The Fall of Troy [52]
The barren sea-plain from its nethermost floor, And darkling to the strand roll roaring waves Belching sea-tangle from the bursting surf, And wild sounds rise from beaches harvestless; So, as they charged, the wide earth rang again.
Now from their rampart forth the Argives poured Round godlike Agamemnon. Rang their shouts Cheering each other on to face the fight, And not to cower beside the ships in dread Of onset-shouts of battle-eager foes. They met those charging hosts with hearts as light As calves bear, when they leap to meet the kine Down faring from hill-pastures in the spring Unto the steading, when the fields are green With corn-blades, when the earth is glad with flowers, And bowls are brimmed with milk of kine and ewes, And multitudinous lowing far and near Uprises as the mothers meet their young, And in their midst the herdman joys; so great Was the uproar that rose when met the fronts Of battle: dread it rang on either hand. Hard-strained was then the fight: incarnate Strife Stalked through the midst, with Slaughter ghastly-faced. Crashed bull-hide shields, and spears, and helmet-crests Meeting: the brass flashed out like leaping flames. Bristled the battle with the lances; earth Ran red with blood, as slaughtered heroes fell And horses, mid a tangle of shattered ears, Some yet with spear-wounds gasping, while on them Others were falling. Through the air upshrieked An awful indistinguishable roar; For on both hosts fell iron-hearted Strife. Here were men hurling cruel jagged stones, There speeding arrows and new-whetted darts, There with the axe or twibill hewing hard, Slashing with swords, and thrusting out with spears: Their mad hands clutched all manner of tools of death.
At first the Argives bore the ranks of Troy Backward a little; but they rallied, charged, Leapt on the foe, and drenched the field with blood. Like a black hurricane rushed Eurypylus Cheering his men on, hewing Argives down Awelessly: measureless might was lent to him By Zeus, for a grace to glorious Hercules. Nireus, a man in beauty like the Gods, His spear long-shafted stabbed beneath the ribs, Down on the plain he fell, forth streamed the blood Drenching his splendid arms, drenching the form Glorious of mould, and his thick-clustering hair. There mid the slain in dust and blood he lay, Like a young lusty olive-sapling, which A river rushing down in roaring flood, Tearing its banks away, and cleaving wide A chasm-channel, hath disrooted; low It lieth heavy-blossomed; so lay then The goodly form, the grace of loveliness Of Nireus on earth's breast. But o'er the slain Loud rang the taunting of Eurypylus: "Lie there in dust! Thy beauty marvellous Naught hath availed thee! I have plucked thee away From life, to which thou wast so fain to cling. Rash fool, who didst defy a mightier man Unknowing! Beauty is no match for strength!"
He spake, and leapt upon the slain to strip His goodly arms: but now against him came Machaon wroth for Nireus, by his side Doom-overtaken. With his spear he drave At his right shoulder: strong albeit he was, He touched him, and blood spurted from the gash. Yet, ere he might leap back from grapple of death, Even as a lion or fierce mountain-boar Maddens mid thronging huntsmen, furious-fain To rend the man whose hand first wounded him; So fierce Eurypylus on Machaon rushed. The long lance shot out swiftly, and pierced him through On the right haunch; yet would he not give back, Nor flinch from the onset, fast though flowed the blood. In haste he snatched a huge stone from the ground, And dashed it on the head of Telephus' son; But his helm warded him from death or harm Then waxed Eurypylus more hotly wroth With that strong warrior, and in fury of soul Clear through Machaon's breast he drave his spear, And through the midriff passed the gory point. He fell, as falls beneath a lion's jaws A bull, and round him clashed his glancing arms. Swiftly Eurypylus plucked the lance of death Out of the wound, and vaunting cried aloud: "Wretch, wisdom was not bound up in thine heart, That thou, a weakling, didst come
Now from their rampart forth the Argives poured Round godlike Agamemnon. Rang their shouts Cheering each other on to face the fight, And not to cower beside the ships in dread Of onset-shouts of battle-eager foes. They met those charging hosts with hearts as light As calves bear, when they leap to meet the kine Down faring from hill-pastures in the spring Unto the steading, when the fields are green With corn-blades, when the earth is glad with flowers, And bowls are brimmed with milk of kine and ewes, And multitudinous lowing far and near Uprises as the mothers meet their young, And in their midst the herdman joys; so great Was the uproar that rose when met the fronts Of battle: dread it rang on either hand. Hard-strained was then the fight: incarnate Strife Stalked through the midst, with Slaughter ghastly-faced. Crashed bull-hide shields, and spears, and helmet-crests Meeting: the brass flashed out like leaping flames. Bristled the battle with the lances; earth Ran red with blood, as slaughtered heroes fell And horses, mid a tangle of shattered ears, Some yet with spear-wounds gasping, while on them Others were falling. Through the air upshrieked An awful indistinguishable roar; For on both hosts fell iron-hearted Strife. Here were men hurling cruel jagged stones, There speeding arrows and new-whetted darts, There with the axe or twibill hewing hard, Slashing with swords, and thrusting out with spears: Their mad hands clutched all manner of tools of death.
At first the Argives bore the ranks of Troy Backward a little; but they rallied, charged, Leapt on the foe, and drenched the field with blood. Like a black hurricane rushed Eurypylus Cheering his men on, hewing Argives down Awelessly: measureless might was lent to him By Zeus, for a grace to glorious Hercules. Nireus, a man in beauty like the Gods, His spear long-shafted stabbed beneath the ribs, Down on the plain he fell, forth streamed the blood Drenching his splendid arms, drenching the form Glorious of mould, and his thick-clustering hair. There mid the slain in dust and blood he lay, Like a young lusty olive-sapling, which A river rushing down in roaring flood, Tearing its banks away, and cleaving wide A chasm-channel, hath disrooted; low It lieth heavy-blossomed; so lay then The goodly form, the grace of loveliness Of Nireus on earth's breast. But o'er the slain Loud rang the taunting of Eurypylus: "Lie there in dust! Thy beauty marvellous Naught hath availed thee! I have plucked thee away From life, to which thou wast so fain to cling. Rash fool, who didst defy a mightier man Unknowing! Beauty is no match for strength!"
He spake, and leapt upon the slain to strip His goodly arms: but now against him came Machaon wroth for Nireus, by his side Doom-overtaken. With his spear he drave At his right shoulder: strong albeit he was, He touched him, and blood spurted from the gash. Yet, ere he might leap back from grapple of death, Even as a lion or fierce mountain-boar Maddens mid thronging huntsmen, furious-fain To rend the man whose hand first wounded him; So fierce Eurypylus on Machaon rushed. The long lance shot out swiftly, and pierced him through On the right haunch; yet would he not give back, Nor flinch from the onset, fast though flowed the blood. In haste he snatched a huge stone from the ground, And dashed it on the head of Telephus' son; But his helm warded him from death or harm Then waxed Eurypylus more hotly wroth With that strong warrior, and in fury of soul Clear through Machaon's breast he drave his spear, And through the midriff passed the gory point. He fell, as falls beneath a lion's jaws A bull, and round him clashed his glancing arms. Swiftly Eurypylus plucked the lance of death Out of the wound, and vaunting cried aloud: "Wretch, wisdom was not bound up in thine heart, That thou, a weakling, didst come