The Fall of Troy [85]
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
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