How Patroklos fought in the armour of Achilles, and drove the Trojans
from the ships, but was slain at last by Hector.
So they were warring round the well-timbered ship, but Patroklos drew
near Achilles, shepherd of the host, and he shed warm tears, even as a
fountain of dark water that down a steep cliff pours its cloudy stream.
And noble swift-footed Achilles when he beheld him was grieved for his
sake, and accosted him, and spake winged words, saying: “Wherefore
weepest thou, Patroklos, like a fond little maid, that runs by her
mother’s side, and bids her mother take her up, snatching at her gown,
and hinders her in her going, and tearfully looks at her, till the
mother takes her up? like her, Patroklos, dost thou let fall soft
tears. Hast thou aught to tell to the Myrmidons, or to me myself, or is
it some tidings out of Phthia that thou alone hast beard? Or dost thou
lament for the sake of the Argives,—how they perish by the hollow ships
through their own transgression? Speak out, and hide it not within thy
spirit, that we may both know all.”
But with a heavy groan didst thou speak unto him, O knight Patroklos:
“O Achilles, son of Peleus, far the bravest of the Achaians, be not
wroth, seeing that so great calamity has beset the Achaians. For verily
all of them that aforetime were the best are lying among the ships,
smitten and wounded. Smitten is the son of Tydeus, strong Diomedes, and
wounded is Odysseus, spearman renowned, and Agamemnon; and smitten is
Eurypylos on the thigh with an arrow. And about them the leeches
skilled in medicines are busy, healing their wounds, but thou art hard
to reconcile, Achilles. Never then may such wrath take hold of me as
that thou nursest; thou brave to the hurting of others. What other men
later born shall have profit of thee, if thou dost not ward off base
ruin from the Argives? Pitiless that thou art, the knight Peleus was
not then thy father, nor Thetis thy mother, but the grey sea bare thee,
and the sheer cliffs, so untoward is thy spirit. But if in thy heart
thou art shunning some oracle, and thy lady mother hath told thee
somewhat from Zeus, yet me do thou send forth quickly, and make the
rest of the host of the Myrmidons follow me, if yet any light may arise
from me to the Danaans. And give me thy harness to buckle about my
shoulders, if perchance the Trojans may take me for thee, and so
abstain from battle, and the warlike sons of the Achaians may take
breath, wearied as they be, for brief is the breathing in war. And
lightly might we that are fresh drive men wearied with the battle back
to the citadel, away from the ships and the huts.”
So he spake and besought him, in his unwittingness, for truly it was to
be his own evil death and fate that he prayed for. Then to him in great
heaviness spake swift-footed Achilles: “Ah me, Patroklos of the seed of
Zeus, what word hast thou spoken? Neither take I heed of any oracle
that I wot of, nor yet has my lady mother told me somewhat from Zeus,
but this dread sorrow comes upon my heart and spirit, from the hour
that a man wishes to rob me who am his equal, and to take away my
prize, for that he excels me in power. A dread sorrow to me is this,
after all the toils that my heart hath endured. The maiden that the
sons of the Achaians chose out for me as my prize, and that I won with
my spear when I sacked a well-walled city, her has mighty Agamemnon the
son of Atreus taken back out of my hands, as though I were but some
sojourner dishonourable. But we will let bygones be bygones. No man may
be angry of heart for ever, yet verily I said that I would not cease
from my wrath, until that time when to mine own ships should come the
war-cry and the battle. But do thou on thy shoulders my famous harness,
and lead the war-loving Myrmidons to the fight, to ward off destruction
from the ships, lest they even burn the ships with blazing fire, and
take away our desired return. But when thou hast driven them from the
ships, return, and even if the loud-thundering lord of Hera grant thee
to win glory, yet long not thou apart from me to fight with the
war-loving Trojans; thereby wilt thou minish mine honour. Neither do
thou, exulting in war and strife, and slaying the Trojans, lead on
toward Ilios, lest one of the eternal gods from Olympus come against
thee; right dearly doth Apollo the Far-darter love them. Nay, return
back when thou halt brought safety to the ships, and suffer the rest to
fight along the plain. For would, O father Zeus, and Athene, and
Apollo, would that not one of all the Trojans might escape death, nor
one of the Argives, but that we twain might avoid destruction, that
alone we might undo the sacred coronal of Troy.”
So spake they each to other, but Aias no longer abode the onset, for he
was overpowered by darts; the counsel of Zeus was subduing him, and the
shafts of the proud Trojans; and his bright helmet, being smitten, kept
ringing terribly about his temples: for always it was smitten upon the
fair-wrought cheek-pieces. Moreover his left shoulder was wearied, as
steadfastly he held up his glittering shield, nor yet could they make
him give ground, as they pressed on with their darts around him. And
ever he was worn out with difficult breath, and much sweat kept running
from all his limbs, nor had he a moment to draw breath, so on all sides
was evil heaped on evil.
Tell me now, ye Muses that have mansions in Olympus, how first fire
fell on the ships of the Achaians. Hector drew near, and the ashen
spear of Aias he smote with his great sword, hard by the socket, behind
the point, and shore it clean away, and the son of Telamon brandished
in his hand no more than a pointless spear, and far from him the head
of bronze fell ringing on the ground.
And Aias knew in his noble heart, and shuddered at the deeds of the
gods, even how Zeus that thundereth on high did utterly cut off from
him avail in war, and desired victory for the Trojans. Then Aias gave
back out of the darts. But the Trojans cast on the swift ship
unwearying fire, and instantly the inextinguishable flame streamed over
her: so the fire begirt the stern, whereon Achilles smote his thighs,
and spake to Patroklos: “Arise, Patroklos of the seed of Zeus,
commander of the horsemen, for truly I see by the ships the rush of the
consuming fire. Up then, lest they take the ships, and there be no more
retreat; do on thy harness speedily, and I will summon the host.”
So spake he, while Patroklos was harnessing him in shining bronze. His
goodly greaves, fitted with silver clasps, he first girt round his
legs, and next did on around his breast the well-dight starry corslet
of the swift-footed son of Aiakos. And round his shoulders he cast a
sword of bronze, with studs of silver, and next took the great and
mighty shield, and on his proud head set a well-wrought helm with a
horse-hair crest, and terribly nodded the crest from above. Then seized
he two strong lances that fitted his grasp, only he took not the spear
of the noble son of Aiakos, heavy, and huge, and stalwart, that none
other of the Achaians could wield. And Patroklos bade Automedon to yoke
the horses speedily, even Automedon whom most he honoured after
Achilles, the breaker of the ranks of men, and whom he held trustiest
in battle to abide his call. And for him Automedon led beneath the yoke
the swift horses, Xanthos and Balios, that fly as swift as the winds,
the horses that the harpy Podarge bare to the West Wind, as she grazed
on the meadow by the stream of Okeanos. And in the side-traces he put
the goodly Pedasos, that Achilles carried away, when he took the city
of Eetion; and being but a mortal steed, he followed with the immortal
horses.
Meanwhile Achilles went and harnessed all the Myrmidons in the huts
with armour, and they gathered like ravening wolves with strength in
their hearts unspeakable. And among them all stood warlike Achilles
urging on the horses and the targeteers. And he aroused the heart and
valour of each of them, and the ranks were yet the closer serried when
they heard the prince. And as when a man builds the wall of a high
house with close-set stones, to avoid the might of the winds, even so
close were arrayed the helmets and bossy shields, and shield pressed on
shield, helm on helm, and man on man, and the horse-hair crests on the
bright helmet-ridges touched each other when they nodded, so close they
stood by each other.
And straightway they poured forth like wasps that have their dwelling
by the wayside, and that boys are ever wont to vex, always tormenting
them in their nests beside the way in childish sport, and a common evil
they make for many. With heart and spirit like theirs the Myrmidons
poured out now from the ships, and a cry arose unquenchable, and
Patroklos called on his comrades, shouting aloud: “Myrmidons, ye
comrades of Achilles son of Peleus, be men, my friends, and be mindful
of your impetuous valour, that so we may win honour for the son of
Peleus, that is far the bravest of the Argives by the ships, and whose
close-fighting squires are the best. And let wide-ruling Agamemnon the
son of Atreus learn his own blindness of heart, in that he nothing
honoured the best of the Achaians.”
So spake he, and aroused each man’s heart and courage, and all in a
mass they fell on the Trojans, and the ships around echoed wondrously
to the cry of the Achaians. But when the Trojans beheld the strong son
of Menoitios, himself and his squire, shining in their armour, the
heart was stirred in all of them, and the companies wavered, for they
deemed that by the ships the swift-footed son of Peleus had cast away
his wrath, and chosen reconcilement: then each man glanced round, to
see where he might flee sheer destruction.
But Patroklos first with a shining spear cast straight into the press,
where most men were thronging, even by the stern of the ship of
great-hearted Protesilaos, and he smote Pyraichmes, who led his
Paionian horsemen out of Amydon, from the wide water of Axios; him he
smote on the right shoulder, and he fell on his back in the dust with a
groan, and his comrades around him, the Paionians, were afraid, for
Patroklos sent fear among them all, when he slew their leader that was
ever the best in fight. Then he drove them out from the ships, and
quenched the burning fire. And the half-burnt ship was left there, and
the Trojans fled, with a marvellous din, and the Danaans poured in
among the hollow ships, and ceaseless was the shouting. And as when
from the high crest of a great hill Zeus, the gatherer of the
lightning, hath stirred a dense cloud, and forth shine all the peaks,
and sharp promontories, and glades, and from heaven the infinite air
breaks open, even so the Danaans, having driven the blazing fire from
the ships, for a little while took breath, but there was no pause in
the battle. For not yet were the Trojans driven in utter rout by the
Achaians, dear to Ares, from the black ships, but they still stood up
against them, and only perforce gave ground from the ships. But even as
robber wolves fall on the lambs or kids, choosing them out of the
herds, when they are scattered on hills by the witlessness of the
shepherd, and the wolves behold it, and speedily harry the younglings
that have no heart of courage,—even so the Danaans fell on the Trojans,
and they were mindful of ill-sounding flight, and forgot their
impetuous valour.
But that great Aias ever was fain to cast his spear at Hector of the
helm of bronze, but he, in his cunning of war, covered his broad
shoulders with his shield of bulls’ hide, and watched the hurtling of
the arrows, and the noise of spears. And verily well he knew the change
in the mastery of war, but even so he abode, and was striving to rescue
his trusty comrades.
And as when from Olympus a cloud fares into heaven, from the sacred
air, when Zeus spreadeth forth the tempest, even so from the ships came
the war-cry and the rout, nor in order due did they cross the ditch
again. But his swift-footed horses bare Hector forth with his arms, and
he left the host of Troy, whom the delved trench restrained against
their will. And in the trench did many swift steeds that draw the car
break the fore-part of the pole, and leave the chariots of their
masters.
But Patroklos followed after, crying fiercely to the Danaans, and full
of evil will against the Trojans, while they with cries and flight
filled all the ways, for they were scattered, and on high the storm of
dust was scattered below the clouds, and the whole-hooved horses
strained back towards the city, away from the ships and the huts.
But even where Patroklos saw the folk thickest in the rout, thither did
he guide his horses with a cry, and under his axle-trees men fell prone
from their chariots, and the cars were overturned with a din of
shattering. But straight over the ditch, in forward flight, leaped the
swift horses. And the heart of Patroklos urged him against Hector, for
he was eager to smite him, but his swift steeds bore Hector forth and
away. And even as beneath a tempest the whole black earth is oppressed,
on an autumn day, when Zeus pours forth rain most vehemently, and all
the rivers run full, and many a scaur the torrents tear away, and down
to the dark sea they rush headlong from the hills, roaring mightily,
and minished are the works of men, even so mighty was the roar of the
Trojan horses as they ran.
Now Patroklos when he had cloven the nearest companies, drave them
backward again to the ships, nor suffered them to approach the city,
despite their desire, but between the ships, and the river, and the
lofty wall, he rushed on them, and slew them, and avenged many a
comrade slain. There first he smote Pronoos with a shining spear, where
the shield left bare the breast, and loosened his limbs, and he fell
with a crash. Then Thestor the son of Enops he next assailed, as he sat
crouching in the polished chariot, for he was struck distraught, and
the reins flew from his hands. Him he drew near, and smote with the
lance on the right jaw, and clean pierced through his teeth. And
Patroklos caught hold of the spear and dragged him over the rim of the
car, as when a man sits on a jutting rock, and drags a sacred fish
forth from the sea, with line and glittering hook of bronze; so on the
bright spear dragged he Thestor gaping from the chariot, and cast him
down on his face and life left him as he fell. Next, as Euryalos came
on, he smote him on the midst of the head with a stone, and all his
head was shattered within the strong helmet, and prone on the earth he
fell, and death that slayeth the spirit overwhelmed him. Next Erymas,
and Amphoteros, and Epaltes and Tlepolemos son of Damastor, and Echios
and Pyris, and Ipheus and Euippos, and Polymelos son of Argeas, all
these in turn he brought low to the bounteous earth. But when Sarpedon
beheld his comrades with ungirdled doublets, subdued beneath the hands
of Patroklos son of Menoitios, he cried aloud, upbraiding the godlike
Lykians: “Shame, ye Lykians, whither do ye flee? Now be ye strong, for
I will encounter this man that I may know who he is that conquers here,
and verily many evils hath he wrought the Trojans, in that he hath
loosened the knees of many men and noble.”
So spake he, and leaped with his arms from the chariot to the ground.
But Patroklos, on the other side, when he beheld him leaped from his
chariot. And they, like vultures of crooked talons and curved beaks,
that war with loud yells on some high cliff, even so they rushed with
cries against each other. And beholding then the son of Kronos of the
crooked counsels took pity on them, and he spake to Hera, his sister
and wife: “Ah woe is me for that it is fated that Sarpedon, the
best-beloved of men to me, shall be subdued under Patroklos son of
Menoitios. And in two ways my heart within my breast is divided, as I
ponder whether I should catch him up alive out of the tearful war, and
set him down in the rich land of Lykia, or whether I should now subdue
him beneath the hands of the son of Menoitios.”
Then the ox-eyed lady Hera made answer to him: “Most dread son of
Kronos, what word is this thou hast spoken? A mortal man long doomed to
fate dost thou desire to deliver again from death of evil name? Work
thy will, but all we other gods will in no wise praise thee. And
another thing I will tell thee, and do thou lay it up in thy heart; if
thou dost send Sarpedon living to his own house, consider lest thereon
some other god likewise desire to send his own dear son away out of the
strong battle. For round the great citadel of Priam war many sons of
the Immortals, and among the Immortals wilt thou send terrible wrath.
But if he be dear to thee, and thy heart mourns for him, truly then
suffer him to be subdued in the strong battle beneath the hands of
Patroklos son of Menoitios, but when his soul and life leave that
warrior, send Death and sweet Sleep to bear him, even till they come to
the land of wide Lykia, there will his kindred and friends bury him,
with a barrow and a pillar, for this is the due of the dead.”
So spake she, nor did the father of gods and men disregard her. But he
shed bloody raindrops on the earth, honouring his dear son, that
Patroklos was about to slay in the deep-soiled land of Troia, far off
from his own country. Now when they were come near each other in onset,
there verily did Patroklos smite the renowned Thrasymelos, the good
squire of the prince Sarpedon, on the lower part of the belly, and
loosened his limbs. But Sarpedon missed him with his shining javelin,
as he in turn rushed on, but wounded the horse Pedasos on the right
shoulder with the spear, and he shrieked as he breathed his life away,
and fell crying in the dust, and his spirit fled from him. But the
other twain reared this way and that, and the yoke creaked, and the
reins were confused on them, when their trace-horse lay in the dust.
But thereof did Automedon, the spearman renowned, find a remedy, and
drawing his long-edged sword from his stout thigh, he leaped forth, and
cut adrift the horse, with no delay, and the pair righted themselves,
and strained in the reins, and they met again in life-devouring war.
Then again Sarpedon missed with his shining dart, and the point of the
spear flew over the left shoulder of Patroklos and smote him not, but
he in turn arose with the bronze, and his javelin flew not vainly from
his hand, but struck Sarpedon even where the midriff clasps the beating
heart. And he fell as falls an oak, or a silver poplar, or a slim pine
tree, that on the hills the shipwrights fell with whetted axes, to be
timber for ship-building; even so before the horses and chariot he lay
at length, moaning aloud, and clutching at the bloody dust. And as when
a lion hath fallen on a herd, and slain a bull, tawny and high of
heart, among the kine of trailing gait, and he perishes groaning
beneath the claws of the lion, even so under Patroklos did the leader
of the Lykian shieldmen rage, even in death, and he called to his dear
comrade: “Dear Glaukos, warrior among warlike men, now most doth it
behove thee to be a spearman, and a hardy fighter: now let baneful war
be dear to thee, if indeed thou art a man of might. First fare all
about and urge on the heroes that be leaders of the Lykians, to fight
for Sarpedon, and thereafter thyself do battle for me with the sword.
For to thee even in time to come shall I be shame and disgrace for
ever, all thy days, if the Achaians strip me of mine armour, fallen in
the gathering of the ships. Nay, hold out manfully, and spur on all the
host.”
Even as he spake thus, the end of death veiled over his eyes and his
nostrils, but Patroklos, setting foot on his breast drew the spear out
of his flesh, and the midriff followed with the spear, so that he drew
forth together the spear point, and the soul of Sarpedon; and the
Myrmidons held there his panting steeds, eager to fly afar, since the
chariot was reft of its lords.
Then dread sorrow came on Glaukos, when he heard the voice of Sarpedon,
and his heart was stirred, that he availed not to succour him. And with
his hand he caught and held his arm, for the wound galled him, the
wound of the arrow wherewith, as he pressed on towards the lofty wall,
Teukros had smitten him, warding off destruction from his fellows. Then
in prayer spake Glaukos to far-darting Apollo: “Hear, O Prince that art
somewhere in the rich land of Lykia, or in Troia, for thou canst listen
everywhere to the man that is in need, as even now need cometh upon me.
For I have this stark wound, and mine arm is thoroughly pierced with
sharp pains, nor can my blood be stanched, and by the wound is my
shoulder burdened, and I cannot hold my spear firm, nor go and fight
against the enemy. And the best of men has perished, Sarpedon, the son
of Zeus, and he succours not even his own child. But do thou, O Prince,
heal me this stark wound, and lull my pains, and give me strength, that
I may call on my Lykian kinsmen, and spur them to the war, and myself
may fight about the dead man fallen.”
So spake he in his prayer, and Phoebus Apollo heard him. Straightway he
made his pains to cease, and in the grievous wound stanched the black
blood, and put courage into his heart. And Glaukos knew it within him,
and was glad, for that the great god speedily heard his prayer. First
went he all about and urged on them that were leaders of the Lykians to
fight around Sarpedon, and thereafter he went with long strides among
the Trojans, to Polydamas son of Panthoos and noble Agenor, and he went
after Aineias, and Hector of the helm of bronze, and standing by them
spake winged words: “Hector, now surely art thou utterly forgetful of
the allies, that for thy sake, far from their friends and their own
country, breathe their lives away! but thou carest not to aid them!
Sarpedon lies low, the leader of the Lykian shieldmen, he that defended
Lykia by his dooms and his might, yea him hath mailed Ares subdued
beneath the spear of Patroklos. But, friends, stand by him, and be
angry in your hearts lest the Myrmidons strip him of his harness, and
dishonour the dead, in wrath for the sake of the Danaans, even them
that perished, whom we slew with spears by the swift ships.”
So spake he, and sorrow seized the Trojans utterly, ungovernable and
not to be borne; for Sarpedon was ever the stay of their city, all a
stranger as he was, for many people followed with him, and himself the
best warrior of them all. Then they made straight for the Danaans
eagerly, and Hector led them, being wroth for Sarpedon’s sake. But the
fierce heart of Patrokloa son of Menoitios urged on the Achaians. And
he spake first to the twain Aiantes that themselves were right eager:
“Aiantes, now let defence be your desire, and be such as afore ye were
among men, or even braver yet. That man lies low who first leaped on to
the wall of the Achaians, even Sarpedon. Nay, let us strive to take
him, and work his body shame, and strip the harness from his shoulders,
and many a one of his comrades fighting for his sake let us subdue with
the pitiless bronze.”
So spake he, and they themselves were eager in defence. So on both
sides they strengthened the companies, Trojans and Lykians, Myrmidons
and Achaians, and they joined battle to fight around the dead man
fallen; terribly they shouted, and loud rang the harness of men. And as
the din ariseth of woodcutters in the glades of a mountain, and the
sound thereof is heard far away, so rose the din of them from the
wide-wayed earth, the noise of bronze and of well-tanned bulls’ hides
smitten with swords and double-pointed spears. And now not even a
clear-sighted man could any longer have known noble Sarpedon, for with
darts and blood and dust was he covered wholly from head to foot. And
ever men thronged about the dead, as in a steading flies buzz around
the full milk-pails, in the season of spring, when the milk drenches
the bowls, even so thronged they about the dead. Nor ever did Zeus turn
from the strong fight his shining eyes, but ever looked down on them,
and much in his heart he debated of the slaying of Patroklos, whether
there and then above divine Sarpedon glorious Hector should slay him
likewise in strong battle with the sword, and strip his harness from
his shoulders, or whether to more men yet he should deal sheer labour
of war. And thus to him as he pondered it seemed the better way, that
the gallant squire of Achilles, Peleus’ son, should straightway drive
the Trojans and Hector of the helm of bronze towards the city, and
should rob many of their life. And in Hector first he put a weakling
heart, and leaping into his car Hector turned in flight, and cried on
the rest of the Trojans to flee, for he knew the turning of the sacred
scales of Zeus. Thereon neither did the strong Lykians abide, but fled
all in fear, when they beheld their king stricken to the heart, lying
in the company of the dead, for many had fallen above him, when Kronion
made fierce the fight. Then the others stripped from the shoulders of
Sarpedon his shining arms of bronze, and these the strong son of
Menoitios gave to his comrades to bear to the hollow ships. Then Zeus
that gathereth the clouds spake to Apollo: “Prithee, dear Phoebus, go
take Sarpedon out of range of darts, and cleanse the black blood from
him, and thereafter bear him far away, and bathe him in the streams of
the river, and anoint him with ambrosia, and clothe him in garments
that wax not old, and send him to be wafted by fleet convoy, by the
twin brethren Sleep and Death, that quickly will set him in the rich
land of wide Lykia. There will his kinsmen and clansmen give him
burial, with barrow and pillar, for such is the due of the dead.”
So spake he, nor was Apollo disobedient to his father. He went down the
hills of Ida to the dread battle din, and straight way bore goodly
Sarpedon out of the darts, and carried him far away and bathed him in
the streams of the river, and anointed him with ambrosia, and clad him
in garments that wax not old, and sent him to be wafted by fleet
convoy, the twin brethren Sleep and Death, that swiftly set him down in
the rich land of wide Lykia. But Patroklos cried to his horses and
Automedon, and after the Trojans and Lykians went he, and so was
blindly forgetful, in his witlessness, for if he had kept the saying of
the son of Peleus, verily he should have escaped the evil fate of black
death. But ever is the wit of Zeus stronger than the wit of men, so now
he roused the spirit of Patroklos in his breast. There whom first, whom
last didst thou slay, Patroklos, when the gods called thee deathward?
Adrestos first, and Autonoos, and Echeklos, and Perimos, son of Megas,
and Epistor, and Melanippos, and thereafter Elasos, and Moulios, and
Pylartes; these he slew, but the others were each man of them fain of
flight. Then would the sons of the Achaians have taken high-gated Troy,
by the hands of Patroklos, for around and before him he raged with the
spear, but that Phoebus Apollo stood on the well-builded wall, with
baneful thoughts towards Patroklos, and succouring the Trojans. Thrice
clomb Patroklos on the corner of the lofty wall, and thrice did Apollo
force him back and smote the shining shield with his immortal hands.
But when for the fourth time he came on like a god, then cried
far-darting Apollo terribly, and spake winged words: “Give back,
Patroklos of the seed of Zeus! Not beneath thy spear is it fated that
the city of the valiant Trojans shall fall, nay nor beneath Achilles, a
man far better than thou.”
So spake he, and Patroklos retreated far back, avoiding the wrath of
far-darting Apollo. But Hector within the Skaian gates was restraining
his whole-hooved horses, pondering whether he should drive again into
the din and fight, or should call unto the host to gather to the wall.
While thus he was thinking, Phoebus Apollo stood by him in the guise of
a young man and a strong, Asios, who was the mother’s brother of
horse-taming Hector, being own brother of Hekabe, and son of Dymas, who
dwelt in Phrygia, on the streams of Sangarios. In his guise spake
Apollo, son of Zeus, to Hector: “Hector, wherefore dost thou cease from
fight? It doth not behove thee. Would that I were as much stronger than
thou as I am weaker, thereon quickly shouldst thou stand aloof from war
to thy hurt. But come, turn against Patroklos thy strong-hooved horses,
if perchance thou mayst slay him, and Apollo give thee glory.”
So spake the god, and went back again into the moil of men. But
renowned Hector bade wise-hearted Kebriones to lash his horses into the
war. Then Apollo went and passed into the press, and sent a dread panic
among the Argives, but to the Trojans and Hector gave he renown. And
Hector let the other Argives be, and slew none of them, but against
Patroklos he turned his strong-hooved horses, and Patroklos on the
other side leaped from his chariot to the ground, with a spear in his
left hand, and in his other hand grasped a shining jagged stone, that
his hand covered. Firmly he planted himself and hurled it, nor long did
he shrink from his foe, nor was his cast in vain, but he struck
Kebriones the charioteer of Hector, the bastard son of renowned Priam,
on the brow with the sharp stone, as he held the reins of the horses.
Both his brows the stone drave together, and his bone held not, but his
eyes fell to the ground in the dust, there, in front of his feet. Then
he, like a diver, fell from the well-wrought car, and his spirit left
his bones. Then taunting him didst thou address him, knightly
Patroklos: “Out on it, how nimble a man, how lightly he diveth! Yea, if
perchance he were on the teeming deep, this man would satisfy many by
seeking for oysters, leaping from the ship, even if it were stormy
weather, so lightly now he diveth from the chariot into the plain.
Verily among the Trojans too there be diving men.”
So speaking he set on the hero Kebriones with the rush of a lion, that
while wasting the cattle-pens is smitten in the breast, and his own
valour is his bane, even so against Kebriones, Patroklos, didst thou
leap furiously. But Hector, on the other side, leaped from his chariot
to the ground. And these twain strove for Kebriones like lions, that on
the mountain peaks fight, both hungering, both high of heart, for a
slain hind. Even so for Kebriones’ sake these two masters of the
war-cry, Patroklos son of Menoitios, and renowned Hector, were eager
each to hew the other’s flesh with the ruthless bronze.
Hector then seized him by the head, and slackened not hold, while
Patroklos on the other side grasped him by the foot, and thereon the
others, Trojans and Danaans, joined strong battle. And as the East wind
and the South contend with one another in shaking a deep wood in the
dells of a mountain, shaking beech, and ash, and smooth-barked cornel
tree, that clash against each other their long boughs with marvellous
din, and a noise of branches broken, so the Trojans and Achaians were
leaping on each other and slaying, nor had either side any thought of
ruinous flight. And many sharp darts were fixed around Kebriones, and
winged arrows leaping from the bow-string, and many mighty stones smote
the shields of them that fought around him. But he in the whirl of dust
lay mighty and mightily fallen, forgetful of his chivalry.
Now while the sun was going about mid-heaven, so long the darts smote
either side, and the host fell, but when the sun turned to the time of
the loosing of oxen, lo, then beyond their doom the Achaians proved the
better. The hero Kebriones drew they forth from the darts, out of the
tumult of the Trojans, and stripped the harness from his shoulders, and
with ill design against the Trojans, Patroklos rushed upon them. Three
times then rushed he on, peer of swift Ares, shouting terribly, and
thrice he slew nine men. But when the fourth time he sped on like a
god, thereon to thee, Patroklos, did the end of life appear, for
Phoebus met thee in the strong battle, in dreadful wise. And Patroklos
was not ware of him coming through the press, for hidden in thick mist
did he meet him, and stood behind him, and smote his back and broad
shoulders with a down-stroke of his hand, and his eyes were dazed. And
from his head Phoebus Apollo smote the helmet that rolled rattling away
with a din beneath the hooves of the horses, the helm with upright
socket, and the crests were defiled with blood and dust. And all the
long-shadowed spear was shattered in the hands of Patroklos, the spear
great and heavy and strong, and sharp, while from his shoulders the
tasselled shield with the baldric fell to the ground.
And the prince Apollo, son of Zeus, loosed his corslet, and blindness
seized his heart and his shining limbs were unstrung, and he stood in
amaze, and at close quarters from behind a Dardanian smote him on the
back, between the shoulders, with a sharp spear, even Euphorbos, son of
Panthoos, who excelled them of his age in casting the spear, and in
horsemanship, and in speed of foot. Even thus, verily, had he cast down
twenty men from their chariots, though then first had he come with his
car to learn the lesson of war. He it was that first smote a dart into
thee, knightly Patroklos, nor overcame thee, but ran back again and
mingled with the throng, first drawing forth from the flesh his ashen
spear, nor did he abide the onset of Patroklos, unarmed as he was, in
the strife. But Patroklos, being overcome by the stroke of the god, and
by the spear, gave ground, and retreated to the host of his comrades,
avoiding Fate. But Hector, when he beheld great-hearted Patroklos give
ground, being smitten with the keen bronze, came nigh unto him through
the ranks, and wounded him with a spear, in the lowermost part of the
belly, and drave the bronze clean through. And he fell with a crash,
and sorely grieved the host of Achaians. And as when a lion hath
overcome in battle an untiring boar, they twain fighting with high
heart on the crests of a hill, about a little well, and both are
desirous to drink, and the lion hath by force overcome the boar that
draweth difficult breath; so after that he had slain many did Hector
son of Priam take the life away from the strong son of Menoitios,
smiting him at close quarters with the spear; and boasting over him he
spake winged words: “Patroklos, surely thou saidst that thou wouldst
sack my town, and from Trojan women take away the day of freedom, and
bring them in ships to thine own dear country: fool! nay, in front of
these were the swift horses of Hector straining their speed for the
fight; and myself in wielding the spear excel among the war-loving
Trojans, even I who ward from them the day of destiny: but thee shall
vultures here devour. Ah, wretch, surely Achilles for all his valour,
availed thee not, who straitly charged thee as thou camest, he abiding
there, saying, ‘Come not to me, Patroklos lord of steeds, to the hollow
ships, till thou hast torn the gory doublet of man-slaying Hector about
his breast;’ so, surely, he spake to thee, and persuaded the wits of
thee in thy witlessness.”
Then faintly didst thou answer him, knightly Patroklos: “Boast greatly,
as now, Hector, for to thee have Zeus, son of Kronos, and Apollo given
the victory, who lightly have subdued me; for themselves stripped my
harness from my shoulders. But if twenty such as thou had encountered
me, here had they all perished, subdued beneath my spear. But me have
ruinous Fate and the son of Leto slain, and of men Euphorbos, but thou
art the third in my slaying. But another thing will I tell thee, and do
thou lay it up in thy heart: verily thou thyself art not long to live,
but already doth Death stand hard by thee, and strong Fate, that thou
art to be subdued by the hands of noble Achilles, of the seed of
Aiakos.”
Even as so he spake the end of death overshadowed him. And his soul,
fleeting from his limbs, went down to the house of Hades, wailing its
own doom, leaving manhood and youth.
Then renowned Hector spake to him even in his death: “Patroklos,
wherefore to me dolt thou prophesy sheer destruction? who knows but
that Achilles, the child of fair-tressed Thetis, will first be smitten
by my spear, and lose his life?”
So spake he, and drew the spear of bronze from the wound, setting his
foot on the dead, and cast him off on his back from the spear. And
straightway with the spear he went after Automedon, the godlike squire
of the swift-footed Aiakides, for he was eager to smite him; but his
swift-footed immortal horses bare him out of the battle, horses that
the gods gave to Peleus, a splendid gift.