To the grim horseman Pluto.” Thus he spake,
While Socus turned to flee; and as he turned,
Ulysses with the spear transfixed his back,
And drave the weapon through his breast: he fell,
With armor clashing, to the earth, while thus
The great Ulysses gloried over him:—
“O Socus! son of warlike Hippasus
The horseman! Death has overtaken thee,
And thou couldst not escape. Unhappy one!
Now thou art dead thy father will not come
To close thy eyes, nor she, the honored one
Who gave thee birth; but birds of prey shall flap
Their heavy wings above thee, and shall tear
Thy flesh, while I in dying shall receive
Due funeral honors from the noble Greeks.”
He spake, and from his wounded side drew forth,
And from his bossy shield, the ponderous spear
Which warlike Socus threw. A gush of blood
Followed, and torturing pain. Now, when they saw
Ulysses bleed, the gallant sons of Troy
Called to each other, rushing in a crowd
To where he stood. Retreating as they came,
He shouted to his comrades. Thrice he raised
His voice as loud as human lungs could shout;
Thrice warlike Menelaus heard the cry,
And spake at once to Ajax at his side:—
“Most noble Ajax, son of Telamon,
Prince of thy people! To my ear is brought
The cry of that unconquerable man,
Ulysses, seemingly as if the foe
Had hemmed him round alone, and pressed him sore
In combat. Break we through the crowd, and bring
Succor, lest harm befall him, though so brave—
Fighting among the Trojans thus alone—
And lest the Greeks should lose their mighty chief.”
He spake, and led the way; his godlike friend
Followed. They found Ulysses, dear to Jove—
The Trojans thronging round him like a troop
Of ravening jackals round an antlered stag
Which one who hunts upon the mountain-side
Hath stricken with an arrow from his bow:
By flight the stag escapes, while yet the blood
Is warm and easily the limbs are moved;
But when at last the shaft hath quelled his strength,
The hungry jackals in the forest shade
Among the hills attack him, till by chance
The dreaded lion comes; alarmed, they flee,
And he devours the prey. So in that hour,
Many and brave, the sons of Troy pursued
Ulysses, skilled in war and wiles; while he
Wielded the spear and warded off the day
Of death. Then Ajax, coming near him, stood,
With his tall buckler, like a tower of strength
Beside him, and the Trojans fled in fear
On all sides. Warlike Menelaus took
Ulysses by the hand, and led him forth
From the thronged spot, while his attendant brought
The chariot near him. Ajax sprang upon
The Trojans, slaying Doryclus, a son
Of Priam basely born. Then Pandorus
He wounded; next he struck Lysander down,
Pyrasus and Pylartes. As a stream,
Swol’n to a torrent by the showers of Jove
Sweeps down, from hill to plain, dry oaks and pines,
And pours into the sea a muddy flood,
So mighty Ajax routed and pursued
The Trojans o’er the plain, and cut his way
Through steeds and warriors. Hector knew not this.
He fought where, on the battle’s left, beside
The Xanthus, fastest fell the slain, and round
Great Nestor and the brave Idomeneus
Arose a mighty tumult. In that throng
Did Hector mingle with his spear and steeds,
Performing feats of valor, and laid waste
The ranks of youthful warriors. Yet the Greeks
Would not have yielded ground, if Paris, spouse
Of fair-haired Helen, had not forced the chief
Machaon, fighting gallantly, to pause;
For with an arrow triple-barbed he pierced
The chiefs right shoulder, and the valiant Greeks
Feared lest the battle turn and he be slain.
And thus Idomeneus to Nestor said:—
“Neleian Nestor, glory of the Greeks,
Haste, mount thy chariot; let Machaon take
A place beside thee; urge thy firm-paced steeds
Rapidly toward the fleet; a leech like him,
Who cuts the arrow from the wound and soothes
The pain with balms, is worth a host to us.”
He spake; and the Gerenian knight obeyed,
And climbed the car in haste. Machaon, son
Of Aesculapius the peerless leech,
Mounted beside him; Nestor lashed the steeds,
And toward the roomy ships, which well they knew,
And longed to reach, they flew with eager speed.
Meantime Cebriones, who had his seat
By Hector in the chariot, saw the ranks
Of Troy disordered, and addressed the chief:—
“While we, O Hector, here are mid the Greeks
Just in the skirts of the tumultuous fray,
The other Trojans, men and steeds, are thrown
Into confusion where the warriors throng,
For Telamonian Ajax puts their ranks
To rout; I know him well by that broad shield
Borne on his shoulders. Thither let us drive
Our steeds and chariot, where in desperate strife
Meet horse and foot and hew each other down,
And a perpetual clamor fills the air.”
He spake; and with the whistling lash he struck
The long-maned steeds, and, as they felt the stroke,
Forward they flew with the swift car among
The Greeks and Trojans, trampling in their way
Corpses and shields. The axle underneath
Was steeped in blood; the rim of the chariot-seat
Was foul with the red drops which from their hoofs
The coursers sprinkled and the wheels threw up.
Then Hector strove, by rushing on the crowd,
To pierce it and break through it. To the Greeks
His coming brought destruction and dismay;
And well his spear was wielded. Through the ranks
Of other warriors with the spear he ranged,
With sword and ponderous stones; yet warily
He shunned the fight with Ajax Telamon.
Then Father Jove Almighty touched with fear
The heart of Ajax. All amazed he stood,
And cast his sevenfold buckler of bull’s-hide
Upon his back, and, terrified, withdrew.
Now casting glances like a beast of prey
From side to side, he turned to right and left,
And, slowly yielding, moved knee after knee.
As when the rustics with their hounds drive off
A hungry lion from their stalls of kine,
Whom, watching all the night, they suffer not
To make their herd a prey; but he, intent
On ravin, rushes forward, yet in vain;
For many a javelin flies from daring hands
Against him, many a blazing torch is swung,
At which, though fierce, he trembles, and at morn
Stalks off in sullen mood;—so Ajax, sad
At heart, and fearing for the Grecian fleet,
Unwillingly fell back before the foe.
And as, when entering in a field, an ass
Slow-paced, whose flanks have broken many a shaft
To splinters, crops the harvest as it grows,
And boys attack him with their rods—though small
Their strength—but scarce, till he has browsed his fill,
Can drive him forth—so did the gallant sons
Of Troy, and their allies from distant lands,
Continually
