THE ILIAD (Completed)

BOOK 14

Nor did the battle-din not reach the ears Of Nestor, o'er the wine-cup; and his speech He thus address'd to AEsculapius' son:

"Say, good Machaon, what these sounds may mean; For louder swells the tumult round the ships. But sit thou here, and drink the ruddy wine, Till fair-hair'd Hecamede shall prepare The gentle bath, and wash thy gory wounds; While I go forth, and all around survey."

He said, and from the wall a buckler took, Well-wrought, with brass resplendent, which his son, Brave Thrasymedes, in the tent had left, While with his father's shield himself was girt; A sturdy spear too, tipp'd with brass, he took: Without the tent he stood; and there his eyes A woful sight beheld; the Greeks in flight, The haughty Trojans pressing on their rout Confus'd; the Greeks' protecting wall o'erthrown. As heaves the darkling sea with silent swell, Expectant of the boist'rous gale's approach; Nor onward either way is pour'd its flood, Until it feel th' impelling blast from Heav'n; So stood th' old man, his mind perplex'd with doubt, To mingle in the throng, or counsel seek Of mighty Agamemnon, Atreus' son. Thus as he mused, the better course appear'd, To seek Atrides; fiercely fought the rest With mutual slaughter; loud their armour rang With thrusts of swords and double-pointed spears. There Nestor met, advancing from the ships, The Heav'n-born Kings, Ulysses, Diomed, And Agamemnon, son of Atreus, all By wounds disabled; for the ships were beach'd Upon the shore, beside the hoary sea, Far from the battle; higher, tow'rd the plain The foremost had been drawn, and with a wall Their sterns surrounded; for the spacious beach Could not contain them, and in narrow bounds Were pent their multitudes; so high on land They drew, and rang'd them side by side, and fill'd, Within the headlands, all the wide-mouth'd bay. Thus they, their steps supporting on their spears, Together came, spectators of the fight; Deep sorrow fill'd their breasts; them Nestor met, The fear increasing, which their souls possess'd. To whom the monarch Agamemnon thus:

"O Nestor, son of Neleus, pride of Greece, Why com'st thou here, and leav'st the battle-field? Greatly I fear that noble Hector now His menace will fulfil, who made his boast Before th' assembled Trojans, that to Troy He never would return, until our ships The flames had master'd, and ourselves the sword. Such was his threat, and now he makes it good. Heav'n! can it be that I of other Greeks, As of Achilles, have incurr'd the wrath, Who thence refuse to battle for the ships?"

To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied: "Such are indeed our prospects; Jove on high Could to our fortunes give no diff'rent turn. The wall is raz'd, wherein our trust we plac'd To guard, impregnable, ourselves and ships; And now around the ships their war they wage, Unceasing, unabated; none might tell By closest scrutiny, which way are driv'n The routed Greeks, so intermix'd they fall Promiscuous; and the cry ascends to Heav'n. But come, discuss we what may best be done, If judgment aught may profit us; ourselves To mingle in the fray I counsel not; It were not well for wounded men to fight."

Whom answer'd Agamemnon, King of men: "Nestor, since to the ships the war is brought, Nor hath the wall avail'd to stay their course, Nor yet the deep-dug trench, on which we Greeks Much toil bestow'd, and which we vainly hop'd Might guard, impregnable, ourselves and ships; Seems it the will of Saturn's mighty son That, far from Argos, from our native land, We all should here in nameless graves be laid. I knew when once he lov'd to aid the Greeks; But now I see that to the blessed Gods Our foes he equals, and our strength confounds. Hear then my counsel; let us all agree The ships that nearest to the sea are beach'd To launch upon the main, till nightfall there To ride at anchor: if that e'en by night The Trojans may suspend their fierce assault; Then may we launch in safety all the fleet. No shame it is to fly, although by night, Impending evil; better so to fly Than by the threaten'd danger be o'erta'en."

To whom, with scornful glance, Ulysses sage: "What words have pass'd the barrier of thy lips, Thou son of Atreus? counsellor of ill! Would thou hadst been of some ignoble band The leader, not the chief of such a host As ours, on whom, from youth to latest age, Jove hath the gift bestow'd, to bear the brunt Of hardy war, till ev'ry man be slain. And think'st thou so to leave the lofty walls Of Troy, the object of our painful toil? Be silent, that no other Greek may hear Words, which no man might trust his tongue to speak, Who nobler counsels understands, and wields A royal sceptre, and th' allegiance claims Of numbers, such as those that own thy sway. Thy counsels all I utterly condemn; Who, 'mid the close and clamour of the fight, Wouldst have us launch our ships, and give the foe, Already too triumphant, cause renew'd For boasting; then were death our certain lot; For, if the ships he launch'd, not long will Greeks Sustain the war, but with reverted eyes Shrink from the fight; to such pernicious end Would lead thy baneful counsels, mighty chief."