Complete Works of Homer, page 343
In honour of his son, whom fate decreed,
Far from his country, on the fertile plains
Of Troy to perish by Patroclus' hand.
As near the champions drew, Patroclus first
His weapon hurl'd, and Thrasymedes brave,
The faithful follower of Sarpedon, struck
Below the waist, and slack'd his limbs in death.
Thrown in his turn, Sarpedon's glitt'ring spear
Flew wide; and Pedasus, the gallant horse,
Through the right shoulder wounded; with a scream
He fell, and in the dust breath'd forth his life,
As, shrieking loud, his noble spirit fled.
This way and that his two companions swerv'd;
Creak'd the strong yoke, and tangled were the reins,
As in the dust the prostrate courser lay.
Automedon the means of safety saw;
And drawing from beside his brawny thigh
His keen-edg'd sword, with no uncertain blow
Cut loose the fallen horse; again set straight,
The two, extended, stretch'd the tightened rein.
Again in mortal strife the warriors clos'd:
Once more Sarpedon hurl'd his glitt'ring spear
In vain; above Patroclus' shoulder flew
The point, innocuous; from his hand in turn
The spear not vainly thrown, Sarpedon struck
Where lies the diaphragm, below the heart.
He fell; as falls an oak, or poplar tall,
Or lofty pine, which on the mountain top
For some proud ship the woodman's axe hath hewn:
So he, with death-cry sharp, before his car
Extended lay, and clutch'd the blood-stain'd soil.
As when a lion on the herd has sprung,
And, 'mid the heifers seiz'd, the lordly bull
Lies bellowing, crush'd between the lion's jaws;
So by Patroclus slain, the Lycian chief,
Undaunted still, his faithful comrade call'd:
"Good Glaucus, warrior tried, behoves thee now
Thy spearmanship to prove, and warlike might.
Welcome the fray; put forth thine utmost speed;
Call on the Lycian chiefs, on ev'ry side,
To press around, and for Sarpedon fight;
Thou too thine arms for my protection wield;
For I to thee, through all thy future days,
Shall be a ceaseless scandal and reproach,
If me, thus slain before the Grecian ships,
The Greeks be suffer'd of my arms to spoil:
But stand thou fast, and others' courage raise."
Thus as he spoke, the shades of death o'erspread
His eyes and nostrils; then with foot firm-set
Upon his chest, Patroclus from the corpse
Drew, by main force, the fast-adhering spear;
The life forth issuing with the weapon's point.
Loos'd from the royal car, the snorting steeds,
Eager for flight, the Myrmidons detain'd.
Deep-grieving, Glaucus heard his voice: and chafed
His spirit within him, that he lacked the power
To aid his comrade; with his hand he grasp'd
His wounded arm, in torture from the shaft
By Teucer shot, to save the Greeks from death,
As on he pressed to scale the lofty wall:
Then to Apollo thus address'd his pray'r:
"Hear me, great King, who, as on Lycia's plains,
Art here in Troy; and hear'st in ev'ry place
Their voice who suffer, as I suffer now.
A grievous wound I bear, and sharpest pangs
My arm assail, nor may the blood he stanch'd:
The pain weighs down my shoulder; and my hand
Hath lost its pow'r to fight, or grasp my spear.
Sarpedon, bravest of the brave, is slain,
The son of Jove; yet Jove preserv'd him not.
But thou, O King, this grievous wound relieve;
Assuage the pain, and give me strength to urge
My Lycian comrades to maintain the war,
And fight myself to guard the noble dead."
Thus as he pray'd, his pray'r Apollo heard,
Assuag'd his pains, and from the grievous wound
Stanch' d the dark blood, and fill'd his soul with strength.
Glaucus within himself perceiv'd, and knew,
Rejoicing, that the God had heard his pray'r.
The Lycian leaders first on ev'ry side
He urg'd to hasten for their King to fight:
Then 'mid the Trojans went with lofty step,
And first to Panthous' son, Polydamas,
To brave Agenor and AEneas next;
Then Hector of the brazen helm himself
Approaching, thus with winged words address'd:
"Hector, forgett'st thou quite thy brave allies,
Who freely in thy cause pour forth their lives,
Far from their home and friends? but they from thee
No aid receive; Sarpedon lies in death,
The leader of the buckler'd Lycian bands,
Whose justice and whose pow'r were Lycia's shield;
Him by Patroclus' hand hath Mars subdued.
But, friends, stand by me now! with just revenge
Inspir'd, determine that the Myrmidons
Shall not, how griev'd soe'er for all the Greeks
Who by our spears beside the ships have fall'n,
Our dead dishonour, and his arms obtain."
He said; and through the Trojans thrill'd the sense
Of grief intolerable, unrestrain'd;
For he, though stranger-born, was of the State
A mighty pillar; and his followers
A num'rous host; and he himself in fight
Among the foremost; so, against the Greeks,
With fiery zeal they rush'd, by Hector led,
Griev'd for Sarpedon's loss; on th' other side
Patroclus' manly heart the Greeks arous'd,
And to th' Ajaces first, themselves inflamed
With warlike zeal, he thus address'd his speech:
"Ye sons of Ajax, now is come the time
Your former fame to rival, or surpass:
The man hath fall'n, who first o'erleap'd our wall,
Sarpedon; now remains, that, having slain,
We should his corpse dishonour, and his arms
Strip off; and should some comrade dare attempt
His rescue, him too with our spears subdue."
He said; and they, with martial ardour fir'd,
Rush'd to the conflict. When on either side
The reinforc'd battalions were array'd,
Trojans and Lycians, Myrmidons and Greeks
Around the dead in sternest combat met,
With fearful shouts; and loud their armour rang.
Then, to enhance the horror of the strife
Around his son, with darkness Jove o'erspread
The stubborn fight: the Trojans first drove back
The keen-ey'd Greeks; for first a warrior fell,
Not of the meanest 'mid the Myrmidons,
Epegeus, son of valiant Agacles;
Who in Budaeum's thriving state bore rule
Erewhile; but flying for a kinsman slain,
To Peleus and the silver-footed Queen
He came a suppliant; with Achilles thence
To Ilium sent, to join the war of Troy.
Him, as he stretch'd his hand to seize the dead,
Full on the forehead with a massive stone
Great Hector smote; within the pond'rous helm
The skull was split in twain; prone on the corpse
He fell, by life-destroying death subdued.
Griev'd was Patroclus for his comrade slain;
Forward he darted, as a swift-wing'd hawk,
That swoops amid the starlings and the daws;
So swift didst thou, Patroclus, car-borne chief,
Upon the Trojans and the Lycians spring,
Thy soul with anger for thy comrade fill'd.
A pond'rous stone he hurl'd at Sthenelas,
Son of Ithaemenes; the mighty mass
Fell on his neck, and all the muscles crush'd.
Back drew great Hector and the chiefs of Troy;
Far as a jav'lin's flight, in sportive strife,
Or in the deadly battle, hurl'd by one
His utmost strength exerting; back so far
The Trojans drew, so far the Greeks pursued.
Glaucus, the leader of the Lycian spears,
First turning, slew the mighty Bathycles,
The son of Chalcon; he in Hellas dwelt,
In wealth surpassing all the Myrmidons.
Him, as he gain'd upon him in pursuit,
Quick turning, Glaucus through the breast transfix'd;
Thund'ring he fell; deep grief possess'd the Greeks
At loss of one so valiant; fiercely joy'd
The Trojans, and around him crowded thick;
Nor of their wonted valour were the Greeks
Oblivious, but still onward held their course.
Then slew Meriones a crested chief,
The bold Laogonus, Onetor's son;
Onetor, of Idaean Jove the priest,
And by the people as a God rever'd.
Below the ear he struck him; from his limbs
The spirit fled, and darkness veil'd his eyes.
Then at Meriones AEneas threw
His brazen spear, in hopes beneath his shield
To find a spot unguarded; he beheld,
And downward stooping, shunn'd the brazen death;
Behind him far, deep in the soil infix'd,
The weapon stood; there Mars its impulse stay'd;
So, bootless hurl'd, though by no feeble hand,
AEneas' spear stood quiv'ring in the ground;
Then thus in wrath he cried: "Meriones,
Had it but struck thee, nimble as thou art,
My spear had brought thy dancing to a close."
To whom the spearman skill'd, Meriones:
"Brave as thou art, AEneas, 'tis too much
For thee to hope the might of all to quell,
Who dare confront thee; thou art mortal too!
And if my aim be true, and should my spear
But strike thee fair, all valiant as thou art,
And confident, yet me thy fall shall crown
With triumph, and thy soul to Hades send."
He said; and him Menoetius' noble son
Address'd with grave rebuke: "Meriones,
Brave warrior, why thus waste the time in words?
Trust me, good friend, 'tis not by vaunting speech,
Unseconded by deeds, that we may hope
To scare away the Trojans from the slain:
Hands are for battle, words for council meet;
Boots it not now to wrangle, but to fight."
He said, and led the way; him follow'd straight
The godlike chief; forthwith, as loudly rings,
Amid the mountain forest's deep recess,
The woodman's axe, and far is heard the sound;
So from the wide-spread earth their clamour rose,
As brazen arms, and shields, and tough bull's-hide
Encounter'd swords and double-pointed spears.
Nor might the sharpest sight Sarpedon know,
From head to foot with wounds and blood and dust
Disfigur'd; thickly round the dead they swarm'd.
As when at spring-tide in the cattle-sheds
Around the milk-cans swarm the buzzing flies,
While the warm milk is frothing in the pail;
So swarm'd they round the dead; nor Jove the while
Turn'd from the stubborn fight his piercing glance;
But still look'd down with gaze intent, and mus'd
Upon Patroclus' coming fate, in doubt,
If he too there beside Sarpedon slain,
Should perish by illustrious Hector's hand,
Spoil'd of his arms; or yet be spared awhile
To swell the labours of the battle-field.
He judg'd it best at length, that once again
The gallant follower of Peleus' son
Should tow'rd the town with fearful slaughter drive
The Trojans, and their brazen-helmed chief.
First Hector's soul with panic fear he fill'd;
Mounting his car, he fled, and urg'd to flight
The Trojans; for he saw the scales of Jove.
Then nor the valiant Lycians held their ground;
All fled in terror, as they saw their King
Pierc'd through the heart, amid a pile of dead;
For o'er his body many a warrior fell,
When Saturn's son the conflict fierce inflam'd.
Then from Sarpedon's breast they stripp'd his arms,
Of brass refulgent; these Menoetius' son
Sent by his comrades to the ships of Greece.
To Phoebus then the Cloud-compeller thus:
"Hie thee, good Phoebus, from amid the spears
Withdraw Sarpedon, and from all his wounds
Cleanse the dark gore; then bear him far away,
And lave his body in the flowing stream;
Then with divine ambrosia all his limbs
Anointing, clothe him in immortal robes.
To two swift bearers give him then in charge,
To Sleep and Death, twin brothers, in their arms
To bear him safe to Lycia's wide-spread plains:
There shall his brethren and his friends perform
His fun'ral rites, and mound and column raise,
The fitting tribute to the mighty dead."
He said; obedient to his father's words,
Down to the battle-field Apollo sped
From Ida's height; and from amid the spears
Withdrawn, he bore Sarpedon far away,
And lav'd his body in the flowing stream;
Then with divine ambrosia all his limbs
Anointing, cloth'd him in immortal robes;
To two swift bearers gave him then in charge,
To Sleep and Death, twin brothers; in their arms
They bore him safe to Lycia's wide-spread plains.
Then to Automedon Patroclus gave
His orders, and the flying foe pursued.
Oh much deceiv'd, insensate! had he now
But borne in mind the words of Peleus' son,
He might have 'scap'd the bitter doom of death.
But still Jove's will the will of man o'errules:
Who strikes with panic, and of vict'ry robs
The bravest; and anon excites to war;
Who now Patroclus' breast with fury fill'd.
Whom then, Patroclus, first, whom slew'st thou last,
When summon'd by the Gods to meet thy doom?
Adrastus, and Autonous, Perimus
The son of Meges, and Echeclus next;
Epistor, Melanippus, Elasus,
And Mulius, and Pylartes; these he slew;
The others all in flight their safety found.
Then had the Greeks the lofty-gated town
Of Priam captur'd by Patroclus' hand,
So forward and so fierce he bore his spear;
But on the well-built tow'r Apollo stood,
On his destruction bent, and Troy's defence
The jutting angle of the lofty wall
Patroclus thrice assail'd; his onset thrice
Apollo, with his own immortal hands
Repelling, backward thrust his glitt'ring shield.
But when again, with more than mortal force
He made his fourth attempt, with awful mien
And threat'ning voice the Far-destroyer spoke:
"Back, Heav'n-born chief, Patroclus! not to thee
Hath fate decreed the triumph to destroy
The warlike Trojans' city; no, nor yet
To great Achilles, mightier far than thou."
Thus as he spoke, Patroclus backward stepp'd,
Shrinking before the Far-destroyer's wrath.
Still Hector kept before the Scaean gates
His coursers; doubtful, if again to dare
The battle-throng, or summon all the host
To seek the friendly shelter of the wall.
Thus as he mus'd, beside him Phoebus stood,
In likeness of a warrior stout and brave,
Brother of Hecuba, the uncle thence
Of noble Hector, Asius, Dymas' son;
Who dwelt in Phrygia, by Saugarius' stream;
His form assuming, thus Apollo spoke:
"Hector, why shrink'st thou from the battle thus?
It ill beseems thee! Would to Heav'n that I
So far thy greater were, as thou art mine;
Then sorely shouldst thou rue this abstinence.
But, forward thou! against Patroclus urge
Thy fiery steeds, so haply by his death
Apollo thee with endless fame may crown."
This said, the God rejoin'd the strife of men;
And noble Hector bade Cebriones
Drive 'mid the fight his car; before him mov'd
Apollo, scatt'ring terror 'mid the Greeks,
And lustre adding to the arms of Troy.
All others Hector pass'd unnotic'd by,
Nor stay'd to slay; Patroclus was the mark
At which his coursers' clatt'ring hoofs he drove.
On th' other side, Patroclus from his car
Leap'd to the ground: his left hand held his spear;
And in the right a pond'rous mass he bore
Of rugged stone, that fill'd his ample grasp:
The stone he hurl'd; not far it miss'd its mark,
Nor bootless flew; but Hector's charioteer
It struck, Cebriones, a bastard son
Of royal Priam, as the reins he held.
Full on his temples fell the jagged mass,
Drove both his eyebrows in, and crush'd the bone;
Before him in the dust his eyeballs fell;
And, like a diver, from the well-wrought car
Headlong he plung'd; and life forsook his limbs.
O'er whom Patroclus thus with bitter jest:
"Heav'n! what agility! how deftly thrown
That somersault! if only in the sea
Such feats he wrought, with him might few compete,
Diving for oysters, if with such a plunge
He left his boat, how rough soe'er the waves,
As from his car he plunges to the ground:
Troy can, it seems, accomplish'd tumblers boast."
Thus saying, on Cebriones he sprang,
As springs a lion, through the breast transfix'd,
In act the sheepfold to despoil, and dies
The victim of his courage; so didst thou
