Iliad

Not wine, nor feasts, could lay their soft chains on old Nestor's ear

To this high clamour, who requir'd Machaon's thoughts to bear

His care in part, about the cause; “For, methink, still,” said he,

“The cry increases. I must needs the watchtow'r mount, to see

Which way the flood of war doth drive. Still drink thou wine, and eat,

Till fair-hair'd Hecamed hath giv'n a little water heat

To cleanse the quitture from thy wound.” This said, the goodly shield

Of warlike Thrasymed, his son, who had his own in field,

He took, snatch'd up a mighty lance, and so stept forth to view

Cause of that clamour. Instantly th' unworthy cause he knew,

The Grecians wholly put in rout, the Trojans routing still,

Close at the Greeks' backs, their wall raz'd. The old man mourn'd this ill;

And, as when with unwieldy waves the great sea fore-feels winds

That both ways murmur, and no way her certain current finds,

But pants and swells confusedly, here goes, and there will stay,

Till on it air casts one firm wind, and then it rolls away;

So stood old Nestor in debate, two thoughts at once on wing

In his discourse, if first to take direct course to the king,

Or to the multitude in fight. At last he did conclude

To visit Agamemnon first. Mean time both hosts imbrued

Their steel in one another's blood, nought wrought their healths but harms,

Swords, huge stones, double-headed darts, still thumping on their arms.

And now the Jove-kept kings, whose wounds were yet in cure, did meet

Old Nestor, Diomed, Ithacus, and Atreus' sons, from fleet

Bent for the fight which was far off, the ships being drawn to shore

On heaps at first, till all their sterns a wall was rais'd before,

Which, though not great, it yet suffic'd to hide them, though their men

Were something straited; for whose scope, in form of battle then,

They drew them through the spacious shore, one by another still,

Till all the bosom of the strand their sable bulks did fill,

Ev'n till they took up all the space 'twixt both the promont'ries.

These kings, like Nestor, in desire to know for what those cries

Became so violent, came along, all leaning on their darts,

To see, though not of pow'r to fight, sad and suspicious hearts

Distemp'ring them; and, meeting now Nestor, the king in fear

Cried out: “O Nestor our renown! Why shows thy presence here,

The harmful fight abandoned? Now Hector will make good

The threat'ning vow he made, I fear, that, till he had our blood,

And fir'd our fleet, he never more would turn to Ilion.

Nor is it long, I see, before his whole will will be done.

O Gods! I now see all the Greeks put on Achilles' ire

Against my honour; no mean left to keep our fleet from fire.”

He answer'd: “'Tis an evident truth, not Jove himself can now,

With all the thunder in his hands, prevent our overthrow.

The wall we thought invincible, and trusted more than Jove,

Is scal'd, raz'd, enter'd; and our pow'rs (driv'n up) past breathing, prove

A most inevitable fight; both slaughters so commix'd,

That for your life you cannot put your diligent'st thought betwixt

The Greeks and Trojans, and as close their throats cleave to the sky.

Consult we then, if that will serve. For fight advise not I;

It fits not wounded men to fight.” Atrides answer'd him:

“If such a wall as cost the Greeks so many a tiréd limb,

And such a dike be pass'd, and raz'd, that, as yourself said well,

We all esteem'd invincible, and would past doubt repell

The world from both our fleet and us; it doth directly show

That here Jove vows our shames and deaths. I evermore did know

His hand from ours when he help'd us, and now I see as clear

That, like the blesséd Gods, he holds our hated enemies dear,

Supports their arms, and pinions ours. Conclude then, 'tis in vain

To strive with him. Our ships drawn up, now let us launch again,

And keep at anchor till calm night, that then, perhaps, our foes

May calm their storms, and in that time our scape we may dispose.

'It is not any shame to fly from ill, although by night.

Known ill he better does that flies, than he it takes in fight.'”

Ulysses frown'd on him, and said: “Accurs'd, why talk'st thou thus?

Would thou hadst led some barb'rous host, and not commanded us

Whom Jove made soldiers from our youth, that age might scorn to fly

From any charge it undertakes, and ev'ry dazzled eye

The honour'd hand of war might close. Thus wouldst thou leave this town,

For which our many mis'ries felt entitle it our own?

Peace, lest some other Greek give ear, and hear a sentence such;

As no man's palate should profane; at least that knew how much

His own right weigh'd, and being a prince, and such a prince as bears

Rule of so many Greeks as thou. This counsel loathes mine ears,

Let others toil in fight and cries, and we so light of heels

Upon their very noise, and groans, to hoise away our keels.

Thus we should fit the wish of Troy, that, being something near

The victory, we give it clear; and we were sure to bear

A slaughter to the utmost man, for no man will sustain

A stroke, the fleet gone, but at that, look still, and wish him slain.

And therefore, prince of men, be sure, thy censure is unfit.”

“O Ithacus,” replied the king, “thy bitter terms have smit

My heart in sunder. At no hand, 'gainst any prince's will

Do I command this. Would to God, that any man of skill

To give a better counsel would, or old, or younger man!

My voice should gladly go with his.” Then Diomed began:

“The man not far is, nor shall ask much labour to bring in,

That willingly would speak his thoughts, if spoken they might win

Fit ear, and suffer no impair, that I discover them,

Being youngest of you; since my sire, that heir'd a diadem,

May make my speech to diadems decent enough, though he

Lies in his sepulchre at Thebes. I boast this pedigree:

Portheus three famous sons begot, that in high Calydon

And Pleuron kept, with state of kings, their habitatión;

Agrius, Melas, and the third the horseman Oeneus,

My father's father, that excell'd in actions generous

The other two. But these kept home, my father being driv'n

With wand'ring and advent'rous spirits, for so the King of heav'n

And th' other Gods set down their wills, and he to Argos came,

Where he begun the world, and dwelt. There marrying a dame,

One of Adrastus' female race, he kept a royal house,

For he had great demesnes, good land, and, being industrious,

He planted many orchard-grounds about his house, and bred

Great store of sheep. Besides all this, he was well qualitied,

And pass'd all Argives, for his spear. And these digressive things

Are such as you may well endure, since (being deriv'd from kings,

And kings not poor nor virtueless) you cannot hold me base,

Nor scorn my words, which oft, though true, in mean men meet disgrace.

However, they are these in short: Let us be seen at fight,

And yield to strong necessity, though wounded, that our sight

May set those men on that, of late, have to Achilles' spleen

Been too indulgent, and left blows; but be we only seen,

Not come within the reach of darts, lest wound on wound we lay;

Which rev'rend Nestor's speech implied, and so far him obey.”

This counsel gladly all observ'd, went on, Atrides led.

Nor Neptune this advantage lost, but closely followéd,

And like an aged man appear'd t' Atrides; whose right hand

He seiz'd, and said: “Atrides, this doth passing fitly stand

With stern Achilles' wreakful spirit, that he can stand astern

His ship, and both in fight and death the Grecian bane discern,

Since not in his breast glows one spark of any human mind.

But be that his own bane. Let God by that loss make him find

How vile a thing he is. For know, the blest Gods have not giv'n

Thee ever over, but perhaps the Trojans may from heav'n

Receive that justice. Nay, 'tis sure, and thou shalt see their falls,

Your fleet soon freed, and for fights here they glad to take their walls.”

This said, he made known who he was, and parted with a cry

As if ten thousand men had join'd in battle then, so high

His throat flew through the host; and so this great Earth-shaking God

Cheer'd up the Greek hearts, that they wish their pains no period.

Saturnia from Olympus' top saw her great brother there,

And her great husband's brother too, exciting ev'rywhere

The glorious spirits of the Greeks; which as she joy'd to see,

So, on the fountful Ida's top, Jove's sight did disagree

With her contentment, since she fear'd that his hand would descend,

And check the Sea-god's practices. And this she did contend

How to prevent, which thus seem'd best: To deck her curiously,

And visit the Idalian hill, that so the Lightner's eye

She might enamour with her looks, and his high temples steep,

Ev'n to his wisdom, in the kind and golden juice of sleep.

So took she chamber, which her son, the God of ferrary,

With firm doors made, being joinèd close, and with a privy key

That no God could command but Jove; where, enter'd, she made fast

The shining gates, and then upon her lovely body cast

Ambrosia, that first made it clear, and after laid on it

An od'rous, rich, and sacred oil, that was so wond'rous sweet

That ever, when it was but touch'd, it sweeten'd heav'n and earth.

Her body being cleans'd with this, her tresses she let forth,

And comb'd, her comb dipp'd in the oil, then wrapp'd them up in curls;

And, thus her deathless head adorn'd, a heav'nly veil she hurls

On her white shoulders, wrought by Her that rules in housewif'ries,

Who wove it full of antique works, of most divine device;

And this with goodly clasps of gold she fasten'd to her breast.

Then with a girdle, whose rich sphere a hundred studs impress'd,

She girt her small waist. In her ears, tenderly pierc'd, she wore

Pearls, great and orient. On her head, a wreath not worn before

Cast beams out like the sun. At last, she to her feet did tie

Fair shoes. And thus entire attir'd, she shin'd in open sky,

Call'd the fair Paphian Queen apart from th' other Gods, and said:

“Lov'd daughter! Should I ask a grace, should I, or be obey'd?

Or wouldst thou cross me, being incens'd, since I cross thee and take

The Greeks' part, thy hand helping Troy?” She answer'd, “That shall make

No diff'rence in a diff'rent cause. Ask, ancient Deity,

What most contents thee. My mind stands inclin'd as liberally

To grant it as thine own to ask; provided that it be

A favour fit and in my pow'r.” She, giv'n deceitfully,

Thus said: “Then give me those two pow'rs, with which both men and Gods

Thou vanquishest, Love and Desire; for now the periods

Of all the many-feeding earth, and the original

Of all the Gods, Oceanus, and Thetis whom we call

Our Mother, I am going to greet. They nurst me in their court,

And brought me up, receiving me in most respectful sort

From Phæa, when Jove under earth and the unfruitful seas

Cast Saturn. These I go to see, intending to appease

Jars grown betwixt them, having long abstain'd from speech and bed;

Which jars, could I so reconcile, that in their anger's stead

I could place love, and so renew their first society,

I should their best lov'd be esteem'd, and honour'd endlessly.”

She answer'd: “'Tis not fit, nor just, thy will should be denied,

Whom Jove in his embraces holds.” This spoken, she untied,

And from her od'rous bosom took, her Ceston, in whose sphere

Were all enticements to delight, all loves, all longings were,

Kind conference, fair speech, whose pow'r the wisest doth inflame.

This she resigning to her hands, thus urg'd her by her name:

“Receive this bridle, thus fair-wrought, and put it 'twixt thy breasts,

Where all things to be done are done; and whatsoever rests

In thy desire return with it.” The great-ey'd Juno smil'd,

And put it 'twixt her breasts. Love's Queen, thus cunningly beguil'd,

To Jove's court flew. Saturnia, straight stooping from heav'n's height,

Pieria and Emathia, those countries of delight,

Soon reach'd, and to the snowy mounts, where Thracian soldiers dwell,

Approaching, pass'd their tops untouch'd. From Athos then she fell,

Pass'd all the broad sea, and arriv'd in Lemnos, at the tow'rs

Of godlike Thoas, where she met the Prince of all men's pow'rs,

Death's brother, Sleep; whose hand she took, and said: “Thou king of men,

Prince of the Gods too, if before thou heard'st my suits, again

Give helpful ear, and through all times I'll offer thanks to thee.

Lay slumber on Jove's fi'ry eyes, that I may comfort me

With his embraces; for which grace I'll grace thee with a throne

Incorruptible, all of gold, and elegantly done

By Mulciber, to which he forg'd a footstool for the ease

Of thy soft feet, when wine and feasts thy golden humours please.”

Sweet Sleep replied: “Satunia, there lives not any God,

Besides Jove, but I would becalm; aye if it were the Flood,

That fathers all the Deities, the great Oceanus;

But Jove we dare not come more near, than he commandeth us.

Now you command me as you did, when Jove's great-minded son,

Alcides, having sack'd the town of stubborn Ilion,

Took sail from thence; when by your charge I pour'd about Jove's mind

A pleasing slumber, calming him, till thou drav'st up the wind,

In all his cruelties, to sea, that set his son ashore

In Cous, far from all his friends. Which, waking, vex'd so sore

The supreme Godhead, that he cast the Gods about the sky,

And me, above them all, he sought, whom he had utterly

Hurl'd from the sparkling firmament, if all-gods-taming Night

(Whom, flying, I besought for aid) had suffer'd his despite,

And not preserv'd me; but his wrath with my offence dispens'd,

For fear t' offend her, and so ceas'd, though never so incens'd.

And now another such escape, you wish I should prepare.”

She answer'd: “What hath thy deep rest to do with his deep care?

As though Jove's love to Ilion in all degrees were such

As 'twas to Hercules his son, and so would storm as much

For their displeasure as for his? Away, I will remove

Thy fear with giving thee the dame, that thou didst ever love,

One of the fair young Graces born, divine Pasithae.”

This started Somnus into joy, who answer'd: “Swear to me,

By those inviolable springs, that feed the Stygian lake,

With one hand touch the nourishing earth, and in the other take

The marble sea, that all the Gods, of the infernal state,

Which circle Saturn, may to us be witnesses, and rate

What thou hast vow'd; That with all truth, thou wilt bestow on me,

The dame I grant I ever lov'd, divine Pasithae.”

She swore, as he enjoin'd, in all, and strengthen'd all his joys

By naming all th' infernal Gods, surnam'd the Titanois.

The oath thus taken, both took way, and made their quick repair

To Ida from the town, and isle, all hid in liquid air.

At Lecton first they left the sea, and there the land they trod;

The fountful nurse of savages, with all her woods, did nod

Beneath their feet; there Somnus stay'd, lest Jove's bright eye should see,

And yet, that he might see to Jove, he climb'd the goodliest tree

That all th' Idalian mountain bred, and crown'd her progeny,

A fir it was, that shot past air, and kiss'd the burning sky;

There sate he hid in his dark arms, and in the shape with all

Of that continual prating bird, whom all the Deities call

Chalcis, but men Cymmindis name. Saturnia tripp'd apace,

Up to the top of Gargarus, and show'd her heav'nly face

To Jupiter, who saw, and lov'd, and with as hot a fire,

Being curious in her tempting view, as when with first desire

(The pleasure of it being stol'n) they mix'd in love and bed;

And, gazing on her still, he said: “Saturnia, what hath bred

This haste in thee from our high court, and whither tends thy gait,

That void of horse and chariot, fit for thy sov'reign state,

Thou lackiest here?” Her studied fraud replied: “My journey now

Leaves state and labours to do good; and where in right I owe

All kindness to the Sire of Gods, and our good Mother Queen

That nurst and kept me curiously in court (since both have been

Long time at discord) my desire is to atone their hearts;

And therefore go I now to see those earth's extremest parts.

For whose far-seat I spar'd my horse the scaling of this hill,

And left them at the foot of it; for they must taste their fill

Of travail with me, and must draw my coach through earth and seas,

Whose far-intended reach, respect, and care not to displease

Thy graces, made me not attempt, without thy gracious leave.”

The cloud-compelling God her guile in this sort did receive:

“Juno, thou shalt have after leave, but, ere so far thou stray,

Convert we our kind thoughts to love, that now doth ev'ry way

Circle with victory my pow'rs, nor yet with any dame,

Woman, or Goddess, did his fires my bosom so inflame

As now with thee. Not when it lov'd the parts so generous

Ixion's wife had, that brought forth the wise Pirithous;

Nor when the lovely dame Acrisius' daughter stirr'd

My amorous pow'rs, that Perseus bore to all men else preferr'd;

Nor when the dame, that Phenix got, surpris'd me with her sight,

Who the divine-soul'd Rhadamanth and Minos brought to light;

Nor Semele, that bore to me the joy of mortal men,

The sprightly Bacchus; nor the dame that Thebes renownéd then,

Alcmena, that bore Hercules; Latona, so renown'd;

Queen Ceres, with the golden hair; nor thy fair eyes did wound

My entrails to such depth as now with thirst of amorous ease.”

The cunning Dame seem'd much incens'd, and said: “What words are these,

Unsufferable Saturn's son? What! Here! In Ida's height!

Desir'st thou this? How fits it us? Or what if in the sight

Of any God thy will were pleas'd, that he the rest might bring

To witness thy incontinence? 'Twere a dishonour'd thing.

I would not show my face in heav'n, and rise from such a bed.

But, if love be so dear to thee, thou hast a chamberstead,

Which Vulcan purposely contriv'd with all fit secrecy;

There sleep at pleasure.” He replied: “I fear not if the eye

Of either God or man observe, so thick a cloud of gold

I'll cast about us that the sun, who furthest can behold,

Shall never find us.” This resolv'd, into his kind embrace

He took his wife. Beneath them both fair Tellus strew'd the place

With fresh-sprung herbs, so soft and thick that up aloft it bore

Their heav'nly bodies; with his leaves, did dewy lotus store

Th' Elysian mountain; saffron flow'rs and hyacinths help'd make

The sacred bed; and there they slept. When suddenly there brake

A golden vapour out of air, whence shining dews did fall,

In which they wrapt them close, and slept till Jove was tam'd withal.

Mean space flew Somnus to the ships, found Neptune out, and said:

“Now cheerfully assist the Greeks; and give them glorious head,

At least a little, while Jove sleeps; of whom through ev'ry limb

I pour'd dark sleep, Saturnia's love hath so illuded him.”

This news made Neptune more secure in giving Grecians heart,

And through the first fights thus he stirr'd the men of most desert:

“Yet, Grecians, shall we put our ships, and conquest, in the hands

Of Priam's Hector by our sloth? He thinks so, and commands

With pride according; all because, Achilles keeps away.

Alas, as we were nought but him! We little need to stay

On his assistance, if we would our own strengths call to field,

And mutually maintain repulse. Come on then, all men yield

To what I order. We that bear best arms in all our hosts,

Whose heads sustain the brightest helms, whose hands are bristled most

With longest lances, let us on. But stay, I'll lead you all;

Nor think I but great Hector's spirits will suffer some appall,

Though they be never so inspir'd. The ablest of us then,

That on our shoulders worst shields bear, exchange with worser men

That fight with better.” This propos'd, all heard it, and obey'd.

The kings, ev'n those that suffer'd wounds, Ulysses, Diomed,

And Agamemnon, helpt t' instruct the cómplete army thus:

To good gave good arms, worse to worse, yet none were mutinous.

Thus, arm'd with order, forth they flew; the great Earth-shaker led,

A long sword in his sinewy hand, which when he brandishéd

It lighten'd still, there was no law for him and it, poor men

Must quake before them. These thus mann'd, illustrious Hector then

His host brought up. The blue-hair'd God and he stretch'd through the prease

A grievous fight; when to the ships and tents of Greece the seas

Brake loose, and rag'd. But when they join'd, the dreadful clamour rose

To such a height, as not the sea, when up the North-spirit blows

Her raging billows, bellows so against the beaten shore;

Nor such a rustling keeps a fire, driven with violent blore

Through woods that grow against a hill; nor so the fervent strokes

Of almost-bursting winds resound against a grove of oaks;

As did the clamour of these hosts, when both the battles clos'd.

Of all which noble Hector first at Ajax' breast dispos'd

His jav'lin, since so right on him the great-soul'd soldier bore;

Nor miss'd it, but the bawdricks both that his broad bosom wore,

To hang his shield and sword, it strook; both which his flesh preserv'd.

Hector, disdaining that his lance had thus as good as swerv'd,

Trode to his strength; but, going off, great Ajax with a stone,

One of the many props for ships, that there lay trampled on,

Strook his broad breast above his shield, just underneath his throat,

And shook him piecemeal; when the stone sprung back again, and smote

Earth, like a whirlwind, gath'ring dust with whirring fiercely round,

For fervour of his unspent strength, in settling on the ground.

And as when Jove's bolt by the roots rends from the earth an oak,

His sulphur casting with the blow a strong unsavoury smoke,

And on the fall'n plant none dare look but with amazéd eyes,

(Jove's thunder being no laughing game) so bow'd strong Hector's thighs,

And so with tost-up heels he fell, away his lance he flung,

His round shield follow'd, then his helm, and out his armour rung.

The Greeks then shouted, and ran in, and hop'd to hale him off,

And therefore pour'd on darts in storms, to keep his aid aloof;

But none could hurt the people's Guide, nor stir him from his ground;

Sarpedon, prince of Lycia, and Glaucus so renown'd,

Divine Agenor, Venus' son, and wise Polydamas,

Rush'd to his rescue, and the rest. No one neglective was

Of Hector's safety. All their shields, they couch'd about him close,

Rais'd him from earth, and (giving him, in their kind arms, repose)

From off the labour carried him, to his rich chariot,

And bore him mourning towards Troy. But when the flood they got

Of gulfy Xanthus, that was got by deathless Jupiter,

There took they him from chariot, and all besprinkled there

His temples with the stream. He breath'd, look'd up, assay'd to rise,

And on his knees stay'd spitting blood. Again then clos'd his eyes,

And back again his body fell. The main blow had not done

Yet with his spirit. When the Greeks saw worthy Hector gone,

Then thought they of their work, then charg'd with much more cheer the foe,

And then, far first, Oïliades began the overthrow.

He darted Satnius Enops' son, whom famous Nais bore

As she was keeping Enops' flocks on Satnius' river's shore,

And strook him in his belly's rim, who upwards fell, and rais'd

A mighty skirmish with his fall. And then Panthœdés seiz'd

Prothenor Areilycides, with his revengeful spear,

On his right shoulder, strook it through, and laid him breathless there;

For which he insolently bragg'd, and cried out: “Not a dart

From great-soul'd Panthus' son, I think, shall ever vainlier part,

But some Greek's bosom it shall take, and make him give his ghost.”

This brag the Grecians stomach'd much; but Telamonius most,

Who stood most near Prothenor's fall, and out he sent a lance,

Which Panthus' son, declining, 'scap'd, yet took it to sad chance

Archilochus, Antenor's son, whom heav'n did destinate

To that stern end; 'twixt neck and head the jav'lin wrought his fate,

And ran in at the upper joint of all the back long bone,

Cut both the nerves; and such a load of strength laid Ajax on,

As that small part he seiz'd outweigh'd all th' under limbs, and strook

His heels up, so that head and face the earth's possessions took,

When all the low parts sprung in air; and thus did Ajax quit

Panthœdes' brave: “Now, Panthus' son, let thy prophetic wit

Consider, and disclose a truth, if this man do not weigh

Ev'n with Prothenor. I conceive, no one of you will say

That either he was base himself, or sprung of any base;

Antenor's brother, or his son, he should be by his face;

One of his race, past question, his likeness shows he is,”

This spake he, knowing it well enough. The Trojans storm'd at this,

And then slew Acamas, to save his brother yet engag'd,

Bœotius, dragging him to spoil; and thus the Greeks enrag'd:

“O Greeks, ev'n born to bear our darts, yet ever breathing threats,

Not always under tears and toils ye see our fortune sweats,

But sometimes you drop under death. See now your quick among

Our dead, intranc'd with my weak lance, to prove I have ere long

Reveng'd my brother. 'Tis the wish of ev'ry honest man

His brother, slain in Mars's field, may rest wreak'd in his fane.”

This stirr'd fresh envy in the Greeks, but urg'd Peneleus most,

Who hurl'd his lance at Acamas; he 'scap'd; nor yet it lost

The force he gave it, for it found the flock-rich Phorbas' son,

Ilionëus, whose dear sire, past all in Ilion,

Was lov'd of Hermes, and enrich'd, and to him only bore

His mother this now slaughter'd man. The dart did undergore

His eye-lid, by his eye's dear roots, and out the apple fell,

The eye pierc'd through. Nor could the nerve that stays the neck repell

His strong-wing'd lance, but neck and all gave way, and down he dropp'd.

Peneleus then unsheath'd his sword, and from the shoulders chopp'd

His luckless head; which down he threw, the helm still sticking on,

And still the lance fix'd in his eye; which not to see alone

Contented him, but up again he snatch'd, and show'd it all,

With this stern brave: “Ilians, relate brave Ilionëus' fall

To his kind parents, that their roofs their tears may overrun;

For so the house of Promachus, and Alegenor's son,

Must with his wife's eyes overflow, she never seeing more

Her dear lord, though we tell his death, when to our native shore

We bring from ruin'd Troy our fleet, and men so long forgone.”

This said, and seen, pale fear possess'd all those of Ilion,

And ev'ry man cast round his eye to see where death was not,

That he might fly him. Let not then his grac'd hand be forgot,

O Muses, you that dwell in heav'n, that first imbru'd the field

With Trojan spoil, when Neptune thus had made their irons yield.

First Ajax Telamonius the Mysian captain slew,

Great Hyrtius Gyrtiades. Antilochus o'erthrew

Phalces and Mermer, to their spoil. Meriones gave end

To Morys and Hyppotion. Teucer to fate did send

Prothoon and Periphetes. Atrides' jav'lin chac'd

Duke Hyperenor, wounding him in that part that is plac'd

Betwixt the short ribs and the bones, that to the triple gut

Have pertinence; the jav'lin's head did out his entrails cut,

His forc'd soul breaking through the wound; night's black hand clos'd his eyes.

Then Ajax, great Oïleus' son, had divers victories,

For when Saturnius suffer'd flight, of all the Grecian race

Not one with swiftness of his feet could so enrich a chace.