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.