on the wound he spread his salves, Calling on his physician-father's name; And soon the Achaeans shouted all for joy, All praising with one voice Asclepius' son. Lovingly then they bathed him, and with oil Anointed. All his heaviness of cheer And misery vanished by the Immortals' will; And glad at heart were all that looked on him; And from affliction he awoke to joy. Over the bloodless face the flush of health Glowed, and for wretched weakness mighty strength Thrilled through him: goodly and great waxed all his limbs. As when a field of corn revives again Which erst had drooped, by rains of ruining storm Down beaten flat, but by warm summer winds Requickened, o'er the laboured land it smiles, So Philoctetes' erstwhile wasted frame Was all requickened:—in the galley's hold He seemed to have left all cares that crushed his soul.

And Atreus' sons beheld him marvelling As one re-risen from the dead: it seemed The work of hands immortal. And indeed So was it verily, as their hearts divined; For 'twas the glorious Trito-born that shed Stature and grace upon him. Suddenly He seemed as when of old mid Argive men He stood, before calamity struck him down. Then unto wealthy Agamemnon's tent Did all their mightiest men bring Poeas' son, And set him chief in honour at the feast, Extolling him. When all with meat and drink Were filled, spake Agamemnon lord of spears: "Dear friend, since by the will of Heaven our souls Were once perverted, that in sea-girt Lemnos We left thee, harbour not thine heart within Fierce wrath for this: by the blest Gods constrained We did it; and, I trow, the Immortals willed To bring much evil on us, bereft of thee, Who art of all men skilfullest to quell With shafts of death all foes that face thee in fight. For all the tangled paths of human life, By land and sea, are by the will of Fate Hid from our eyes, in many and devious tracks Are cleft apart, in wandering mazes lost. Along them men by Fortune's dooming drift Like unto leaves that drive before the wind. Oft on an evil path the good man's feet Stumble, the brave finds not a prosperous path; And none of earth-born men can shun the Fates, And of his own will none can choose his way. So then doth it behove the wise of heart Though on a troublous track the winds of fate Sweep him away to suffer and be strong. Since we were blinded then, and erred herein, With rich gifts will we make amends to thee Hereafter, when we take the stately towers Of Troy: but now receive thou handmaids seven, Fleet steeds two-score, victors in chariot-race, And tripods twelve, wherein thine heart may joy Through all thy days; and always in my tent Shall royal honour at the feast be thine."

He spake, and gave the hero those fair gifts. Then answered Poeas' mighty-hearted son; "Friend, I forgive thee freely, and all beside Whoso against me haply hath trangressed. I know how good men's minds sometimes be warped: Nor meet it is that one be obdurate Ever, and nurse mean rancours: sternest wrath Must yield anon unto the melting mood. Now pass we to our rest; for better is sleep Than feasting late, for him who longs to fight."

He spake, and rose, and came to his comrades' tent; Then swiftly for their war-fain king they dight The couch, while laughed their hearts for very joy. Gladly he laid him down to sleep till dawn.

So passed the night divine, till flushed the hills In the sun's light, and men awoke to toil. Then all athirst for war the Argive men 'Gan whet the spear smooth-shafted, or the dart, Or javelin, and they brake the bread of dawn, And foddered all their horses. Then to these Spake Poeas' son with battle-kindling speech: "Up! let us make us ready for the war! Let no man linger mid the galleys, ere The glorious walls of Ilium stately-towered Be shattered, and her palaces be burned!"

Then at his words each heart and spirit glowed: They donned their armour, and they grasped their shields. Forth of the ships in one huge mass they poured Arrayed with bull-hide bucklers, ashen spears, And gallant-crested helms. Through all their ranks Shoulder to shoulder marched they: thou hadst seen No gap 'twixt man and man as on they charged; So close they thronged, so dense was their array.



BOOK X

How Paris was stricken to death, and in vain sought help of Oenone.

Now were the Trojans all without the town Of Priam, armour-clad, with battle-cars And chariot-steeds; for still they burnt their dead, And still they feared lest the Achaean men Should fall on them. They looked, and saw them come With furious speed against the walls. In haste They cast a hurried earth-mound o'er the slain, For greatly trembled they to see their foes. Then in their sore disquiet spake to them Polydamas, a wise and prudent chief: "Friends, unendurably against us now Maddens the war. Go to, let us devise How we may find deliverance from our strait. Still bide the Danaans here, still gather strength: Now therefore let us man our stately towers, And thence withstand them, fighting night and day, Until yon Danaans weary, and return To Sparta, or, renownless lingering here Beside the wall, lose heart. No strength of theirs Shall breach the long walls, howsoe'er they strive, For in the imperishable work of Gods Weakness is none. Food, drink, we shall not lack, For in King Priam's gold-abounding halls Is stored abundant food, that shall suffice For many more than we, through many years, Though thrice so great a host at our desire Should gather, eager to maintain our cause."

Then chode with him Anchises' valiant son: "Polydamas, wherefore do they call thee wise, Who biddest suffer endless tribulations Cooped within walls? Never, how long soe'er The Achaeans tarry here, will they lose heart; But when they see us skulking from the field, More fiercely will press on. So ours shall be The sufferance, perishing in our native home, If for long season they beleaguer us. No food, if we be pent within our walls, Shall Thebe send us, nor Maeonia wine, But wretchedly by famine shall we die, Though the great wall stand firm. Nay, though our lot Should be to escape that evil death and doom, And not by famine miserably to die; Yet rather let us fight in armour clad For children and grey fathers! Haply Zeus Will help us yet; of his high blood are we. Nay, even though we be abhorred of him, Better straightway to perish gloriously Fighting unto the last for fatherland, Than die a death of lingering agony!"

Shouted they all who heard that gallant rede. Swiftly with helms and shields and spears they stood In close array. The eyes of mighty Zeus From heaven beheld the Trojans armed for fight Against the Danaans: then did he awake Courage in these and those, that there might be Strain of unflinching fight 'twixt host and host. That day was Paris doomed, for Helen's sake Fighting, by Philoctetes' hands to die.

To one place Strife incarnate drew them all, The fearful Battle-queen, beheld of none, But cloaked in clouds blood-raining: on she stalked Swelling the mighty roar of battle, now Rushed through Troy's squadrons, through Achaea's now; Panic and Fear still waited on her steps To make their father's sister glorious. From small to huge that Fury's stature grew; Her arms of adamant were blood-besprent, The deadly lance she brandished reached the sky. Earth quaked beneath her feet: dread blasts of fire Flamed from her mouth: her voice pealed thunder-like Kindling strong men. Swift closed the fronts of fight Drawn by a dread Power to the mighty work. Loud as the shriek of winds that madly blow In early spring, when the tall woodland trees Put forth their leaves—loud as the roar of fire Blazing through sun-scorched brakes—loud as the voice Of many waters, when the wide sea raves Beneath the howling blast, with thunderous crash Of waves, when shake the fearful shipman's knees; So thundered earth beneath their charging feet. Strife swooped on them: foe hurled himself on foe.

First did Aeneas of the Danaans slay Harpalion, Arizelus' scion, born In far Boeotia of Amphinome, Who came to Troy to help the Argive men With godlike Prothoenor. 'Neath his waist Aeneas stabbed, and reft sweet life from him. Dead upon him he cast Thersander's son, For the barbed javelin pierced through Hyllus' throat Whom Arethusa by Lethaeus bare In Crete: sore grieved Idomeneus for his fall.

By this Peleides' son had swiftly slain Twelve Trojan warriors with his father's spear. First Cebrus fell, Harmon, Pasitheus then, Hysminus, Schedius, and Imbrasius, Phleges, Mnesaeus, Ennomus, Amphinous, Phasis, Galenus last, who had his home

By Gargarus' steep—a mighty warrior he Among Troy's mighties: with a countless host To Troy he came: for Priam Dardanus' son Promised him many gifts and passing fair. Ah fool! his own doom never he foresaw, Whose weird was suddenly to fall in fight Ere he bore home King Priam's glorious gifts.

Doom the Destroyer against the Argives sped Valiant Aeneas' friend, Eurymenes. Wild courage spurred him on, that he might slay Many—and then fill death's cup for himself. Man after man he slew like some fierce beast, And foes shrank from the terrible rage that burned On his life's verge, nor reeked of imminent doom. Yea, peerless deeds in that fight had he done, Had not his hands grown weary, his spear-head Bent utterly: his sword availed him not, Snapped at the hilt by Fate. Then Meges' dart Smote 'neath his ribs; blood spurted from his mouth, And in death's agony Doom stood at his side.

Even as he fell, Epeius' henchmen twain, Deileon and Amphion, rushed to strip His armour; but Aeneas brave and strong Chilled their hot hearts in death beside the dead. As one in latter summer 'mid his vines Kills wasps that dart about his ripening grapes, And so, ere they may taste the fruit, they die; So smote he them, ere they could seize the arms.

Menon and Amphinous Tydeides slew, Both goodly men. Paris slew Hippasus' son Demoleon, who in Laconia's land Beside the outfall of Eurotas dwelt, The stream deep-flowing, and to Troy he came With Menelaus. Under his right breast The shaft of Paris smote him unto death, Driving his soul forth like a scattering breath.

Teucer slew Zechis, Medon's war-famed son, Who dwelt in Phrygia, land of myriad flocks, Below that haunted cave of fair-haired Nymphs Where, as Endymion slept beside his kine, Divine Selene watched him from on high, And slid from heaven to earth; for passionate love Drew down the immortal stainless Queen of Night. And a memorial of her couch abides Still 'neath the oaks; for mid the copses round Was poured out milk of kine; and still do men Marvelling behold its whiteness. Thou wouldst say Far off that this was milk indeed, which is A well-spring of white water: if thou draw A little nigher, lo, the stream is fringed As though with ice, for white stone rims it round.

Rushed on Alcaeus Meges, Phyleus' son, And drave his spear beneath his fluttering heart. Loosed were the cords of sweet life suddenly, And his sad parents longed in vain to greet That son returning from the woeful war To Margasus and Phyllis lovely-girt, Dwellers by lucent streams of Harpasus, Who pours the full blood of his clamorous flow Into Maeander madly rushing aye.

With Glaucus' warrior-comrade Scylaceus Odeus' son closed in the fight, and stabbed Over the shield-rim, and the cruel spear Passed through his shoulder, and drenched his shield with blood. Howbeit he slew him not, whose day of doom Awaited him afar beside the wall Of his own city; for when Illium's towers Were brought low by that swift avenging host Fleeing the war to Lycia then he came Alone; and when he drew nigh to the town, The thronging women met and questioned him Touching their sons and husbands; and he told How all were dead. They compassed him about, And stoned the man with great stones, that he died. So had he no joy of his winning home, But the stones muffled up his dying groans, And of the same his ghastly tomb was reared Beside Bellerophon's grave and holy place In Tlos, nigh that far-famed Chimaera's Crag. Yet, though he thus fulfilled his day of doom, As a God afterward men worshipped him By Phoebus' hest, and never his honour fades.

Now Poeas' son the while slew Deioneus And Acamas, Antenor's warrior son: Yea, a great host of strong men laid he low. On, like the War-god, through his foes he rushed, Or as a river roaring in full flood Breaks down long dykes, when, maddening round its rocks, Down from the mountains swelled by rain it pours An ever-flowing mightily-rushing stream Whose foaming crests over its forelands sweep; So none who saw him even from afar Dared meet renowned Poeas' valiant son, Whose breast with battle-fury was fulfilled, Whose limbs were clad in mighty Hercules' arms Of cunning workmanship; for on the belt Gleamed bears most grim and savage, jackals fell, And panthers, in whose eyes there seems to lurk A deadly smile. There were fierce-hearted wolves, And boars with flashing tusks, and mighty lions All seeming strangely alive; and, there portrayed Through all its breadth, were battles murder-rife. With all these marvels covered was the belt; And with yet more the quiver was adorned. There Hermes was, storm-footed Son of Zeus, Slaying huge Argus nigh to Inachus' streams, Argus, whose sentinel eyes in turn took sleep. And there was Phaethon from the Sun-car hurled Into Eridanus. Earth verily seemed Ablaze, and black smoke hovered on the air. There Perseus slew Medusa gorgon-eyed By the stars' baths and utmost bounds of earth And fountains of deep-flowing Ocean, where Night in the far west meets the setting sun. There was the Titan Iapetus' great son Hung from the beetling crag of Caucasus In bonds of adamant, and the eagle tare His liver unconsumed—he seemed to groan! All these Hephaestus' cunning hands had wrought For Hercules; and these to Poeas' son, Most near of friends and dear, he gave to bear.

So glorying in those arms he smote the foe. But Paris at the last to meet him sprang Fearlessly, bearing in his hands his bow And deadly arrows—but his latest day Now met himself. A flying shaft he sped Forth from the string, which sang as leapt the dart, Which flew not vainly: yet the very mark It missed, for Philoctetes swerved aside A hair-breadth, and it smote above the breast Cleodorus war-renowned, and cleft a path Clear through his shoulder; for he had not now The buckler broad which wont to fence from death Its bearer, but was falling back from fight, Being shieldless; for Polydamas' massy lance Had cleft the shoulder-belt whereby his targe Hung, and he gave back therefore, fighting still With stubborn spear. But now the arrow of death Fell on him, as from ambush leaping forth. For so Fate willed, I trow, to bring dread doom On noble-hearted Lernus' scion, born Of Amphiale, in Rhodes the fertile land.

But soon as Poeas' battle-eager son Marked him by Paris' deadly arrow slain, Swiftly he strained his bow, shouting aloud: "Dog! I will give thee death, will speed thee down To the Unseen Land, who darest to brave me! And so shall they have rest, who travail now For thy vile sake. Destruction shall have end When thou art dead, the author of our bane."

Then to his breast he drew the plaited cord. The great bow arched, the merciless shaft was aimed Straight, and the terrible point a little peered Above the bow, in that constraining grip. Loud sang the string, as the death-hissing shaft Leapt, and missed not: yet was not Paris' heart Stilled, but his spirit yet was strong in him; For that first arrow was not winged with death: It did but graze the fair flesh by his wrist. Then once again the avenger drew the bow, And the barbed shaft of Poeas' son had plunged, Ere he could swerve, 'twixt flank and groin. No more He abode the fight, but swiftly hasted back As hastes a dog which on a lion rushed At first, then fleeth terror-stricken back. So he, his very heart with agony thrilled, Fled from the war. Still clashed the grappling hosts, Man slaying man: aye bloodier waxed the fray As rained the blows: corpse upon corpse was flung Confusedly, like thunder-drops, or flakes Of snow, or hailstones, by the wintry blast At Zeus' behest strewn over the long hills And forest-boughs; so by a pitiless doom Slain, friends with foes in heaps on heaps were strown.

Sorely groaned Paris; with the torturing wound Fainted his spirit. Leeches sought to allay His frenzy of pain. But now drew back to Troy The Trojans, and the Danaans to their ships Swiftly returned, for dark night put an end To strife, and stole from men's limbs weariness, Pouring upon their eyes pain-healing sleep.

But through the livelong night no sleep laid hold On Paris: for his help no leech availed, Though ne'er so willing, with his salves. His weird Was only by Oenone's hands to escape Death's doom, if so she willed. Now he obeyed The prophecy, and he went—exceeding loth, But grim necessity forced him thence, to face The wife forsaken. Evil-boding fowl Shrieked o'er his head, or darted past to left, Still as he went. Now, as he looked at them, His heart sank; now hope whispered, "Haply vain Their bodings are!" but on their wings were borne Visions of doom that blended with his pain. Into Oenone's presence thus he came. Amazed her thronging handmaids looked on him As at the Nymph's feet that pale suppliant fell Faint with the anguish of his wound, whose pangs Stabbed him through brain and heart, yea, quivered through His very bones, for that fierce venom crawled Through all his inwards with corrupting fangs; And his life fainted in him agony-thrilled. As one with sickness and tormenting thirst Consumed, lies parched, with heart quick-shuddering, With liver seething as in flame, the soul, Scarce conscious, fluttering at his burning lips, Longing for life, for water longing sore; So was his breast one fire of torturing pain. Then in exceeding feebleness he spake: "O reverenced wife, turn not from me in hate For that I left thee widowed long ago! Not of my will I did it: the strong Fates Dragged me to Helen—oh that I had died Ere I embraced her—in thine arms had died! All, by the Gods I pray, the Lords of Heaven, By all the memories of our wedded love, Be merciful! Banish my bitter pain: Lay on my deadly wound those healing salves Which only can, by Fate's decree, remove This torment, if thou wilt. Thine heart must speak My sentence, to be saved from death or no. Pity me—oh, make haste to pity me! This venom's might is swiftly bringing death! Heal me, while life yet lingers in my limbs! Remember not those pangs of jealousy, Nor leave me by a cruel doom to die Low fallen at thy feet! This should offend The Prayers, the Daughters of the Thunderer Zeus, Whose anger followeth unrelenting pride With vengeance, and the Erinnys executes Their wrath. My queen, I sinned, in folly sinned; Yet from death save me—oh, make haste to save!"

So prayed he; but her darkly-brooding heart Was steeled, and her words mocked his agony: "Thou comest unto me!—thou, who didst leave Erewhile a wailing wife in a desolate home!— Didst leave her for thy Tyndarid darling! Go, Lie laughing in her arms for bliss! She is better Than thy true wife—is, rumour saith, immortal! Make haste to kneel to her but not to me! Weep not to me, nor whimper pitiful prayers! Oh that mine heart beat with a tigress' strength, That I might tear thy flesh and lap thy blood For all the pain thy folly brought on me! Vile wretch! where now is Love's Queen glory-crowned? Hath Zeus forgotten his daughter's paramour? Have them for thy deliverers! Get thee hence Far from my dwelling, curse of Gods and men! Yea, for through thee, thou miscreant, sorrow came On deathless Gods, for sons and sons' sons slain. Hence from my threshold!—to thine Helen go! Agonize day and night beside her bed: There whimper, pierced to the heart with cruel pangs, Until she heal thee of thy grievous pain."

So from her doors she drave that groaning man— Ah fool! not knowing her own doom, whose weird Was straightway after him to tread the path Of death! So Fate had spun her destiny-thread.

Then, as he stumbled down through Ida's brakes, Where Doom on his death-path was leading him Painfully halting, racked with heart-sick pain, Hera beheld him, with rejoicing soul Throned in the Olympian palace-court of Zeus. And seated at her side were handmaids four Whom radiant-faced Selene bare to the Sun To be unwearying ministers in Heaven, In form and office diverse each from each; For of these Seasons one was summer's queen, And one of winter and his stormy star, Of spring the third, of autumn-tide the fourth. So in four portions parted is man's year Ruled by these Queens in turn—but of all this Be Zeus himself the Overseer in heaven. And of those issues now these spake with her Which baleful Fate in her all-ruining heart Was shaping to the birth the new espousals Of Helen, fatal to Deiphobus— The wrath of Helenus, who hoped in vain For that fair bride, and how, when he had fled, Wroth with the Trojans, to the mountain-height, Achaea's sons would seize him and would hale Unto their ships—how, by his counselling Strong Tydeus' son should with Odysseus scale The great wall, and should slay Alcathous The temple-warder, and should bear away Pallas the Gracious, with her free consent, Whose image was the sure defence of Troy;— Yea, for not even a God, how wroth soe'er, Had power to lay the City of Priam waste While that immortal shape stood warder there. No man had carven that celestial form, But Cronos' Son himself had cast it down From heaven to Priam's gold-abounding burg.

Of these things with her handmaids did the Queen Of Heaven hold converse, and of many such, But Paris, while they talked, gave up the ghost On Ida: never Helen saw him more. Loud wailed the Nymphs around him; for they still Remembered how their nursling wont to lisp His childish prattle, compassed with their smiles. And with them mourned the neatherds light of foot, Sorrowful-hearted; moaned the mountain-glens.

Then unto travail-burdened Priam's queen A herdman told the dread doom of her son. Wildly her trembling heart leapt when she heard; With failing limbs she sank to earth and wailed: "Dead! thou dead, O dear child! Grief heaped on grief Hast thou bequeathed me, grief eternal! Best Of all my sons, save Hector alone, wast thou! While beats my heart, my grief shall weep for thee. The hand of Heaven is in our sufferings: Some Fate devised our ruin—oh that I Had lived not to endure it, but had died In days of wealthy peace! But now I see Woes upon woes, and ever look to see Worse things—my children slain, my city sacked And burned with fire by stony-hearted foes, Daughters, sons' wives, all Trojan women, haled Into captivity with our little ones!"

So wailed she; but the King heard naught thereof, But weeping ever sat by Hector's grave, For most of all his sons he honoured him, His mightiest, the defender of his land. Nothing of Paris knew that pierced heart; But long and loud lamented Helen; yet Those wails were but for Trojan ears; her soul With other thoughts was busy, as she cried: "Husband, to me, to Troy, and to thyself A bitter blow is this thy woeful death! In misery hast thou left me, and I look To see calamities more deadly yet. Oh that the Spirits of the Storm had snatched Me from the earth when first I fared with thee Drawn by a baleful Fate! It might not be; The Gods have meted ruin to thee and me. With shuddering horror all men look on me, All hate me! Place of refuge is there none For me; for if to the Danaan host I fly, With torments will they greet me. If I stay, Troy's sons and daughters here will compass me And rend me. Earth shall cover not my corpse, But dogs and fowl of ravin shall devour. Oh had Fate slain me ere I saw these woes!"

So cried she: but for him far less she mourned Than for herself, remembering her own sin. Yea, and Troy's daughters but in semblance wailed For him: of other woes their hearts were full. Some thought on parents, some on husbands slain, These on their sons, on honoured kinsmen those.

One only heart was pierced with grief unfeigned, Oenone. Not with them of Troy she wailed, But far away within that desolate home Moaning she lay on her lost husband's bed. As when the copses on high mountains stand White-veiled with frozen snow, which o'er the glens The west-wind blasts have strown, but now the sun And east-wind melt it fast, and the long heights With water-courses stream, and down the glades Slide, as they thaw, the heavy sheets, to swell The rushing waters of an ice-cold spring, So melted she in tears of anguished pain, And for her own, her husband, agonised, And cried to her heart with miserable moans: "Woe for my wickedness! O hateful life! I loved mine hapless husband—dreamed with him To pace to eld's bright threshold hand in hand, And heart in heart! The gods ordained not so. Oh had the black Fates snatched me from the earth Ere I from Paris turned away in hate! My living love hath left me!—yet will I Dare to die with him, for I loathe the light."

So cried she, weeping, weeping piteously, Remembering him whom death had swallowed up, Wasting, as melteth wax before the flame Yet secretly, being fearful lest her sire Should mark it, or her handmaids till the night Rose from broad Ocean, flooding all the earth With darkness bringing men release from toil. Then, while her father and her maidens slept, She slid the bolts back of the outer doors, And rushed forth like a storm-blast. Fast she ran, As when a heifer 'mid the mountains speeds, Her heart with passion stung, to meet her mate, And madly races on with flying feet, And fears not, in her frenzy of desire, The herdman, as her wild rush bears her on, So she but find her mate amid the woods; So down the long tracks flew Oenone's feet; Seeking the awful pyre, to leap thereon. No weariness she knew: as upon wings Her feet flew faster ever, onward spurred By fell Fate, and the Cyprian Queen. She feared No shaggy beast that met her in the dark Who erst had feared them sorely—rugged rock And precipice of tangled mountain-slope, She trod them all unstumbling; torrent-beds She leapt. The white Moon-goddess from on high Looked on her, and remembered her own love, Princely Endymion, and she pitied her In that wild race, and, shining overhead In her full brightness, made the long tracks plain.

Through mountain-gorges so she won to where Wailed other Nymphs round Alexander's corpse. Roared up about him a great wall of fire; For from the mountains far and near had come Shepherds, and heaped the death-bale broad and high For love's and sorrow's latest service done To one of old their comrade and their king. Sore weeping stood they round. She raised no wail, The broken-hearted, when she saw him there, But, in her mantle muffling up her face, Leapt on the pyre: loud wailed that multitude. There burned she, clasping Paris. All the Nymphs Marvelled, beholding her beside her lord Flung down, and heart to heart spake whispering: "Verily evil-hearted Paris was, Who left a leal true wife, and took for bride A wanton, to himself and Troy a curse. Ah fool, who recked not of the broken heart Of a most virtuous wife, who more than life Loved him who turned from her and loved her not!"

So in their hearts the Nymphs spake: but they twain Burned on the pyre, never to hail again The dayspring. Wondering herdmen stood around, As once the thronging Argives marvelling saw Evadne clasping mid the fire her lord Capaneus, slain by Zeus' dread thunderbolt. But when the blast of the devouring fire Had made twain one, Oenone and Paris, now One little heap of ashes, then with wine Quenched they the embers, and they laid their bones In a wide golden vase, and round them piled The earth-mound; and they set two pillars there That each from other ever turn away; For the old jealousy in the marble lives.



BOOK XI

How the sons of Troy for the last time fought from her walls and her towers.

Troy's daughters mourned within her walls; might none Go forth to Paris' tomb, for far away From high-built Troy it lay. But the young men Without the city toiled unceasingly In fight wherein from slaughter rest was none, Though dead was Paris; for the Achaeans pressed Hard on the Trojans even unto Troy. Yet these charged forth—they could not choose but so, For Strife and deadly Enyo in their midst Stalked, like the fell Erinyes to behold, Breathing destruction from their lips like flame. Beside them raged the ruthless-hearted Fates Fiercely: here Panic-fear and Ares there Stirred up the hosts: hard after followed Dread With slaughter's gore besprent, that in one host Might men see, and be strong, in the other fear; And all around were javelins, spears, and darts Murder-athirst from this side, that side, showered. Aye, as they hurled together, armour clashed, As foe with foe grappled in murderous fight.

There Neoptolemus slew Laodamas, Whom Lycia nurtured by fair Xanthus' stream, The stream revealed to men by Leto, bride Of Thunderer Zeus, when Lycia's stony plain Was by her hands uptorn mid agonies Of travail-throes wherein she brought to light Mid bitter pangs those babes of birth divine. Nirus upon him laid he dead; the spear Crashed through his jaw, and clear through mouth and tongue Passed: on the lance's irresistible point Shrieking was he impaled: flooded with gore His mouth was as he cried. The cruel shaft, Sped on by that strong hand, dashed him to earth In throes of death. Evenor next he smote Above the flank, and onward drave the spear Into his liver: swiftly anguished death Came upon him. Iphition next he slew: He quelled Hippomedon, Hippasus' bold son, Whom Ocyone the Nymph had borne beside Sangarius' river-flow. Ne'er welcomed she Her son's returning face, but ruthless Fate With anguish thrilled her of her child bereaved.

Bremon Aeneas slew, and Andromachus, Of Cnossus this, of hallowed Lyctus that: On one spot both from their swift chariots fell; This gasped for breath, his throat by the long spear Transfixed; that other, by a massy stone, Sped from a strong hand, on the temple struck, Breathed out his life, and black doom shrouded him. The startled steeds, bereft of charioteers, Fleeing, mid all those corpses were confused, And princely Aeneas' henchmen seized on them With hearts exulting in the goodly spoil.

There Philoctetes with his deadly shaft Smote Peirasus in act to flee the war: The tendons twain behind the knee it snapped, And palsied all his speed. A Danaan marked, And leapt on that maimed man with sweep of sword Shearing his neck through. On the breast of earth The headless body fell: the head far flung Went rolling with lips parted as to shriek; And swiftly fleeted thence the homeless soul.

Polydamas struck down Eurymachus And Cleon with his spear. From Syme came With Nireus' following these: cunning were both In craft of fisher-folk to east the hook Baited with guile, to drop into the sea The net, from the boat's prow with deftest hands Swiftly and straight to plunge the three-forked spear. But not from bane their sea-craft saved them now.

Eurypylus battle-staunch laid Hellus low, Whom Cleito bare beside Gygaea's mere, Cleito the fair-cheeked. Face-down in the dust Outstretched he lay: shorn by the cruel sword From his strong shoulder fell the arm that held His long spear. Still its muscles twitched, as though Fain to uplift the lance for fight in vain; For the man's will no longer stirred therein, But aimlessly it quivered, even as leaps The severed tail of a snake malignant-eyed, Which cannot chase the man who dealt the wound; So the right hand of that strong-hearted man With impotent grip still clutched the spear for fight.

Aenus and Polydorus Odysseus slew, Ceteians both; this perished by his spear, That by his sword death-dealing. Sthenelus Smote godlike Abas with a javelin-cast: On through his throat and shuddering nape it rushed: Stopped were his heart-beats, all his limbs collapsed.

Tydeides slew Laodocus; Melius fell By Agamemnon's hand; Deiphobus Smote Alcimus and Dryas: Hippasus, How war-renowned soe'er, Agenor slew Far from Peneius' river. Crushed by fate, Love's nursing-debt to parents ne'er he paid.

Lamus and stalwart Lyncus Thoas smote, And Meriones slew Lycon; Menelaus Laid low Archelochus. Upon his home Looked down Corycia's ridge, and that great rock Of the wise Fire-god, marvellous in men's eyes; For thereon, nightlong, daylong, unto him Fire blazes, tireless and unquenchable. Laden with fruit around it palm-trees grow, While mid the stones fire plays about their roots. Gods' work is this, a wonder to all time.

By Teucer princely Hippomedon's son was slain, Menoetes: as the archer drew on him, Rushed he to smite him; but already hand And eye, and bow-craft keen were aiming straight On the arching horn the shaft. Swiftly released It leapt on the hapless man, while sang the string. Stricken full front he heaved one choking gasp, Because the fates on the arrow riding flew Right to his heart, the throne of thought and strength For men, whence short the path is unto death.

Far from his brawny hand Euryalus hurled A massy stone, and shook the ranks of Troy. As when in anger against long-screaming cranes A watcher of the field leaps from the ground, In swift hand whirling round his head the sling, And speeds the stone against them, scattering Before its hum their ranks far down the wind Outspread, and they in huddled panic dart With wild cries this way and that, who theretofore Swept on in ordered lines; so shrank the foe To right and left from that dread bolt of doom Hurled of Euryalus. Not in vain it flew Fate-winged; it shattered Meles' helm and head Down to the eyes: so met him ghastly death.

Still man slew man, while earth groaned all around, As when a mighty wind scourges the land, And this way, that way, under its shrieking blasts Through the wide woodland bow from the roots and fall Great trees, while all the earth is thundering round; So fell they in the dust, so clanged their arms, So crashed the earth around. Still hot were they For fell fight, still dealt bane unto their foes.

Nigh to Aeneas then Apollo came, And to Eurymachus, brave Antenor's son; For these against the mighty Achaeans fought Shoulder to shoulder, as two strong oxen, matched In age, yoked to a wain; nor ever ceased From battling. Suddenly spake the God to these In Polymestor's shape, the seer his mother By Xanthus bare to the Far-darter's priest: "Eurymachus, Aeneas, seed of Gods, 'Twere shame if ye should flinch from Argives! Nay, Not Ares' self should joy to encounter you, An ye would face him in the fray; for Fate Hath spun long destiny-threads for thee and thee."

He spake, and vanished, mingling with the winds. But their hearts felt the God's power: suddenly Flooded with boundless courage were their frames, Maddened their spirits: on the foe they leapt Like furious wasps that in a storm of rage Swoop upon bees, beholding them draw nigh In latter-summer to the mellowing grapes, Or from their hives forth-streaming thitherward; So fiercely leapt these sons of Troy to meet War-hardened Greeks. The black Fates joyed to see Their conflict, Ares laughed, Enyo yelled Horribly. Loud their glancing armour clanged: They stabbed, they hewed down hosts of foes untold With irresistible hands. The reeling ranks Fell, as the swath falls in the harvest heat, When the swift-handed reapers, ranged adown The field's long furrows, ply the sickle fast; So fell before their hands ranks numberless: With corpses earth was heaped, with torrent blood Was streaming: Strife incarnate o'er the slain Gloated. They paused not from the awful toil, But aye pressed on, like lions chasing sheep. Then turned the Greeks to craven flight; all feet Unmaimed as yet fled from the murderous war. Aye followed on Anchises' warrior son, Smiting foes' backs with his avenging spear: On pressed Eurymachus, while glowed the heart Of Healer Apollo watching from on high.

As when a man descries a herd of swine Draw nigh his ripening corn, before the sheaves Fall neath the reapers' hands, and harketh on Against them his strong dogs; as down they rush, The spoilers see and quake; no more think they Of feasting, but they turn in panic flight Huddling: fast follow at their heels the hounds Biting remorselessly, while long and loud Squealing they flee, and joys the harvest's lord; So rejoiced Phoebus, seeing from the war Fleeing the mighty Argive host. No more Cared they for deeds of men, but cried to the Gods For swift feet, in whose feet alone was hope To escape Eurymachus' and Aeneas' spears Which lightened ever all along their rear.

But one Greek, over-trusting in his strength, Or by Fate's malice to destruction drawn, Curbed in mid flight from war's turmoil his steed, And strove to wheel him round into the fight To face the foe. But fierce Agenor thrust Ere he was ware; his two-edged partizan Shore though his shoulder; yea, the very bone Of that gashed arm was cloven by the steel; The tendons parted, the veins spirted blood: Down by his horse's neck he slid, and straight Fell mid the dead. But still the strong arm hung With rigid fingers locked about the reins Like a live man's. Weird marvel was that sight, The bloody hand down hanging from the rein, Scaring the foes yet more, by Ares' will. Thou hadst said, "It craveth still for horsemanship!" So bare the steed that sign of his slain lord.

Aeneas hurled his spear; it found the waist Of Anthalus' son, it pierced the navel through, Dragging the inwards with it. Stretched in dust, Clutching with agonized hands at steel and bowels, Horribly shrieked he, tore with his teeth the earth Groaning, till life and pain forsook the man. Scared were the Argives, like a startled team Of oxen 'neath the yoke-band straining hard, What time the sharp-fanged gadfly stings their flanks Athirst for blood, and they in frenzy of pain Start from the furrow, and sore disquieted The hind is for marred work, and for their sake, Lest haply the recoiling ploughshare light On their leg-sinews, and hamstring his team; So were the Danaans scared, so feared for them Achilles' son, and shouted thunder-voiced: "Cravens, why flee, like starlings nothing-worth Scared by a hawk that swoopeth down on them? Come, play the men! Better it is by far To die in war than choose unmanly flight!"

Then to his cry they hearkened, and straightway Were of good heart. Mighty of mood he leapt Upon the Trojans, swinging in his hand The lightening spear: swept after him his host Of Myrmidons with hearts swelled with the strength Resistless of a tempest; so the Greeks Won breathing-space. With fury like his sire's One after other slew he of the foe. Recoiling back they fell, as waves on-rolled By Boreas foaming from the deep to the strand, Are caught by another blast that whirlwind-like Leaps, in a short lull of the north-wind, forth, Smites them full-face, and hurls them back from the shore; So them that erewhile on the Danaans pressed Godlike Achilles' son now backward hurled A short space only brave Aeneas' spirit Let him not flee, but made him bide the fight Fearlessly; and Enyo level held The battle's scales. Yet not against Aeneas Achilles' son upraised his father's spear, But elsewhither turned his fury: in reverence For Aphrodite, Thetis splendour-veiled Turned from that man her mighty son's son's rage And giant strength on other hosts of foes. There slew he many a Trojan, while the ranks Of Greeks were ravaged by Aeneas' hand. Over the battle-slain the vultures joyed, Hungry to rend the hearts and flesh of men. But all the Nymphs were wailing, daughters born Of Xanthus and fair-flowing Simois.

So toiled they in the fight: the wind's breath rolled Huge dust-clouds up; the illimitable air Was one thick haze, as with a sudden mist: Earth disappeared, faces were blotted out; Yet still they fought on; each man, whomso he met, Ruthlessly slew him, though his very friend It might be—in that turmoil none could tell Who met him, friend or foe: blind wilderment Enmeshed the hosts. And now had all been blent Confusedly, had perished miserably, All falling by their fellows' murderous swords, Had not Cronion from Olympus helped Their sore strait, and he swept aside the dust Of conflict, and he calmed those deadly winds. Yet still the hosts fought on; but lighter far Their battle-travail was, who now discerned Whom in the fray to smite, and whom to spare. The Danaans now forced back the Trojan host, The Trojans now the Danaan ranks, as swayed The dread fight to and fro. From either side Darts leapt and fell like snowflakes. Far away Shepherds from Ida trembling watched the strife, And to the Heaven-abiders lifted hands Of supplication, praying that all their foes Might perish, and that from the woeful war Troy might win breathing-space, and see at last The day of freedom: the Gods hearkened not. Far other issues Fate devised, nor recked Of Zeus the Almighty, nor of none beside Of the Immortals. Her unpitying soul Cares naught what doom she spinneth with her thread Inevitable, be it for men new-born Or cities: all things wax and wane through her. So by her hest the battle-travail swelled 'Twixt Trojan chariot-lords and Greeks that closed In grapple of fight—they dealt each other death Ruthlessly: no man quailed, but stout of heart Fought on; for courage thrusts men into war.

But now when many had perished in the dust, Then did the Argive might prevail at last By stern decree of Pallas; for she came Into the heart of battle, hot to help The Greeks to lay waste Priam's glorious town. Then Aphrodite, who lamented sore For Paris slain, snatched suddenly away Renowned Aeneas from the deadly strife, And poured thick mist about him. Fate forbade That hero any longer to contend With Argive foes without the high-built wall. Yea, and his mother sorely feared the wrath Of Pallas passing-wise, whose heart was keen To help the Danaans now—yea, feared lest she Might slay him even beyond his doom, who spared Not Ares' self, a mightier far than he.

No more the Trojans now abode the edge Of fight, but all disheartened backward drew. For like fierce ravening beasts the Argive men Leapt on them, mad with murderous rage of war. Choked with their slain the river-channels were, Heaped was the field; in red dust thousands fell, Horses and men; and chariots overturned Were strewn there: blood was streaming all around Like rain, for deadly Doom raged through the fray.

Men stabbed with swords, and men impaled on spears Lay all confusedly, like scattered beams, When on the strand of the low-thundering sea Men from great girders of a tall ship's hull Strike out the bolts and clamps, and scatter wide Long planks and timbers, till the whole broad beach Is paved with beams o'erplashed by darkling surge; So lay in dust and blood those slaughtered men, Rapture and pain of fight forgotten now.

A remnant from the pitiless strife escaped Entered their stronghold, scarce eluding doom. Children and wives from their limbs blood-besprent Received their arms bedabbled with foul gore; And baths for all were heated. Leeches ran Through all the town in hot haste to the homes Of wounded men to minister to their hurts. Here wives and daughters moaned round men come back From war, there cried on many who came not Here, men stung to the soul by bitter pangs Groaned upon beds of pain; there, toil-spent men Turned them to supper. Whinnied the swift steeds And neighed o'er mangers heaped. By tent and ship Far off the Greeks did even as they of Troy.

When o'er the streams of Ocean Dawn drove up Her splendour-flashing steeds, and earth's tribes waked, Then the strong Argives' battle-eager sons Marched against Priam's city lofty-towered, Save some that mid the tents by wounded men Tarried, lest haply raiders on the ships Might fall, to help the Trojans, while these fought The foe from towers, while rose the flame of war.

Before the Scaean gate fought Capaneus' son And godlike Diomedes. High above Deiphobus battle-staunch and strong Polites With many comrades, stoutly held them back With arrows and huge stones. Clanged evermore The smitten helms and shields that fenced strong men From bitter doom and unrelenting fate,

Before the Gate Idaean Achilles' son Set in array the fight: around him toiled His host of battle-cunning Myrmidons. Helenus and Agenor gallant-souled, Down-hailing darts, against them held the wall, Aye cheering on their men. No spurring these Needed to fight hard for their country's walls.

Odysseus and Eurypylus made assault Unresting on the gates that fated the plain And looked to the swift ships. From wall and tower With huge stones brave Aeneas made defence.

In battle-stress by Simons Teucer toiled. Each endured hardness at his several post.

Then round war-wise Odysseus men renowned, By that great captain's battle cunning ruled, Locked shields together, raised them o'er their heads Ranged side by side, that many were made one. Thou hadst said it was a great hall's solid roof, Which no tempestuous wind-blast misty wet Can pierce, nor rain from heaven in torrents poured. So fenced about with shields firm stood the ranks Of Argives, one in heart for fight, and one In that array close-welded. From above The Trojans hailed great stones; as from a rock Rolled these to earth. Full many a spear and dart And galling javelin in the pierced shields stood; Some in the earth stood; many glanced away With bent points falling baffled from the shields Battered on all sides. But that clangorous din None feared; none flinched; as pattering drops of rain They heard it. Up to the rampart's foot they marched: None hung back; shoulder to shoulder on they came Like a long lurid cloud that o'er the sky Cronion trails in wild midwinter-tide. On that battalion moved, with thunderous tread Of tramping feet: a little above the earth Rose up the dust; the breeze swept it aside Drifting away behind the men. There went A sound confused of voices with them, like The hum of bees that murmur round the hives, And multitudinous panting, and the gasp Of men hard-breathing. Exceeding glad the sons Of Atreus, glorying in them, saw that wall Unwavering of doom-denouncing war. In one dense mass against the city-gate They hurled themselves, with twibills strove to breach The long walls, from their hinges to upheave The gates, and dash to earth. The pulse of hope Beat strong in those proud hearts. But naught availed Targes nor levers, when Aeneas' might Swung in his hands a stone like a thunderbolt, Hurled it with uttermost strength, and dashed to death All whom it caught beneath the shields, as when A mountain's precipice-edge breaks off and falls On pasturing goats, and all that graze thereby Tremble; so were those Danaans dazed with dread. Stone after stone he hurled on the reeling ranks, As when amid the hills Olympian Zeus With thunderbolts and blazing lightnings rends From their foundations crags that rim a peak, And this way, that way, sends them hurtling down; Then the flocks tremble, scattering in wild flight; So quailed the Achaeans, when Aeneas dashed To sudden fragments all that battle-wall Moulded of adamant shields, because a God Gave more than human strength. No man of them Could lift his eyes unto him in that fight, Because the arms that lapped his sinewy limbs Flashed like the heaven-born lightnings. At his side Stood, all his form divine in darkness cloaked, Ares the terrible, and winged the flight Of what bare down to the Argives doom or dread. He fought as when Olympian Zeus himself From heaven in wrath smote down the insolent bands Of giants grim, and shook the boundless earth, And sea, and ocean, and the heavens, when reeled The knees of Atlas neath the rush of Zeus. So crumbled down beneath Aeneas' bolts The Argive squadrons. All along the wall Wroth with the foeman rushed he: from his hands Whatso he lighted on in onslaught-haste Hurled he; for many a battle-staying bolt Lay on the walls of those staunch Dardan men. With such Aeneas stormed in giant might, With such drave back the thronging foes. All round The Trojans played the men. Sore travail and pain Had all folk round the city: many fell, Argives and Trojans. Rang the battle-cries: Aeneas cheered the war-fain Trojans on To fight for home, for wives, and their own souls With a good heart: war-staunch Achilles' son Shouted: "Flinch not, ye Argives, from the walls, Till Troy be taken, and sink down in flames!" And round these twain an awful measureless roar Rang, daylong as they fought: no breathing-space Came from the war to them whose spirits burned, These, to smite Ilium, those, to guard her safe.

But from Aeneas valiant-souled afar Fought Aias, speeding midst the men of Troy Winged death; for now his arrow straight through air Flew, now his deadly dart, and smote them down One after one: yet others cowered away Before his peerless prowess, and abode The fight no more, but fenceless left the wall

Then one, of all the Locrians mightiest, Fierce-souled Alcimedon, trusting in his prince And his own might and valour of his youth, All battle-eager on a ladder set Swift feet, to pave for friends a death-strewn path Into the town. Above his head he raised

The screening shield; up that dread path he went Hardening his heart from trembling, in his hand Now shook the threatening spear, now upward climbed Fast high in air he trod the perilous way. Now on the Trojans had disaster come, But, even as above the parapet His head rose, and for the first time and the last From her high rampart he looked down on Troy, Aeneas, who had marked, albeit afar, That bold assault, rushed on him, dashed on his head So huge a stone that the hero's mighty strength Shattered the ladder. Down from on high he rushed As arrow from the string: death followed him As whirling round he fell; with air was blent His lost life, ere he crashed to the stony ground. Strong spear, broad shield, in mid fall flew from his hands, And from his head the helm: his corslet came Alone with him to earth. The Locrian men Groaned, seeing their champion quelled by evil doom; For all his hair and all the stones around Were brain-bespattered: all his bones were crushed, And his once active limbs besprent with gore.

Then godlike Poeas' war-triumphant son Marked where Aeneas stormed along the wall In lion-like strength, and straightway shot a shaft Aimed at that glorious hero, neither missed The man: yet not through his unyielding targe To the fair flesh it won, being turned aside By Cytherea and the shield, but grazed The buckler lightly: yet not all in vain Fell earthward, but between the targe and helm Smote Medon: from the tower he fell, as falls A wild goat from a crag, the hunter's shaft Deep in its heart: so nerveless-flung he fell, And fled away from him the precious life. Wroth for his friend, a stone Aeneas hurled, And Philoctetes' stalwart comrade slew, Toxaechmes; for he shattered his head and crushed Helmet and skull-bones; and his noble heart Was stilled. Loud shouted princely Poeas' son: "Aeneas, thou, forsooth, dost deem thyself A mighty champion, fighting from a tower Whence craven women war with foes! Now if Thou be a man, come forth without the wall In battle-harness, and so learn to know In spear-craft and in bow-craft Poeas' son!"

So cried he; but Anchises' valiant seed, How fain soe'er, naught answered, for the stress Of desperate conflict round that wall and burg Ceaselessly raging: pause from fight was none: Yea, for long time no respite had there been For the war-weary from that endless toil.



BOOK XII

How the Wooden Horse was fashioned, and brought into Troy by her people.

When round the walls of Troy the Danaan host Had borne much travail, and yet the end was not, By Calchas then assembled were the chiefs; For his heart was instructed by the hests Of Phoebus, by the flights of birds, the stars, And all the signs that speak to men the will Of Heaven; so he to that assembly cried: "No longer toil in leaguer of yon walls; Some other counsel let your hearts devise, Some stratagem to help the host and us. For here but yesterday I saw a sign: A falcon chased a dove, and she, hard pressed, Entered a cleft of the rock; and chafing he Tarried long time hard by that rift, but she Abode in covert. Nursing still his wrath, He hid him in a bush. Forth darted she, In folly deeming him afar: he swooped, And to the hapless dove dealt wretched death. Therefore by force essay we not to smite Troy, but let cunning stratagem avail."

He spake; but no man's wit might find a way To escape their grievous travail, as they sought To find a remedy, till Laertes' son Discerned it of his wisdom, and he spake: "Friend, in high honour held of the Heavenly Ones, If doomed it be indeed that Priam's burg By guile must fall before the war-worn Greeks, A great Horse let us fashion, in the which Our mightiest shall take ambush. Let the host Burn all their tents, and sail from hence away To Tenedos; so the Trojans, from their towers Gazing, shall stream forth fearless to the plain. Let some brave man, unknown of any in Troy, With a stout heart abide without the Horse, Crouching beneath its shadow, who shall say: "'Achaea's lords of might, exceeding fain Safe to win home, made this their offering For safe return, an image to appease The wrath of Pallas for her image stolen From Troy.' And to this story shall he stand, How long soe'er they question him, until, Though never so relentless, they believe, And drag it, their own doom, within the town. Then shall war's signal unto us be given— To them at sea, by sudden flash of torch, To the ambush, by the cry, 'Come forth the Horse!' When unsuspecting sleep the sons of Troy."

He spake, and all men praised him: most of all Extolled him Calchas, that such marvellous guile He put into the Achaeans' hearts, to be For them assurance of triumph, but for Troy Ruin; and to those battle-lords he cried: "Let your hearts seek none other stratagem, Friends; to war-strong Odysseus' rede give ear. His wise thought shall not miss accomplishment. Yea, our desire even now the Gods fulfil. Hark! for new tokens come from the Unseen! Lo, there on high crash through the firmament Zeus' thunder and lightning! See, where birds to right Dart past, and scream with long-resounding cry! Go to, no more in endless leaguer of Troy Linger we. Hard necessity fills the foe With desperate courage that makes cowards brave; For then are men most dangerous, when they stake Their lives in utter recklessness of death, As battle now the aweless sons of Troy All round their burg, mad with the lust of fight."

But cried Achilles' battle-eager son: "Calchas, brave men meet face to face their foes! Who skulk behind their walls, and fight from towers, Are nidderings, hearts palsied with base fear. Hence with all thought of wile and stratagem! The great war-travail of the spear beseems True heroes. Best in battle are the brave."

But answer made to him Laertes' seed: "Bold-hearted child of aweless Aeacus' son, This as beseems a hero princely and brave, Dauntlessly trusting in thy strength, thou say'st. Yet thine invincible sire's unquailing might Availed not to smite Priam's wealthy burg, Nor we, for all our travail. Nay, with speed, As counselleth Calchas, go we to the ships, And fashion we the Horse by Epeius' hands, Who in the woodwright's craft is chiefest far Of Argives, for Athena taught his lore."

Then all their mightiest men gave ear to him Save twain, fierce-hearted Neoptolemus And Philoctetes mighty-souled; for these Still were insatiate for the bitter fray, Still longed for turmoil of the fight. They bade Their own folk bear against that giant wall What things soe'er for war's assaults avail, In hope to lay that stately fortress low, Seeing Heaven's decrees had brought them both to war. Yea, they had haply accomplished all their will, But from the sky Zeus showed his wrath; he shook The earth beneath their feet, and all the air Shuddered, as down before those heroes twain He hurled his thunderbolt: wide echoes crashed Through all Dardania. Unto fear straightway Turned were their bold hearts: they forgat their might, And Calchas' counsels grudgingly obeyed. So with the Argives came they to the ships In reverence for the seer who spake from Zeus Or Phoebus, and they obeyed him utterly.

What time round splendour-kindled heavens the stars From east to west far-flashing wheel, and when Man doth forget his toil, in that still hour Athena left the high mansions of the Blest, Clothed her in shape of a maiden tender-fleshed, And came to ships and host. Over the head Of brave Epeius stood she in his dream, And bade him build a Horse of tree: herself Would labour in his labour, and herself Stand by his side, to the work enkindling him. Hearing the Goddess' word, with a glad laugh Leapt he from careless sleep: right well he knew The Immortal One celestial. Now his heart Could hold no thought beside; his mind was fixed Upon the wondrous work, and through his soul Marched marshalled each device of craftsmanship.

When rose the dawn, and thrust back kindly night To Erebus, and through the firmament streamed Glad glory, then Epeius told his dream To eager Argives—all he saw and heard; And hearkening joyed they with exceeding joy. Straightway to tall-tressed Ida's leafy glades The sons of Atreus sent swift messengers. These laid the axe unto the forest-pines, And hewed the great trees: to their smiting rang The echoing glens. On those far-stretching hills All bare of undergrowth the high peaks rose: Open their glades were, not, as in time past, Haunted of beasts: there dry the tree-trunks rose Wooing the winds. Even these the Achaeans hewed With axes, and in haste they bare them down From those shagged mountain heights to Hellespont's shores. Strained with a strenuous spirit at the work Young men and mules; and all the people toiled Each at his task obeying Epeius's hest. For with the keen steel some were hewing beams, Some measuring planks, and some with axes lopped Branches away from trunks as yet unsawn: Each wrought his several work. Epeius first Fashioned the feet of that great Horse of Wood: The belly next he shaped, and over this Moulded the back and the great loins behind, The throat in front, and ridged the towering neck With waving mane: the crested head he wrought, The streaming tail, the ears, the lucent eyes— All that of lifelike horses have. So grew Like a live thing that more than human work, For a God gave to a man that wondrous craft. And in three days, by Pallas's decree, Finished was all. Rejoiced thereat the host Of Argos, marvelling how the wood expressed Mettle, and speed of foot—yea, seemed to neigh. Godlike Epeius then uplifted hands To Pallas, and for that huge Horse he prayed: "Hear, great-souled Goddess: bless thine Horse and me!" He spake: Athena rich in counsel heard, And made his work a marvel to all men Which saw, or heard its fame in days to be.

But while the Danaans o'er Epeius' work Joyed, and their routed foes within the walls Tarried, and shrank from death and pitiless doom, Then, when imperious Zeus far from the Gods Had gone to Ocean's streams and Tethys' caves, Strife rose between the Immortals: heart with heart Was set at variance. Riding on the blasts Of winds, from heaven to earth they swooped: the air Crashed round them. Lighting down by Xanthus' stream Arrayed they stood against each other, these For the Achaeans, for the Trojans those; And all their souls were thrilled with lust of war: There gathered too the Lords of the wide Sea. These in their wrath were eager to destroy The Horse of Guile and all the ships, and those Fair Ilium. But all-contriving Fate Held them therefrom, and turned their hearts to strife Against each other. Ares to the fray Rose first, and on Athena rushed. Thereat Fell each on other: clashed around their limbs The golden arms celestial as they charged. Round them the wide sea thundered, the dark earth Quaked 'neath immortal feet. Rang from them all Far-pealing battle-shouts; that awful cry Rolled up to the broad-arching heaven, and down Even to Hades' fathomless abyss: Trembled the Titans there in depths of gloom. Ida's long ridges sighed, sobbed clamorous streams Of ever-flowing rivers, groaned ravines Far-furrowed, Argive ships, and Priam's towers. Yet men feared not, for naught they knew of all That strife, by Heaven's decree. Then her high peaks The Gods' hands wrenched from Ida's crest, and hurled Against each other: but like crumbling sands Shivered they fell round those invincible limbs, Shattered to small dust. But the mind of Zeus, At the utmost verge of earth, was ware of all: Straight left he Ocean's stream, and to wide heaven Ascended, charioted upon the winds, The East, the North, the West-wind, and the South: For Iris rainbow-plumed led 'neath the yoke Of his eternal ear that stormy team, The ear which Time the immortal framed for him Of adamant with never-wearying hands. So came he to Olympus' giant ridge. His wrath shook all the firmament, as crashed From east to west his thunders; lightnings gleamed, As thick and fast his thunderbolts poured to earth, And flamed the limitless welkin. Terror fell Upon the hearts of those Immortals: quaked The limbs of all—ay, deathless though they were! Then Themis, trembling for them, swift as thought Leapt down through clouds, and came with speed to them— For in the strife she only had no part And stood between the fighters, and she cried: "Forbear the conflict! O, when Zeus is wroth, It ill beseems that everlasting Gods Should fight for men's sake, creatures of a day: Else shall ye be all suddenly destroyed; For Zeus will tear up all the hills, and hurl Upon you: sons nor daughters will he spare, But bury 'neath one ruin of shattered earth All. No escape shall ye find thence to light, In horror of darkness prisoned evermore."

Dreading Zeus' menace gave they heed to her, From strife refrained, and cast away their wrath, And were made one in peace and amity. Some heavenward soared, some plunged into the sea, On earth stayed some. Amid the Achaean host Spake in his subtlety Laertes' son: "O valorous-hearted lords of the Argive host, Now prove in time of need what men ye be, How passing-strong, how flawless-brave! The hour Is this for desperate emprise: now, with hearts Heroic, enter ye yon carven horse, So to attain the goal of this stern war. For better it is by stratagem and craft Now to destroy this city, for whose sake Hither we came, and still are suffering Many afflictions far from our own land. Come then, and let your hearts be stout and strong For he who in stress of fight hath turned to bay And snatched a desperate courage from despair, Oft, though the weaker, slays a mightier foe. For courage, which is all men's glory, makes The heart great. Come then, set the ambush, ye Which be our mightiest, and the rest shall go To Tenedos' hallowed burg, and there abide Until our foes have haled within their walls Us with the Horse, as deeming that they bring A gift unto Tritonis. Some brave man, One whom the Trojans know not, yet we lack, To harden his heart as steel, and to abide Near by the Horse. Let that man bear in mind Heedfully whatsoe'er I said erewhile. And let none other thought be in his heart, Lest to the foe our counsel be revealed."