Homer · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
The shouting did not escape Nestor, though he sat there drinking. He turned to Asclepius's son and spoke winged words: "Think, noble Machaon, what is to be done. The cry of strong young men grows louder by the ships. Sit here a while longer and drink your dark wine, until lovely-haired Hecamede warms a bath and washes the clotted blood from your wound. I will go out myself and see what is happening."
So he spoke, and took up the well-made shield of his son, the shield that lay in the tent of Thrasymedes, breaker of horses, gleaming with bronze — for Thrasymedes carried his father's shield instead. Nestor took a strong spear tipped with sharp bronze and went out from the tent. At once he saw a shameful sight: the Achaeans driven back in confusion, the proud Trojans pressing after them, and the wall of the Achaeans broken down.
As when the great sea swells with a soundless heaving wave, sensing the swift paths of shrieking winds still to come, and does not yet roll forward one way or the other until some clear gust falls from Zeus to decide it — so the old man's heart was torn as he weighed two courses:
whether to go among the horse-driving Danaans, or to seek out Agamemnon son of Atreus, shepherd of the people. And as he turned it over, this seemed to him the better plan — to go to the son of Atreus. Meanwhile the armies kept cutting each other down as they fought; the tireless bronze rang around their bodies as they stabbed with swords and double-edged spears.
Nestor met the god-nurtured kings coming up from the ships, all those who had been struck by bronze — Diomedes, Odysseus, and Agamemnon son of Atreus. Their ships had been hauled up far from the battle,
drawn onto the shore of the grey sea, for these were the first ships brought in, and the wall had been built in front of their sterns. Even though the beach was wide, it could not hold all the ships, and the men were crowded, so they had drawn the ships up in rows, filling the whole long mouth of the shore between the two headlands that closed it in. So the three kings came together, leaning on their spears to look at the fighting, their hearts grieving within their chests. Old Nestor met them, and the spirit of the Achaeans shrank within them at the sight,
and lord Agamemnon spoke to him and said: "Nestor, son of Neleus, great glory of the Achaeans, why have you left the man-killing battle to come here? I fear that violent Hector will make good the threat he once shouted before the Trojan assembly — that he would not return from the ships to Ilion until he had burned the ships with fire and killed us all. That is what he said, and now it is all coming true. I ask you — do the other well-greaved Achaeans, like Achilles, hold anger against me in their hearts,
and refuse to fight for the ships' sterns?" Then Gerenian Nestor, driver of horses, answered him: "These things have already come to pass; even Zeus who thunders on high could not now build it otherwise. The wall has fallen — the wall we trusted would be an unbreakable shelter for our ships and for ourselves. The Trojans now hold an unrelenting battle at the swift ships, and you could no longer tell, however hard you looked,
from which side the Achaeans are being driven in confusion — they are being killed all mixed together, and the shouting reaches the sky.
Let us think how these things are to end, if any plan will help — though I do not urge us to go down into the fighting ourselves, for a wounded man has no business in battle." Then Agamemnon, lord of men, answered him again: "Nestor, since they are fighting now at the sterns of the ships, and the wall we built did not help, nor the ditch either, over which the Danaans suffered so much, trusting in their hearts
that it would be an unbreakable shelter for the ships and for us — it seems this must be the will of overmastering Zeus, that the Achaeans should perish here, nameless, far from Argos.
I knew it well when he was willing to defend the Danaans, and I know it now, when he lifts the Trojans up to the level of the blessed gods, while he has bound our strength and our hands. Come then, let us all do as I say. Let us drag down to the sea all the ships drawn up nearest the water, all of them, and launch them onto the bright sea, and moor them out on their anchor-stones until the immortal night comes — if even then the Trojans will hold back from battle. Then we might drag down the rest of the ships as well. There is no shame in fleeing ruin, not even by night —
better a man run from harm than be caught by it."
Then resourceful Odysseus looked at him darkly and said: "Son of Atreus, what is this word that has slipped past the fence of your teeth? Ruinous man — I wish you commanded some other, worthless army instead of ruling over us, we to whom Zeus has given it, from youth to old age, to wind out hard wars to their end, until each of us dies. Is this truly how you mean to abandon the wide streets of Troy, for which we have suffered so much misery? Be silent, in case some other Achaean hears
this thing you have said — a word no man should ever let pass his lips, no man who knows how to speak sound sense in his heart and who carries the scepter, whom peoples as many as you rule among the Argives obey. Now I find fault with your whole way of thinking, for what you have just said — you who tell us, with the battle raging and the fighting still fierce, to drag our well-benched ships down to the sea, so that the Trojans should have even more of what they already wish for, victorious as they already are, while sheer destruction tips down upon us. For the Achaeans will not hold the battle line while the ships are being dragged to sea,
but will keep glancing about instead, and will give up the fight. That is when your counsel will destroy us, lord of men." Then Agamemnon, lord of men, answered him: "Odysseus, you have struck me hard with this harsh rebuke. And yet I was not commanding the sons of the Achaeans to drag their well-benched ships to sea against their will. Now let someone come forward with a better plan than this one, young or old — I would welcome it gladly." Then Diomedes, good at the war cry, spoke among them: "That man is near — we will not have to search long, if only you are willing
to listen, and none of you resent it out of anger because I am the youngest born among you. I too claim to be born of a noble father, Tydeus, whom the heaped earth now covers at Thebes. Portheus had three sons without blame, and they lived in Pleuron and steep Calydon —
Agrios, and Melas, and the third, horseman Oeneus, my father's father, and he was foremost of them all in courage. He stayed there, but my father settled in Argos, having wandered — for so Zeus and the other gods willed it, it seems.
He married one of Adrastus's daughters, and he lived in a house rich with substance, with plenty of wheat-bearing fields around it and many rows of orchard trees, and he had many flocks besides, and he surpassed all the Achaeans with the spear — you must have heard this, if it is true. So you cannot call my birth base or cowardly and dismiss the word I speak plainly and well. Come, let us go down to the fighting, wounded as we are, since we must. Once there, let us keep ourselves out of the range of missiles, so that no one adds a new wound to a wound already taken,
but let us drive the others on, those who up to now have been giving in to their own comfort and standing apart, not fighting." So he spoke, and they listened closely and obeyed him. They set off, and Agamemnon, lord of men, led the way.
Nor did the famous shaker of the earth keep a blind watch. He came among them in the likeness of an old man, took the right hand of Agamemnon son of Atreus, and spoke to him with winged words: "Son of Atreus, now surely the deadly heart of Achilles
rejoices in his chest at the sight of the Achaeans in slaughter and flight, since there is not the least sense in him. But let him perish as he is, let a god bring him to nothing! As for you, the blessed gods are not yet altogether angry with you — no, the leaders and rulers of the Trojans will yet raise the dust wide across the plain, and you yourself will watch them fleeing toward the city, away from the ships and the huts."
So saying, he gave a great shout and rushed across the plain. Loud as the cry of nine thousand men, or ten thousand, raised together in the strife of war — so mighty was the shout the lord who shakes the earth
sent up from his chest, and he cast great strength into the heart of every Achaean, to fight without ceasing and without rest.
Golden-throned Hera, standing on a peak of Olympus, saw with her own eyes her own brother and her husband's brother busy in the battle where men win glory, and her heart rejoiced. But then she saw Zeus sitting on the highest peak of Ida of the many springs, and he was hateful to her heart. And ox-eyed lady Hera pondered
how she might deceive the mind of aegis-bearing Zeus.
And this seemed to her, turning it over in her heart, the best plan: to go to Ida, having adorned herself well, in hope that Zeus might long to lie beside her in love, to cover her body, and that she might then pour a warm and gentle sleep over his eyelids and his cunning mind. So she went to her chamber, which her own son Hephaestus had built for her, with close-fitting doors set into their posts
and a secret bolt that no other god could open. There she went in and closed the shining doors behind her. First, with ambrosia she wiped every trace
of dirt from her lovely body, then anointed herself richly with oil, ambrosial, sweet, the same oil that was kept perfumed for her alone; when it was merely stirred within the bronze-floored house of Zeus, its fragrance reached all the way to earth and sky. With this she anointed her beautiful skin, and combed her hair, and with her own hands braided her shining locks,
lovely and immortal, falling from her deathless head. Then she put on an ambrosial robe that Athena had worked and finished for her, smoothing it and setting many fine designs into it, and she pinned it across her breast with golden clasps.
She girded herself with a belt fitted with a hundred tassels, and hung from her pierced ears earrings with three drops each, like mulberries, catching the light with a rich glow. Then the shining goddess covered her head with a veil,
a beautiful veil, newly made, white as the sun, and under her smooth feet she bound fair sandals. When she had put on all this adornment over her body, she went out from her chamber, and calling Aphrodite apart from the other gods, she spoke to her: "Will you do something for me now, dear child, whatever I ask,
or will you refuse me, angry in your heart because I favor the Danaans while you favor the Trojans?" Then Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, answered her: "Hera, honored goddess, daughter of great Cronus, say what is on your mind — my heart bids me carry it out, if I am able to carry it out, and if it can be done at all." Then, with cunning in her heart, lady Hera said to her: "Give me now the desire and longing with which you master
all the immortals and mortal men alike. For I am going to visit the ends of the fruitful earth,
and Ocean, forefather of the gods, and mother Tethys, who raised me kindly in their own house and cared for me, having taken me from Rhea, when far-seeing Zeus thrust Cronus down beneath the earth and the barren sea. I am going to visit them, and I will settle their bitter quarrel between them; for it is a long time now since they have kept apart from each other's bed and love, ever since anger fell upon their hearts. If I could persuade their dear hearts with words and bring them back together in bed, in love, I would be called dear to them, and honored, forever."
Then laughter-loving Aphrodite answered her again: "There is no way, nor is it right, to refuse what you ask, since you sleep in the arms of Zeus, greatest of all." And with that, she loosed from her breast the embroidered girdle, into which every kind of enchantment had been woven: in it was love, and longing, and the whisper of lovers,
seduction, which steals away the wits even of the wise. This she placed in Hera's hands and spoke, calling her by name: "Here, take this girdle now and hide it in your bosom, this embroidered girdle in which everything has been fashioned. I do not think
you will come back with your purpose unaccomplished, whatever it is your heart desires." So she spoke, and ox-eyed lady Hera smiled, and smiling, tucked it into her bosom. Then Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, went back to her own house, while Hera darted down and left the peak of Olympus. She passed over Pieria and lovely Emathia, and sped on over the snowy mountains of the horse-herding Thracians,
over their highest peaks, and her feet never touched the ground. From Athos she stepped down onto the swelling sea, and came at last to Lemnos, city of godlike Thoas.
There she met Sleep, brother of Death, and she took his hand and spoke to him, calling him by name: "Sleep, lord over all gods and all men alike, if ever before you listened to a word of mine, obey me now too, and I will owe you thanks for all my days. Lull the shining eyes of Zeus to rest beneath his brows, the moment I lie down beside him in love. I will give you gifts in return — a beautiful throne, imperishable forever,
golden, that my own son Hephaestus, the crook-legged god, will make with skill, and set beneath it a footstool,
so that you may rest your gleaming feet on it when you feast." Then sweet Sleep answered her and said: "Hera, honored goddess, daughter of great Cronus, any other of the eternal gods I could put to sleep easily, even the streams of the river Ocean, who is the source of them all —
but I would not go near Zeus, son of Cronus, nor lull him to sleep, unless he himself commanded it. Once before, your own request taught me a hard lesson, on that day when Heracles, the high-hearted son of Zeus,
sailed off from Ilion, having sacked the city of the Trojans. That time I poured myself sweetly over the mind of aegis-bearing Zeus and lulled him, while you were plotting evil in your heart, raising the blasts of harsh winds over the sea, and afterward carrying Heracles away to well-settled Cos,
far from all his friends. Zeus woke and was furious, hurling the gods about his hall, searching above all for me — and he would have flung me out of sight, from the sky into the sea, had Night, who masters gods and men, not saved me. I fled to her, and Zeus stopped, angry as he was,
for he was in awe of doing anything to displease swift Night. And now you ask me again to carry out this other impossible task." Then ox-eyed lady Hera answered him: "Sleep, why do you turn these thoughts over in your heart? Do you really think far-seeing Zeus will help the Trojans as fiercely as he raged over his own son Heracles? Come now — I will give you one of the younger Graces to marry, and she shall be called your wife." So she spoke, and Sleep rejoiced, and answered her: "Come then, swear to me now by the inviolable water of the Styx,
and grip the teeming earth with one hand, and the shimmering sea with the other, so that all the gods below with Cronus may be witnesses between us, that you will truly give me one of the younger Graces, Pasithea, whom I myself have longed for all my days." So he spoke, and the white-armed goddess Hera did not refuse; she swore as he asked, and named all the gods
who dwell below in Tartarus, who are called Titans. And when she had sworn and finished the oath, the two of them set out, leaving behind the city of Lemnos and Imbros,
clothed in mist, moving swiftly along their way. They came to Ida of the many springs, mother of wild beasts, at Lectum, where they first left the sea; from there they went on over the land, and the topmost forest shook beneath their feet. There Sleep stopped, before Zeus could catch sight of him, and climbed a towering fir tree, the tallest that then grew on Ida, rising through the mist to reach the sky. There he sat, hidden among the fir branches,
like the shrill-voiced bird that the gods call chalcis, and men call cymindis.
But Hera swiftly climbed to the topmost peak of high Ida, Gargaron, and the cloud-gatherer Zeus caught sight of her. And the moment he saw her, desire wrapped around his cunning heart, just as it had the first time they came together in love, stealing to bed without their parents' knowledge. He stood before her and spoke, calling her by name: "Hera, where are you hurrying from Olympus to come here? You have no horses, no chariot to ride." Then, with cunning in her heart, lady Hera answered him: "I am going to visit the ends of the fruitful earth,
...Ocean, the wellspring of the gods, and mother Tethys, who raised me well in their own halls and cared for me as a child. I am going now to see them, and I will settle their endless quarrel, for it has been a long time since they have kept apart from one another's bed and love — anger fell between their hearts. My horses stand at the foot of Ida of the many springs, ready to carry me over dry land and sea. It is for your sake that I have come down here from Olympus, so that you will not be angry with me afterward if I slip away in silence to the house of deep-running Ocean.
Cloud-gathering Zeus answered her: "Hera, there will be time enough later to go there. Come, let us turn instead to love, and lie down together. Never has desire for a goddess or a mortal woman so flooded over me and mastered the heart in my chest — not even when I loved Ixion's wife, who bore Pirithous, a match for the gods in counsel; not when I loved Danae of the lovely ankles, Acrisius's daughter, who bore Perseus, most renowned of all men; not the daughter of far-famed Phoenix, who bore me Minos and godlike Rhadamanthys; not Semele, not Alcmene in Thebes, who bore Heracles the great-hearted, while Semele bore Dionysus, joy to mortals; not Demeter, the queen with the lovely hair; not glorious Leto; not even you yourself, before now — as I desire you at this moment, and as sweet longing takes hold of me."
Then, weaving her deception, the lady Hera answered him: "Most dread son of Cronus, what a thing you have said. If you truly long to lie with me in love here on the peaks of Ida, where everything lies open to view — what if one of the gods who live forever should see us sleeping and go and tell it to all the others? I could never rise from such a bed and walk back into your house; it would be shameful. But if this is truly your wish, if your heart is set on it, there is a chamber which your own dear son Hephaestus built for me, and fitted its doors firmly into their posts. Let us go there and lie down, since the bed pleases you so."
Cloud-gathering Zeus answered her: "Hera, do not fear that any god or any man will see us. I will wrap us both in such a cloud of gold that not even the Sun could pierce it with his gaze, though his light is the keenest of all for seeing."
So speaking, the son of Cronus caught his wife in his arms. Beneath them the good earth sent up fresh grass, and dewy clover, crocus, and hyacinth, thick and soft, that lifted them clear of the ground. There they lay down together, and drew over themselves a beautiful golden cloud, from which glistening drops of dew fell away. So the father slept peacefully on the peak of Gargarus, overcome by sleep and by love, holding his wife in his arms.
Then sweet Sleep went running to the ships of the Achaeans to carry his message to the Earthshaker who holds the world. Standing close beside him he spoke winged words: "Now, Poseidon, help the Danaans with a willing heart, and grant them glory, even if only for a little while, while Zeus still sleeps — for I have poured soft slumber over him, and Hera has beguiled him into lying with her in love."
So saying, Sleep went off to the famous tribes of men, and stirred Poseidon on even more eagerly to defend the Danaans. At once the god sprang forward among the front ranks and cried out: "Argives, are we really going to yield the victory to Hector, son of Priam, once again, so that he can take our ships and win the glory? That is what he says, what he boasts, since Achilles stays back by the hollow ships, sulking in his heart. But there will be little enough need to miss him, if the rest of us rouse ourselves to help one another. Come, let us all do as I say. Let every man take up the largest, strongest shield in the whole army, cover his head with a gleaming helmet, take the longest spear his hand can wield, and let us advance. I myself will lead the way, and I say Hector, son of Priam, will not stand his ground for long, however eager he is for battle. Any man who is steady in the fight but carries only a small shield on his shoulder — let him hand it to a weaker man and take up a bigger one himself."
So he spoke, and they listened to him closely and obeyed. The kings themselves, wounded as they were, set the ranks in order — Diomedes son of Tydeus, Odysseus, and Agamemnon son of Atreus. They went among all the men and had them exchange their armor for war: the good armor went to the good fighter, the poorer to the poorer man. And when they had put the gleaming bronze around their bodies, they set out marching, with Poseidon the Earthshaker leading them, holding a terrible long sword in his heavy hand, like a bolt of lightning — a thing no man may come near in the grim press of battle, for fear holds men back from it. And on the other side, shining Hector arrayed the Trojans.
Then Poseidon of the dark hair and shining Hector stretched the fiercest strife of war taut between them, the one helping the Trojans, the other the Argives. The sea surged up against the huts and ships of the Argives, and the two armies came together with a great roar. Not so loud is the wave of the sea when it crashes on the shore, driven landward from the deep by the harsh breath of the North Wind; not so loud is the roar of fire blazing through a mountain forest when it springs up to devour the timber; not so loud does the wind howl through the tall leafy oaks when its fury is at its worst — as loud was the cry that rose from Trojans and Achaeans, shouting terribly, as they charged upon each other.
Shining Hector was the first to hurl his spear at Ajax, since Ajax stood facing him straight on, and Hector did not miss — he struck him where two baldrics crossed over his chest, one holding his shield, the other his silver-studded sword. These saved his soft skin. Hector was furious that his swift spear had leapt from his hand for nothing, and drew back into the crowd of his own men to escape death. But as he was retreating, great Telamonian Ajax caught up a stone — one of the many that lay heaped as props beneath the swift ships, rolling about the feet of the fighters — and with this he struck him on the chest, above the rim of his shield, close to the neck, and sent him spinning like a top; he reeled all around from the blow.
As when an oak tree falls uprooted beneath a stroke from father Zeus, and a terrible smell of sulfur rises from it, and no man standing near who sees it can help but feel his courage fail — for the thunderbolt of great Zeus is a fearsome thing — so did mighty Hector fall suddenly to the ground in the dust. The spear dropped from his hand, and his shield and helmet crashed down over him, and his ornate bronze armor clattered around him. The sons of the Achaeans ran up shouting loudly, hoping to drag him away, and hurled a thick rain of spears at him, but not one of them could wound or strike the shepherd of his people — for the best of the Trojans closed around him first: Polydamas, Aeneas, and godlike Agenor, and Sarpedon, leader of the Lycians, and noble Glaucus. And none of the others failed to care for him either; they all held their round shields close over him. His companions lifted him in their arms and carried him out of the fighting, until they reached his swift horses, which stood behind the battle line with their driver and their richly worked chariot, and these bore him toward the city, groaning heavily.
But when they reached the ford of the fair-flowing river, the whirling Xanthus, whom immortal Zeus fathered, they set him down from the chariot onto the ground and poured water over him. He revived and opened his eyes to look up, and sinking to his knees he vomited dark blood; then he sank back again onto the ground, and black night covered his eyes — the blow still overpowered him.
When the Argives saw Hector going off out of the fight, they pressed harder still upon the Trojans and remembered their eagerness for battle. Then far in front of them all, swift Ajax son of Oileus rushed forward and wounded Satnios, son of Enops, with his sharp spear — a son borne to Enops the herdsman by a fair river-nymph beside the banks of the Satnioeis. Coming close, the famous son of Oileus struck him in the flank, and he toppled backward, and around his body Trojans and Danaans joined in fierce combat.
Then Polydamas, son of Panthous, wielder of the spear, came to defend him, and struck Prothoenor, son of Areilycus, in the right shoulder — the heavy spear went clean through the shoulder, and he fell in the dust and clutched at the earth with his hand. Polydamas boasted over him loudly and terribly: "I think that spear did not fly in vain again from the sturdy hand of great-hearted Panthous's son — some Argive has taken it into his body, and I think he will use it as a staff on his way down into the house of Hades."
So he spoke, and grief seized the Argives at his boasting. It stirred the heart of warlike Ajax son of Telamon most of all, for Prothoenor had fallen closest to him. As Polydamas drew back, Ajax hurled his shining spear after him at once. Polydamas himself escaped black death by leaping aside, but Antenor's son Archelochus caught the blow instead, for the gods had decreed his destruction. The spear struck him where head and neck join, at the topmost joint, and sliced through both tendons, so that when he fell, his head, mouth, and nose struck the ground well before his shins and knees did.
Then Ajax shouted across to noble Polydamas: "Think it over, Polydamas, and tell me truly — is this man not worth killing in exchange for Prothoenor? He does not look to me like a common man, nor born of common stock — he is either the brother of horse-taming Antenor, or his son, for he looks very much like him in build." Ajax knew well who he was as he spoke, and grief seized the hearts of the Trojans.
Then Acamas, standing over his brother's body, struck Promachus of Boeotia with his spear, as Promachus tried to drag the corpse away by the feet. Acamas boasted over him loudly and terribly: "You Argive braggarts, never satisfied with threats — it will not be only us who bear toil and grief; you too will be killed just the same, sooner or later. Look how your Promachus lies asleep, brought down by my spear, so that the price for my brother will not go unpaid for long. That is why a man prays to leave behind a kinsman in his household, to avenge him when he falls."
So he spoke, and grief seized the Argives at his boasting. It stirred the heart of warlike Peneleos most of all. He charged at Acamas, but Acamas did not wait to face the attack of lord Peneleos, who instead struck down Ilioneus, son of Phorbas the rich in flocks, whom Hermes loved above all the Trojans and gave him wealth — though his mother had borne Phorbas only this one son, Ilioneus. Peneleos struck him beneath the brow, at the roots of the eye, and drove the eyeball out; the spear passed straight through the eye and out through the back of the neck, and he sat down with both hands spread wide. Then Peneleos drew his sharp sword and cut clean through the middle of his neck, so that head and helmet together fell to the ground while the heavy spear still stood fixed in the eye. Lifting the head up like a poppy-head, he displayed it to the Trojans and cried out in triumph:
"Trojans, tell the dear father and mother of noble Ilioneus, for me, to weep for him in their halls. For the wife of Promachus, son of Alegenor, will not be gladdened by her husband's homecoming either, on the day we sons of the Achaeans sail back from Troy."
So he spoke, and trembling seized the limbs of all of them, and each man looked about for a way to escape sheer destruction.
Tell me now, Muses who hold the halls of Olympus, who was the first of the Achaeans to strip bloody spoils from a fallen man, once the famous Earthshaker had turned the tide of battle. Ajax son of Telamon was the first: he wounded Hyrtius, son of Gyrtias, leader of the stout-hearted Mysians. Antilochus stripped Phalces and Mermerus. Meriones killed Morys and Hippotion. Teucer brought down Prothoon and Periphetes. Then Agamemnon, son of Atreus, struck Hyperenor, shepherd of his people, in the flank, and the bronze tore through his bowels and let his life run out; his spirit rushed out in haste through the wound, and darkness covered his eyes. But it was Ajax, swift son of Oileus, who killed the most of all, for no man matched him in speed of foot for chasing down the Trojans in their terror, when Zeus drove panic among them.