Homer · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
But once the Trojans, still fleeing, had crossed the stakes and the ditch, and many had gone down under Greek hands, the rest checked their flight and stood by their chariots, pale and shaking with terror. And now Zeus woke, on the peaks of Ida, beside Hera of the golden throne. He sprang up and stood, and saw the Trojans and the Achaeans, the one side in rout, the Argives driving them on from behind, and among them lord Poseidon. He saw Hector too, lying on the plain, his companions gathered around him while he lay gasping for breath, his mind gone, spitting up blood, for it was no weakling among the Achaeans who had struck him down.
Seeing him, the father of gods and men pitied him, and with a terrible look he turned on Hera and said, "This is your doing, Hera — some wretched, incurable scheme of yours has driven godlike Hector from the battle and sent his men running in terror. I wonder whether you won't be the first to reap the fruits of your own vicious plotting, when I take a whip to you. Have you forgotten when I hung you up on high, and fastened two anvils to your feet, and bound your wrists with a golden chain that could not be broken? There you hung, among the clouds and the upper air,
and the gods on tall Olympus raged at the sight, but none of them could come near enough to set you free. Any one I caught, I seized and hurled from the threshold, until he came crashing down to earth, all his strength gone. Even so, my heart never rested from grief for godlike Heracles, whom you, with the North Wind's help, drove with cruel storms across the barren sea, scheming evil against him, and swept him at last to well-peopled Cos. I rescued him from there and brought him home again to horse-pasturing Argos, though he had suffered greatly.
I remind you of this now, so that you will give up your deceptions, and learn what good your love-making did you, that time you came to me from among the gods and beguiled me with it."
So he spoke, and the ox-eyed lady Hera shuddered at his words, and answered him, saying, "Now let Earth be my witness to this, and the wide Heaven above, and the down-flowing water of the Styx — the greatest and most solemn oath a blessed god can swear — and your own sacred head, and our marriage bed, which I would never invoke lightly:
it is not through any wish of mine that Poseidon, the Earth-shaker, harms the Trojans and Hector and helps the other side. His own heart must be driving him, urging him on — he saw the Achaeans suffering by their ships and pitied them. But I myself would gladly advise him to go wherever you, lord of the dark clouds, lead the way."
So she spoke, and the father of gods and men smiled, and answered her with winged words: "If from now on, ox-eyed lady Hera, you would sit among the immortals thinking as I think,
then Poseidon, however much he wants otherwise, would soon turn his mind to match yours and mine. But if what you say now is true and sincere, go among the gods, and call Iris to come here to me, and Apollo the famous archer, so that Iris may go to the bronze-armored Achaean host and tell lord Poseidon to stop fighting and return to his own halls, while Phoebus Apollo rouses Hector to battle again, breathes fresh strength into him, and makes him forget the pain
that now wears down his heart. And Apollo shall turn the Achaeans back once more, stir up a cowardly panic and send them running, until they fall back among the many-benched ships of Achilles, son of Peleus. Then Achilles will send out his companion Patroclus, and glorious Hector will kill him with his spear before Ilion, after Patroclus has cut down many strong young men — and among them my own son, godlike Sarpedon. In anger at this, godlike Achilles will kill Hector. From that point on I will make the Trojans give ground steadily before the ships,
until the Achaeans take steep Ilion by Athena's counsel. Until then I will not check my anger, nor will I let any other god come to help the Danaans here, not until the wish of Peleus's son is fulfilled, just as I promised him at the start, and bowed my head to it, on the day the goddess Thetis clasped my knees and begged me to honor Achilles, sacker of cities." So he spoke, and the white-armed goddess Hera did not disobey, but went from the mountains of Ida up to great Olympus.
As swift as the mind of a man who has traveled over much land and thinks, in his quick understanding, "I wish I were here, or there," and turns over many plans — just as swiftly, eager to be gone, the lady Hera flew on her way. She reached steep Olympus and came upon the immortal gods gathered together in the halls of Zeus, and all of them, at the sight of her, rose and greeted her with raised cups. She let the others be, and took the cup from fair-cheeked Themis, for Themis was the first to run and meet her, and spoke to her with winged words: "Hera, why have you come? You look shaken.
Surely the son of Cronus has frightened you — he is your husband, after all." And the white-armed goddess Hera answered her: "Do not ask me this, goddess Themis. You know yourself how overbearing and harsh his temper is. Instead, take your place presiding over the equal feast among the gods in these halls — you and all the immortals will hear soon enough what wicked plans Zeus is announcing. I do not think everyone alike will find joy in them, neither mortals nor gods, however happily some may still be feasting now." With these words the lady Hera sat down,
and the gods throughout the hall of Zeus grew uneasy. Her lips smiled, but no warmth touched the brow above her dark eyebrows, and, filled with anger at them all, she spoke: "Fools, that we rage against Zeus in our folly! We still think we can go up and stop him, by argument or by force — but he sits apart and pays us no mind, no regard at all. He says he is, in strength and power, by far the best of all the immortal gods. So bear whatever evil he sends each of you. Already, I think, disaster has come to Ares —
his son has died in battle, the man he loved best of all, Ascalaphus, whom violent Ares calls his own." So she spoke, and Ares struck his sturdy thighs with his open palms, and cried out in grief: "Do not blame me now, you who hold the halls of Olympus, if I go to the ships of the Achaeans to avenge my son's death, even if it is my fate to be struck by the thunderbolt of Zeus and lie among the corpses, in blood and dust." So he spoke, and ordered Terror and Fear to yoke his horses, while he himself put on his blazing armor.
Then an even greater and more terrible anger and wrath would have arisen between Zeus and the immortals, if Athena, in fear for all the gods, had not sprung up from her seat and rushed out through the porch. She snatched the helmet from Ares' head and the shield from his shoulders, and took the bronze spear from his powerful hand and set it down, and then rebuked the raging god: "Madman, out of your mind, you are ruined! Do you have ears only for hearing, while sense and shame are gone from you? Do you not hear what the white-armed goddess Hera says,
fresh from the presence of Olympian Zeus himself? Or do you want to pile up more suffering for yourself and be forced back to Olympus in grief, and at the same time sow great trouble for all the rest of us? For at once Zeus will abandon the proud Trojans and the Achaeans and come storming after us on Olympus, and he will seize whoever is guilty, and whoever is not, without distinction. So I tell you now, give up your anger over your son. Better men than he, in strength and in the work of their hands, have already died, or will die later — it is a hard thing
to save the life and offspring of every man on earth." With these words she made the raging Ares sit back down on his throne. Meanwhile Hera called Apollo outside the hall, along with Iris, who serves as messenger among the immortal gods, and spoke to them both with winged words: "Zeus commands you both to go to Ida as fast as you can. When you arrive and look upon the face of Zeus, do whatever he urges and commands." With these words the lady Hera went back and sat down on her throne, and the two of them sprang up and flew off.
They came to Ida of the many springs, mother of wild beasts, and found the wide-seeing son of Cronus sitting on the peak of Gargarus, a fragrant cloud wreathed around him. The two came before Zeus, gatherer of clouds, and stood there, and he was not angry at the sight of them, since they had obeyed his dear wife's words so quickly. He spoke first to Iris, with winged words: "Go now, swift Iris, and carry this whole message to lord Poseidon, and be no false messenger.
Tell him to stop his fighting and his war, and go among the tribes of the gods, or into the bright sea. If he refuses to listen to my words and disregards them, then let him consider carefully in his heart and mind whether, strong as he is, he dares to wait for me when I come against him — for I claim to be far mightier than he,
and older by birth. Yet his heart does not shrink from claiming to be my equal, though the other gods hold him in dread." So he spoke, and wind-footed swift Iris did not disobey, but went down from the mountains of Ida to sacred Ilion. As when snow or hail flies down from the clouds, driven by the blast of the North Wind born in bright air,
just as swiftly, eager to be gone, swift Iris sped on her way, and coming close she spoke to the famous Earth-shaker: "I have come here, Earth-holder of the dark hair, bringing you a message from Zeus who bears the aegis. He orders you to stop your fighting and your war, and to go among the tribes of the gods, or into the bright sea. If you refuse to listen to his words and disregard them, he himself threatens to come here and fight against you face to face, and he tells you to keep out of the way
of his hands, since he claims to be far mightier than you, and older by birth. Yet your heart does not shrink from claiming to be his equal, though the other gods hold him in dread."
Then, greatly troubled, the famous Earth-shaker answered her: "Ah, but this is outrageous — however great he is, he speaks with such arrogance, that he would restrain me by force against my will, when I am his equal in honor. For we are three brothers born of Cronus, whom Rhea bore: Zeus, and myself, and Hades, third, lord of the dead below. All was divided three ways, and each of us received his portion of honor. When the lots were shaken and drawn, I received the gray sea as my everlasting home,
Hades drew the murky darkness, and Zeus drew the wide heaven, among the bright air and the clouds. But the earth is still shared by all of us, and tall Olympus too. So I will not live by the will of Zeus — let him, strong as he is, stay content with his own third share. And let him not try to frighten me with his hands as though I were some coward. He would do better to threaten his own sons and daughters with his violent words — the children he fathered himself — for they must obey him, whether they like it or not."
Then wind-footed swift Iris answered him: "Earth-holder of the dark hair, is this really the message, harsh and unyielding, that you want me to carry back to Zeus? Or will you soften it a little? The minds of the great can bend. You know how the Furies always follow the elder-born." Then Poseidon, the Earth-shaker, answered her again: "Goddess Iris, what you have said is well and fitly spoken. It is a fine thing indeed when a messenger has such good judgment. But this is a bitter grief that touches my heart and spirit,
whenever he tries to rebuke, with angry words, one who is his equal in rank and destined portion. Still, angry as I am, I will give way this time. But I tell you this, and I make this threat in earnest: if he spares steep Ilion against my will, and against the will of Athena driver of spoils, of Hera, of Hermes, and of lord Hephaestus, and refuses to let it be sacked, and instead gives great victory to the Argives, then let him know that between us there will be a wound of anger that will not heal."
With these words the Earth-shaker left the Achaean army and plunged into the sea, and the Achaean warriors missed him sorely. And then Zeus, gatherer of clouds, spoke to Apollo: "Go now, dear Phoebus, to Hector of the bronze helmet. Already the Earth-holder, the Earth-shaker, has gone off into the bright sea, avoiding my heavy anger — for otherwise even the gods below, who dwell around Cronus, would have heard the sound of our quarrel. It was far better for both of us, for me and for him, that in spite of his anger he gave way
to my hands, since this would not have been settled without a struggle. But now, take up the tasseled aegis in your hands, and shake it hard to strike terror into the Achaean warriors.
And you yourself, far-shooting one, take care of glorious Hector. Rouse great strength in him, until the Achaeans run in flight to their ships and the Hellespont. From that point on I myself will see to how things unfold, in deed and in word, so that the Achaeans may once more catch their breath from their suffering." So he spoke, and Apollo did not disobey his father, but went down from the mountains of Ida like a hawk, the swift dove-killer, swiftest of winged things. He found Hector, wise son of Priam, godlike Hector,
sitting up now, no longer lying down — he had just begun to gather his wits, recognizing the comrades around him, while the gasping and the sweat had eased, since the will of Zeus who bears the aegis was reviving him. Apollo, who strikes from afar, came close and spoke: "Hector, son of Priam, why do you sit apart from the others, so weak? Has some trouble come upon you?" And Hector of the flashing helm, his strength still faint, answered him: "Who are you, best of the gods, who ask me this face to face?
Have you not heard that Ajax, good at the war cry, struck me with a rock full in the chest, by the sterns of the Achaean ships, as I was killing his comrades, and stopped my furious onslaught? I truly thought that today I would go down among the dead and the house of Hades, since I felt my life breath failing." Then lord Apollo, who strikes from afar, answered him: "Take heart now — such a helper has the son of Cronus sent from Ida to stand beside you and defend you,
Phoebus Apollo of the golden sword, who has guarded you before, both yourself and your steep city. Come now, urge your many horsemen to drive their swift horses against the hollow ships, while I go on ahead and smooth the whole road
for the horses, and turn the Achaean warriors back in flight." So saying, he breathed great strength into the shepherd of his people. And as when a stalled horse, well fed at the manger, breaks his halter and gallops thundering across the plain, used to bathing in the sweet-flowing river, exulting, holding his head high, his mane streaming about his shoulders as he runs, trusting in his own splendor, his legs carrying him swiftly to the pastures and haunts of horses —
just so Hector moved his feet and knees swiftly, urging on his horsemen, once he had heard the voice of the god. And as when hounds and country men chase a horned stag or a wild goat, but a steep cliff and shadowy woods save it from them, since it is not fated for them to catch it — then, roused by their shouting, a bearded lion appears in the path, and at once turns all of them back, eager as they were —
just so the Danaans, for a while, kept pressing on in a mass, thrusting with swords and double-edged spears, but when they saw Hector moving among the ranks of men, they were struck with fear, and the heart sank at the feet of every one of them.
Then Thoas, son of Andraemon, spoke among them, far the best of the Aetolians, skilled with the javelin and strong in close combat too — and in the assembly few Achaeans could outdo him, when young men vied with one another in speech. With good will he spoke and addressed them: "Ah, what a great wonder I see now with my own eyes — Hector has risen again, escaping the spirits of death! Surely every man's heart hoped that he would die
at the hands of Ajax, son of Telamon. Yet some god has rescued him and saved Hector once again, the very man who has already loosed the knees of so many Danaans — and I think he will do so again now, for it is not without the thunder of Zeus that he stands so eager in the front ranks. Come then, let us all do as I say. Let us order the mass of men to fall back to the ships, but let those of us who claim to be the best in the army
take our stand, and see whether, meeting him first, we can hold him off, spears raised — I think that even in his fury he will fear in his heart to plunge into the Danaan ranks." So he spoke, and they listened closely and obeyed him.
They gathered, some around Ajax and lord Idomeneus, Teucer and Meriones and Meges, a match for the war-god, calling the bravest to knot the battle-line against Hector and the Trojans; and behind them the mass of the army drew back toward the ships. But the Trojans surged forward in a mass, and Hector led them with long strides. Ahead of him went Phoebus Apollo, his shoulders wrapped in cloud, holding the dread, tasseled aegis, terrible and bright, which the smith Hephaestus had given to Zeus to carry, to rout men in battle.
This Apollo held in his hands and led the armies on. The Argives stood their ground in a mass, and a sharp cry rose from both sides, and arrows leapt from bowstrings. Many spears from bold hands stuck fast in the flesh of quick young fighters, and many more, before they could taste white skin, stood planted in the ground between the lines, hungry still for flesh. As long as Phoebus Apollo held the aegis still in his hands, missiles from both sides found their mark and men kept falling. But once he looked the fast-horsed Danaans full in the face
and shook it, and himself gave a great war-cry, he stole the courage from the hearts within their chests, and they forgot their battle-fury. As when two beasts of prey scatter a herd of cattle or a great flock of sheep, falling on them suddenly in the black dead of night while no herdsman is there, so the Achaeans fled in terror, stripped of courage — for Apollo sent panic among them and gave glory to the Trojans and to Hector. Then, as the battle line broke apart, man cut down man. Hector killed Stichius and Arcesilaus, one the leader of the bronze-shirted Boeotians,
the other the trusted companion of great-hearted Menestheus. Aeneas stripped the armor from Medon and Iasus. Medon was the bastard son of godlike Oileus, brother to Ajax, though he lived away from his own country, in Phylace, for he had killed a kinsman of his stepmother, Eriopis, whom Oileus had married. Iasus, for his part, had become a leader of the Athenians, and was called son of Sphelus, son of Bucolus. Polydamas cut down Mecisteus, and Polites killed Echius in the front rank of the fighting, and shining Agenor killed Clonius.
Paris struck Deiochus with a spear low through the shoulder from behind as he fled among the front-fighters, and drove the bronze clean through. While they were stripping the armor from these fallen men, the Achaeans, driven back against the dug trench and its stakes, fled this way and that, and were forced by necessity to crowd inside the wall. Hector shouted to the Trojans, calling out loud and long, to press on to the ships and let the bloody spoils be — "Any man I see hanging back from the ships, keeping apart, I will find a way to kill him on the spot, and neither his kinsmen, male or female, will give his corpse its due fire when he is dead —
the dogs will drag him instead, in front of our own city." So he spoke, and struck his horses' backs with the whip, calling out to the Trojans down the ranks, and they all cried out together and drove their chariot-horses on with him, a tremendous roar. Ahead of them Phoebus Apollo easily kicked down the banks of the deep ditch with his feet, and threw the earth into the middle, bridging a road long and wide, as far as a spear can fly when a man throws it to test his strength. Along this the Trojans poured forward in ranks, and ahead of them went Apollo,
holding the priceless aegis. He tore down the wall of the Achaeans with total ease, the way a boy at the edge of the sea knocks down a sandcastle he built for fun, then scatters it again with his hands and feet, just playing. So did you, Phoebus, scatter all the long labor and grief of the Argives, and stir panic in the men themselves. So they were driven back and held their ground beside their ships, calling to one another and to all the gods, lifting their hands and praying loud and hard, every man of them. Nestor of Gerenia, the guardian of the Achaeans, prayed hardest of all,
stretching his hand toward the starry sky: "Father Zeus, if ever any man of us in wheat-rich Argos burned the fat thighs of an ox or sheep and prayed for a safe return home, and you nodded your promise to him — remember that now, Olympian, and drive off this pitiless day. Do not let the Trojans crush the Achaeans so completely."
So he prayed, and Zeus the counselor thundered loud, hearing the prayers of the old son of Neleus. But when the Trojans heard the thunder of aegis-bearing Zeus, they leapt on the Argives all the harder, remembering their lust for battle. As a great wave of the wide sea breaks over a ship's rails when the force of the wind drives it — for that is what most swells the waves —
so the Trojans came over the wall with a great roar. They drove their chariots in and fought beside the sterns of the ships hand-to-hand with double-pointed spears, some from their chariots, others climbing up onto the black ships themselves, wielding the long pikes kept there for sea-fighting, jointed and tipped with bronze at the point. Now while the Achaeans and Trojans were still fighting for the wall, away from the swift ships,
Patroclus sat in the tent of gracious Eurypylus, keeping him company with talk and spreading medicine on his grim wound to ease the dark pain. But when he saw the Trojans surging over the wall, and heard the Danaans' cries of panic, he groaned aloud, struck both his thighs with the flat of his hands, and cried out in grief:
"Eurypylus, I can't stay here with you any longer, much as you need me — a great struggle has broken out.
Let your attendant see to you now; I must hurry to Achilles and spur him to fight. Who knows — with some god's help I might stir his heart by pleading with him? A friend's persuasion carries weight."
So he spoke and his feet carried him off, while the Achaeans held firm against the oncoming Trojans, and even though they were fewer, could not be pushed back from the ships; nor could the Trojans, for their part, break the Danaan ranks and force their way in among the tents and ships. But just as a carpenter's chalk-line straightens a ship's timber
in the hands of a skilled shipwright who knows his whole craft well through the guidance of Athena, so evenly was the battle and the war stretched taut between them. Different men fought around different ships. Hector made straight for glorious Ajax. The two of them struggled over a single ship, and neither could drive the other off — Hector could not push Ajax back and set the ship ablaze, nor could Ajax force Hector away, since a god had brought him there. Then shining Ajax struck Caletor, son of Clytius, in the chest with his spear as he carried fire toward the ship.
He fell with a crash, and the torch dropped from his hand. When Hector saw his cousin fall in the dust in front of the black ship, he shouted loud to the Trojans and Lycians:
"Trojans, Lycians, Dardanians who fight hand to hand — don't give ground now, not in this narrow place. Save the son of Clytius, or the Achaeans will strip his armor now that he's fallen among the ships."
So saying he threw his shining spear at Ajax. He missed, but struck Lycophron instead, son of Mastor,
Ajax's attendant from Cythera, who lived with him after killing a man on holy Cythera. The bronze struck him above the ear as he stood near Ajax, and he fell backward in the dust from the ship's stern, and his limbs went slack. Ajax shuddered and spoke to his brother:
"Teucer, dear friend, our loyal companion is dead — Mastor's son, whom we honored in our house like our own parents, when he lived with us, a man from Cythera. Great-hearted Hector has killed him. Where now are your swift, deadly arrows,
and the bow Phoebus Apollo gave you?"
So he spoke, and Teucer understood and ran to stand beside him, holding his curved bow and quiver full of arrows, and quickly began loosing shafts at the Trojans. He struck Cleitus, splendid son of Peisenor, companion of proud Polydamas son of Panthous, as he held the reins — busy managing the horses, driving them where the ranks were thickest, doing a favor for Hector and the Trojans. But evil came to him swiftly, and no one, however eager, could ward it off,
for a groan-bringing arrow struck him from behind in the neck. He toppled from the chariot, and the horses swerved aside, rattling the empty car. Lord Polydamas saw it at once and was the first to step in front of the horses. He gave them to Astynous, son of Protiaon, telling him firmly to keep them close by and watch, while he himself went back to join the front fighters. Then Teucer reached for another arrow against bronze-helmed Hector, and would have stopped him fighting beside the Achaean ships
if he had struck him down at the height of his glory and taken his life. But Zeus's watchful mind did not miss it — he was guarding Hector, and instead robbed Teucer, son of Telamon, of his triumph: he snapped the tightly twisted string on Teucer's flawless bow just as he drew it. The bronze-weighted arrow flew wide, and the bow dropped from his hand. Teucer shuddered and spoke to his brother:
"Ah, look how completely some god is cutting off the plans of our battle — he's knocked the bow from my hand, and snapped the newly twisted string I tied on this morning, so it could bear the arrows leaping from it again and again."
Great Ajax, son of Telamon, answered him: "Well then, friend, let the bow and the many arrows lie, since a god has ruined them, spiting the Danaans. Take up a long spear in your hands instead, and a shield on your shoulder, and fight the Trojans, and rouse the rest of the men. They will not take our well-benched ships without a hard fight, even if they beat us down — let's remember our battle-fury."
So he spoke, and Teucer set his bow down in the tent, and slung a four-layered shield across his shoulders, and set a well-made helmet with a horsehair crest on his sturdy head
— the crest nodding grim above it — and took up a strong spear tipped with sharp bronze, and went to stand quickly at Ajax's side. When Hector saw that Teucer's arrows had been foiled, he shouted loud to the Trojans and Lycians:
"Trojans, Lycians, Dardanians who fight hand to hand, be men, my friends, and remember your battle-fury here among the hollow ships — I have seen with my own eyes how Zeus has foiled the arrows of their best warrior. It's easy to see when Zeus gives strength to men,
whether to those he grants the greater glory, or to those whose might he diminishes and refuses to help — as now he diminishes the Argives' strength and helps us. So fight on beside the ships, all together. Whoever among you is struck by an arrow or spear and meets his death, let him die — it is no shame for a man to die defending his country. His wife will be safe and his children after him, and his house and inheritance untouched, if the Achaeans and their ships sail off for their own native land."
So he spoke, and roused the strength and spirit of every man. On the other side, Ajax called out to his comrades:
"Shame on you, Argives! Now it is life or death — either destruction, or safety and driving this evil back from the ships. Do you really think that if crested Hector takes the ships, you'll each walk home to your own country? Don't you hear him urging on his whole army,
Hector, who is burning to set our ships on fire? He isn't calling them to a dance, but to battle. There's no better plan or thought for us now than to close with them at once, hand to hand, with all our strength.
Better to die at once, or live, than to be worn down slowly in grim slaughter here beside the ships, beaten by lesser men." So he spoke, and roused the strength and spirit of every man. Then Hector killed Schedius, son of Perimedes, leader of the Phocians, and Ajax killed Laodamas, commander of the foot soldiers, splendid son of Antenor.
Polydamas killed Otus of Cyllene, companion of Meges' kinsman Phyleus, leader of the great-hearted Epeians. Meges rushed at him when he saw, but Polydamas ducked aside
and dodged him — Apollo would not let Panthous' son fall among the front fighters — but Meges' spear caught Croesmus square in the chest instead. He fell with a crash, and Meges began stripping the armor from his shoulders. Just then Dolops rushed at him, a skilled spearman,
son of Lampus, whom Lampus, son of Laomedon, had fathered as his finest son, well versed in furious battle. He struck the middle of Phyleus' son's shield with his spear, closing in from near range, but the close-fitted breastplate he wore protected him — the one Phyleus once
brought from Ephyre, from the river Selleis. A guest-friend, Euphetes, lord of men, had given it to him to wear in war as protection against enemy spears — and now it saved his son's life once again. Meges struck the very peak of Dolops' bronze horsehair helmet with his sharp spear,
and tore the horsehair crest right off, so that it fell whole into the dust, still fresh with its bright crimson dye. While Dolops kept fighting on, still hoping for victory, warlike Menelaus came up to help Meges,
and stood unseen to the side with his spear, and struck him in the shoulder from behind. The spearpoint drove eagerly through his chest, pressing forward, and he pitched face-down. The two of them rushed to strip the bronze armor from his shoulders, but Hector called out to all his brothers,
scolding them one and all, and first of all he rebuked mighty Melanippus, son of Hicetaon. He had once herded shambling cattle in Percote, far from the enemy, but when the Danaans' curved ships arrived, he came back to Troy, where he stood out among the Trojans,
and lived in the house of Priam, who honored him like his own sons. Hector rebuked him now, and spoke his name:
"So we're just going to let this go, Melanippus? Doesn't your heart care at all that your cousin has been killed? Don't you see them fighting over Dolops' armor? Follow me — there's no more room now for the Argives to fight us from a distance. We must either kill them, or they will tear steep Troy down from its heights and kill its people."
So saying he led on, and the godlike man followed close behind. Meanwhile great Ajax, son of Telamon, urged on the Argives:
"Friends, be men — hold shame in your hearts, and feel shame before one another in the thick of this hard fighting. More men live who feel shame than are killed; but in men who flee, no glory rises, and no strength either."
So he spoke, and they too were already burning to defend themselves; they took his words to heart, and fenced the ships in a wall of bronze. And Zeus stirred the Trojans on against them. Then Menelaus, good at the war cry, urged on Antilochus:
"Antilochus, no other Achaean is younger than you, none faster on his feet or braver in a fight —
if only you would leap out and bring down some Trojan."
So saying he darted back, but had already spurred Antilochus on. He sprang out from the front ranks, glanced around him, and threw his shining spear. The Trojans fell back before the throw, and his shot did not fly for nothing —
it struck proud Melanippus, son of Hicetaon, in the chest beside the nipple, just as he was coming into the fight. He fell with a crash, and darkness covered his eyes. Antilochus rushed forward like a hound that leaps on a wounded fawn
just as a hunter, springing from its lair, has struck it and loosed its limbs — so, Melanippus, did battle-staunch Antilochus leap on you
to strip your armor. But he did not escape the notice of shining Hector, who came running to meet him through the fighting. Antilochus, quick fighter though he was, did not stand his ground, but fled like a wild beast that has done some harm,
killed a dog or a herdsman among his cattle, and runs before a crowd of men can gather — so Nestor's son fled, and the Trojans and Hector, with a tremendous roar, poured a hail of groaning missiles after him,
and he turned and stood only once he had reached the ranks of his own comrades. And the Trojans, like raw-flesh-eating lions, rushed on against the ships, fulfilling the commands of Zeus, who kept stirring their great strength ever higher, and bewitched the hearts of the Argives, robbing them of glory while he spurred the Trojans on. For his heart wished to give glory to Hector,
son of Priam, so that he might throw unwearying, wondrous fire on the curved ships, and thus bring to full completion Thetis's monstrous prayer. This alone Zeus the counselor was waiting for — to see with his own eyes the glare of a burning ship.
For from that moment the tide was meant to turn — the Trojans driven back from the ships in flight, and glory given over to the Danaans. With this in mind Zeus roused Hector, son of Priam, against the hollow ships, eager as the man already was of himself. He raged like Ares who shakes the spear, or like ruinous fire raging on the mountains in the dense thickets of a deep wood. Foam gathered about his mouth, his two eyes blazed under his grim brows, and around his temples the helmet shook terribly as he fought — for Hector had a helper out of heaven itself.
Zeus was that helper, who honored and glorified him alone among the many men fighting there, though his time was to be short. Already Pallas Athena was stirring against him the day of his death, to come by the hand of Peleus's son. He wanted now, testing his strength, to break the ranks of men wherever he saw the thickest press and the finest armor, but for all his fury he could not break them. They held firm, packed close like a tower, like a great sheer cliff standing near the gray sea, which withstands the swift paths of the shrieking winds and the swollen waves that come roaring against it — so the Danaans held against the Trojans, unmoved, unfleeing.
But Hector, blazing with fire on every side, leapt into the crowd of them and fell upon it as a wave, swollen by the wind under storm-clouds, crashes down upon a swift ship. The whole ship is buried under spray, a dreadful gust of wind roars in the sail, and the sailors' hearts tremble with fear, for they are carried only a little way from death. So were the hearts torn apart in the breasts of the Achaeans.
And Hector came on like a ravening lion falling upon cattle that graze by the thousand in the low ground of some great marsh, with a herdsman among them who does not yet know well how to fight a beast for the killing of a horned cow — he keeps pace always at the head of the herd, or at its tail, while the lion springs into the middle, seizes an ox, and devours it, and all the rest scatter in terror. So then were the Achaeans driven in terrible rout by Hector and father Zeus, all of them together — but Hector alone struck down the Mycenaean Periphetes, dear son of Copreus, who used to go on King Eurystheus's errands in the face of mighty Heracles.
From a father far lesser had come a son far better in every kind of excellence, in speed of foot and in fighting alike, and in judgment he ranked among the first of the Mycenaeans. It was he who now gave over the higher glory to Hector — for as he wheeled backward he tripped on the rim of his own shield, the long shield that reached to his feet and served him as a fence against spears, and caught in it he fell on his back, and around his temples the helmet rang terribly as he fell. Hector saw it in an instant, ran up close, and stood over him, and drove his spear into his chest, killing him there before the eyes of his own dear companions, who for all their grief could not help him, so afraid were they themselves of the great Hector.
Now they were within sight of the ships, and the outermost hulls that had been drawn up first hemmed them in, and the enemy poured over them. The Argives gave ground before the ships, driven back of necessity from the first line, but they held together beside their own huts and did not scatter through the camp — shame and fear held them, since again and again they called out to one another to stand. Above all, Nestor the Gerenian, watchman of the Achaeans, begged them, pleading with each man in the name of his parents:
"Friends, be men, and set shame in your hearts before the eyes of others, and let every one of you remember his children, his wife, his possessions, and his parents — whether they still live or have already died. For their sake, though they are far away, I beg you here to stand fast and strong, and not to turn your backs in flight."
So he spoke, and roused the strength and spirit of each man. And Athena drove from their eyes a wondrous cloud of mist, and a great light broke on both sides — toward the ships and toward the fighting that engulfed them equally.
They now made out Hector, good at the war cry, and his companions — both those who hung back behind the fighting and those who fought the swift battle by the ships. Ajax the great-hearted could no longer bear to stand where the other sons of the Achaeans had drawn back; instead he strode with long steps along the ships' decks, wielding in his hands a great pike for sea-fighting, jointed with rivets, twenty-two cubits long. As a man skilled in riding horses, who yokes together four chosen from many and drives them from the plain toward a great city along the public road, while many men and women look on in wonder, and he leaps steadily and surely from one horse's back to another as they gallop on — so Ajax ranged over the decks of the swift ships with long strides, and his voice reached to the very sky as he shouted terribly again and again, urging the Danaans to defend their ships and huts.
Nor did Hector stay back among the crowd of well-armored Trojans. As a tawny eagle swoops upon a flock of winged birds feeding by a river — geese, or cranes, or long-necked swans — so Hector rushed straight at a dark-prowed ship, charging head-on, and Zeus behind him pushed him forward with a mighty hand and roused the host along with him.
Once more bitter battle broke out beside the ships. You would have said that men unwearied and unworn met each other fresh to the fight, so fiercely did they fight. And this was the thought in the minds of those who struggled: the Achaeans did not believe they could escape the disaster, but must die there, while the heart in every Trojan's breast hoped to burn the ships and kill the Achaean warriors. Such were the thoughts with which they stood against one another.
Then Hector laid hold of the stern of a seafaring ship, a fine, swift one, the very ship that had carried Protesilaus to Troy but never carried him home again to his own land. Around this ship Achaeans and Trojans now cut each other down at close range — no longer did either side hold off with arrows or javelins, but standing near one another, with a single fury,
they fought with sharp axes and hatchets, with great swords, and with double-edged spears. Many fine swords, black-hilted, bound at the grip, fell from men's hands to the ground, or from their shoulders as they fought, and the black earth ran with blood. Hector, once he had taken hold of the stern, would not let go, gripping the ornamented stern-post in his hands, and he called to the Trojans: "Bring fire, and all together raise the war cry as one! Now Zeus has given us a day worth all the rest, to take these ships that came here against the will of the gods and have brought us so much grief — through the cowardice of our elders, who held me back when I was eager to fight beside the ships' sterns, and restrained the army. But if far-thundering Zeus was clouding our minds then, now he himself drives us on and commands us."
So he spoke, and they surged harder against the Argives. Ajax could no longer hold his ground, hard-pressed by the missiles; he gave a little ground, expecting to die, backing onto the seven-foot bench and leaving the deck of the trim ship. There he stood watching, and with his spear he kept beating back any Trojan who came carrying tireless fire toward the ships, and all the while he shouted terribly, calling to the Danaans:
"Friends, Danaan heroes, servants of Ares, be men, my friends, and remember your furious courage! Do we suppose we have any helpers behind us, or any wall stronger than this to keep off disaster from us? There is no city nearby, built with towers, where we might take refuge and find some people to defend us on equal terms. No — we are set here on the plain of the well-armored Trojans, pinned against the sea, far from our own homeland.
So our safety lies in our hands, not in any gentleness of war." He spoke, and pressed on, raging, with his sharp spear. And whatever Trojan came against the hollow ships carrying blazing fire, to please Hector who urged them on, that man Ajax met and struck down with his long spear. Twelve men he wounded there, at close quarters, before the ships.