In this harsh and bitter conflict, in his strength
His father’s equal, bringing disaster to many a foe.
You’re not really concerned for the Trojans, but are envious
Of Achilles’ greatness as the best of men.
You fool, how will you face the daughter of Nereus now,
When she comes to the house of Zeus to join the immortals?
She used to honor you and regard you as her son.”
Thus did Hera in her bitterness sharply rebuke
The son of almighty Zeus. He answered her not a word
Because of his respect for his powerful father’s spouse.
He couldn’t so much as look her in the face,
But sat apart from the gods who live forever,
His eyes upon the ground. Resentment against him was strong
From all the Olympian gods who supported the Danaan cause,
While those who were eager to grant a triumph to the Trojans
Held Apollo in honor, exulting in their hearts,
But out of Hera’s sight, since all the heavenly beings
Were awed by her anger.
Meanwhile Achilles remembered still
His fighting spirit. Still in his invincible limbs
The crimson blood was seething with eagerness for the fight.
Not a single Trojan had courage to approach him,
Struck though he was. They stood well back, as from a lion
Rustics in a wood draw back afraid when a hunter
Has struck it; though a shaft has pierced its heart, it remembers
Still its courage; as it rolls its glaring eyes
It utters a terrible roar from its savage jaws.
So anger and his painful wound inflamed the spirit
Of Peleus’ son, though dying from Apollo’s arrow.
In spite of all he sprang and fell upon his foes,
His huge spear poised. He killed the noble Orythaon,
Hektor’s brave comrade, with a blow below the temple.
His helmet failed to stop the long lance as intended.
It shot straight through both metal and bone, to penetrate
The nerves of his brain and so to spill his vital force.
He slew Hipponoos with a spear thrust under the brow
Into the roots of his eye. His eyeball fell from its socket
Onto the ground and his spirit flew away to Hades.
Next he penetrated the jaw of Alkithoos
And severed all of his tongue. He slumped upon the ground
Breathing his last, the spearpoint sticking out of his ear.
All these were slain by the hero as they hurried forth
To face him, while he took the lives of many others
In flight, for still the blood was seething in his heart.
When his limbs grew cold and his spirit ebbed away,
He stopped to lean on his spear. The Trojans continued their flight
In general panic, leaving him to rebuke them thus:
‘You cowardly Trojans, Dardanians, even when I’m dead
You won’t escape my merciless spear; the lot of you
Will pay the price of death to my avenging spirits.”
They shuddered when they heard him speak, as in the mountains
Fawns will tremble at the sound of a roaring lion,
Making their timid escape from the beast. Likewise the army
Of the Trojan horsemen and their foreign allies
Trembled in terror of Achilles’ final threat,
Supposing him unwounded still. But with the weight
Of doom upon his gallant spirit and sturdy frame,
He fell among the dead with the fall of a lofty mountain.
The earth resounded with the mighty crash of armor
At the fall of Peleus’ peerless son. Yet abject terror
Shook the hearts of those who saw their fallen foe.
Just as when a savage beast is killed by herdsmen;
The sight of it fallen beside the fold so fills the flock
With fear that they haven’t even the heart to approach it;
They shudder at the corpse as though it were alive;
Such was the Trojans’ fear for Achilles after his death.
Despite that Paris used strong words to stir the people’s
Spirits, because his heart was happy in the hope
That the Argives would give up the deadly fighting
After the fall of Peleus’ son, who was their strength.
“My friends, if truly and sincerely you support me,
Let us either die today at the hands of the Argives
Or save ourselves and drag away to Ilion
The fallen body of Peleus’ son with the horses of Hektor,
Which since the death of my brother bear me into battle,
Feeling still the grief of losing their true master.
If with their help we drag away the dead Achilles,
Great glory we would win for the horses as well as for Hektor
Himself, if really in Hades mortals retain their minds
Or sense of justice, in view of the harm he did to Troy,
Great will be the joy in the hearts of Trojan women
When they gather round him in the city, like fearsome
Lionesses or leopards furious for their cubs
Around a man experienced and skilled in dangerous hunting.
Thus round the body of slain Achilles the women of Troy
Will rush together to show their overwhelming hatred,
Some enraged for loss of fathers, some for husbands,
Some for children, and others for their honored kinsmen.
But happiest of all will be my father and the elders,
Those kept by age against their will inside the walls,
If we can only drag Achilles into the city
And leave him to be devoured by the birds of the air.”
At these words round the body of Aiakos’ valiant grandson
Quickly gathered those who’d feared him previously,
Glaukos, Aineias, Agenor the brave of heart,
And others who were skilled in the deadly art of war,
Eager to drag him off to Ilion’s holy city.
Achilles, though, was not abandoned by godlike Ajax,
Who swiftly bestrode him and with his long lance drove them all
Away from him. And yet they persisted in their attack,
Fighting Ajax on every side and making assaults
One after the other, like so many long-lipped bees,
Which hover round their hive in countless swarms
To drive away a man; he disregards their attacks
While cutting out their honeycombs, and they are distressed
By both the man and the billowing smoke; and still they make
Their frontal assaults, although he heeds them not the least.
So Ajax disregarded all these rapid attacks.
First of all he killed with a blow above the breast
Maion’s son Agelaos and next the noble Thestor;
Then Okythoos, Agestratos, Aganippos,
Zoros, Nissos, and the famous Erymas,
Who came from Lykia under valiant Glaukos’ command.
His home was steep Melanippion sacred to Athena,
Which faces Massikytos near Cape Chelidon;
Seafaring sailors tremble in awe of that place
Whenever they have to round its jagged rocks.
The killing of that Lykian chilled with horror the heart
Of Hippolochos’ famous son, because he was his friend.
Quickly stabbing Ajax’s shield of many oxhides,
He was not able to penetrate to his fair flesh.
The breastplate that was fitted to his tireless body.
Glaukos, however, did not abandon the mortal combat
In his desire to vanquish Aiakos’ grandson
Ajax
He was so foolish as to make this boastful challenge:
“Ajax, since men claim that you are far the best
Of all the Argives and they are exceedingly proud of you,
No less than of brave Achilles, now that he is dead
You too will join him in death this very day, I reckon.”
The words he uttered he could not fulfill; he did not know
The greater worth of the man at whom he aimed his spear
The steadfast fighter Ajax scowling at him replied:
“Don’t you know, wretch, how much better than you in battle
Hektor was? And yet he avoided the force of this spear
Of mine, for with his brawn he had a prudent brain.
Your thoughts are clearly of death and darkness, since you dare
To face in combat one who is so much your better.
You cannot claim to be a family friend of mine,
Nor with your persuasive gifts will you divert me
From fighting as you did the mighty son of Tydeus.
You may have eluded that man’s power, but I at least
Will not allow you to escape alive from the battle.
Perhaps you put your trust in others on this field,
Who together with you are flitting like worthless flies
Around the body of peerless Achilles. To them also,
If they attack, I’ll give the dismal doom of death.”
Ajax turned upon the Trojans, like a lion
Among a pack of hounds in a deep and wooded glen.
He quickly dispatched a host who were eager to win some glory,
Trojans and Lykians alike. Those round him trembled with fear,
Just like a shoal of fish in the ocean at the attack
Of a terrible whale or mighty dolphin of the sea.
So shrank the Trojans before the might of Telamon’s son
Attacking them time and again in the battle. Even so
They fought on, so that on every side of Achilles’ body
Numberless men lay dead in the dust like so many boars
Around a lion, for deadly was the fighting between them.
There too the warlike son of Hippolochos was slain
By stouthearted Ajax. Over Achilles he fell on his back,
Just like a mountain shrub beside a solid oak.
Such was the fall of Glaukos upon the son of Peleus
When struck by the spear. For him Anchises’ powerful son
Labored long, and with the help of his warrior friends
Dragged him to the Trojan lines for his grieving comrades
To carry him back to the holy city of Ilion.
Aineias kept fighting over Achilles, till with his spear
The warlike Ajax wounded him above the muscle
Of his right arm. He leapt with rapid motion
Clear of the deadly fray and returned at once to the city.
Men skilled in the art of healing worked upon him,
Cleaning first the blood from his wound and then performing
All else that’s needed to cure the suffering of the wounded.
Ajax fought on, as though with bolts of lightning
Killing in all directions, for great was his distress
And long the grief he felt for the death of his cousin.
Nearby the peerless son of the warrior Laertes
Engaged the enemy, who in terror fled before him.
He killed the swift Peisandros and Areios the son
Of Mainalos, whose home was the famous land of Abydos.
Next Odysseus slew Atymnios, who was borne
Beside the river Granikos. Close to that man
He struck dawn Proteus’ son Oresbios, who lived
Below the vales of lofty Ida, but whose mother,
The famous Panakeia, never welcomed him home,
Slain as he was by the hands of Odysseus, who also took
The lives of many others with his raging spear,
Killing any he met near the body. But then Alkon,
Son of fleet-foot Megaldes, struck him with his spear
Beside the right knee and round his glittering greave
Dark blood came welling. He, though, disregarding the wound,
At once was the death of the eager fighter who wounded him.
Stabbing him with his spear clean through the shield.
With all the force of his powerful arm he pushed him
Backward onto the ground. The armor on him clashed
As he fell in the dust; the breastplate round his body
Was drenched with gore. Odysseus pulled the fatal spear
Out of both his flesh and his shield, and with the spearpoint
Breath left his limbs and life immortal abandoned him.
Though wounded, Odysseus made a rush at Alkon’s comrades
And wouldn’t relax the noisy struggle.
Likewise the other
Danaans, all in a compact mass round great Achilles,
fought keenly on and at their hands a host of men
Were rapidly slaughtered with their spears of polished ashwood.
As when leaves are strewn upon the ground by winds
That press with violent blasts on woods and groves,
When autumn wanes toward the closing of the year,
So they were felled by the spears of the resolute Danaan warriors.
The concern of everyone was for the dead Achilles,
But especially that of warlike Ajax. That was why
He slew so many Trojans like an evil Fate.
Then Paris drew his bow at Ajax, who saw at once
And hurled a deadly rock that hit him on the head
And smashed his double-crested helmet, so that darkness
Engulfed him and he collapsed in the dust, his arrows failing
To achieve his purpose, scattered in all directions
In the dust and the quiver lying empty with them,
His bow escaping from his hands. His comrades seized him
And carried him away to Troy on Hektor’s chariot,
Hardly drawing breath and groaning in his pain.
Nor were his weapons left without their master; they too
Were gathered from the plain and brought back to the prince.
Ajax shouted after him in his vexation:
“You dog, you have evaded the heavy hand of death
Today, but very soon your final hour shall come,
Either at another Argive’s hands or at mine.
Now a different matter weighs on my mind, to rescue
Achilles’ body for the Danaans from this slaughter.”
THE CYCLOPS
Odyssey, Book IX
Homer
Translated by Samuel Butler, 1900
Odysseus, who fought for the Greeks in the Trojan War, was renowned for his cleverness. It was his idea to build an enormous wooden horse to carry the Greeks into Troy so that they could finally sack the citadel (see Story 48). Unfortunately, he was the last of the men to return home after the war. Odysseus’ travels, described in Homer’s Odyssey, took him over many seas and to many lands, including that of the Cyclopes – one-eyed monsters with a disgusting appetite for human flesh. This famous story is told by Odysseus himself to his hosts on a magical island named Scheria. In Story 3, Priam likened Odysseus to a ram. In this story, a ram saves his life. This lively and highly intelligent translation is by the great novelist Samuel Butler who, in 1897, reached the bold conclusion that the author of the Odyssey was a woman. The full title of this edition of his translation is perhaps rather patronising for modern tastes: ‘The Odyssey: Rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read the original’.
“Now the Cyclopes neither plant nor plough, but trust in providence, and live on such wheat, barley, and grapes as grow wild without any kind of tillage, and their wild grapes yield them wine as the sun and the ra
in may grow them. They have no laws nor assemblies of the people, but live in caves on the tops of high mountains; each is lord and master in his family, and they take no account of their neighbours.
“Now off their harbour there lies a wooded and fertile island not quite close to the land of the Cyclopes, but still not far. It is over-run with wild goats, that breed there in great numbers and are never disturbed by foot of man; for sportsmen—who as a rule will suffer so much hardship in forest or among mountain precipices—do not go there, nor yet again is it ever ploughed or fed down, but it lies a wilderness untilled and unsown from year to year, and has no living thing upon it but only goats. For the Cyclopes have no ships, nor yet shipwrights who could make ships for them; they cannot therefore go from city to city, or sail over the sea to one another’s country as people who have ships can do; if they had had these they would have colonised the island, for it is a very good one, and would yield everything in due season. There are meadows that in some places come right down to the sea shore, well watered and full of luscious grass; grapes would do there excellently; there is level land for ploughing, and it would always yield heavily at harvest time, for the soil is deep. There is a good harbour where no cables are wanted, nor yet anchors, nor need a ship be moored, but all one has to do is to beach one’s vessel and stay there till the wind becomes fair for putting out to sea again. At the head of the harbour there is a spring of clear water coming out of a cave, and there are poplars growing all round it.
“Here we entered, but so dark was the night that some god must have brought us in, for there was nothing whatever to be seen. A thick mist hung all round our ships; the moon was hidden behind a mass of clouds so that no one could have seen the island if he had looked for it, nor were there any breakers to tell us we were close in shore before we found ourselves upon the land itself; when, however, we had beached the ships, we took down the sails, went ashore and camped upon the beach till daybreak.
“When the child of morning, rosy-fingered dawn appeared, we admired the island and wandered all over it, while the nymphs Jove’s daughters roused the wild goats that we might get some meat for our dinner. On this we fetched our spears and bows and arrows from the ships, and dividing ourselves into three bands began to shoot the goats. Heaven sent us excellent sport; I had twelve ships with me, and each ship got nine goats, while my own ship had ten; thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun we ate and drank our fill, and we had plenty of wine left, for each one of us had taken many jars full when we sacked the city of the Cicons, and this had not yet run out. While we were feasting we kept turning our eyes towards the land of the Cyclopes, which was hard by, and saw the smoke of their stubble fires. We could almost fancy we heard their voices and the bleating of their sheep and goats, but when the sun went down and it came on dark, we camped down upon the beach, and next morning I called a council.