Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/145

163—211 When, fierce in war, where Jardan's waters fall,

I led my troops to Phea's trembling wall,

And with the Arcadian spears my prowess tried,

Where Celadon rolls down his rapid tide.

There Ereuthalion braved us in the field,

Proud, Areïthous' dreadful arms to wield;

Great Areïthous, known from shore to shore

By the huge, knotted, iron mace he bore;

No lance he shook, nor bent the twanging bow,

But broke, with this, the battle of the foe.

Him not by manly force Lycurgus slew,

Whose guileful javelin from the thicket flew,

Deep in a winding way his breast assailed,

Nor aught the warrior's thundering mace availed:

Supine he fell: those arms which Mars before

Had given the vanquished, now the victor bore:

But when old age had dimmed Lycurgus' eyes,

To Ereuthalion he consigned the prize.

Furious with this, he crushed our levelled bands,

And dared the trial of the strongest hands;

Nor could the strongest hands his fury stay;

All saw, and feared, his huge tempestuous sway;

Till I, the youngest of the host, appeared,

And, youngest, met whom all our army feared.

I fought the chief; my arms Minerva crowned:

Prone fell the giant o'er a length of ground.

What then he was, oh were your Nestor now!

Not Hector's self should want an equal foe.

But warriors, you, that youthful vigour boast,

The flower of Greece, the examples of our host,

Sprung from such fathers, who such numbers sway,

Can you stand trembling, and desert the day?"

His warm reproofs the listening kings inflame;

And nine, the noblest of the Grecian name,

Upstarted fierce: but far before the rest

The king of men advanced his dauntless breast;

Then bold Tydides, great in arms, appeared;

And next his bulk gigantic Ajax reared.

Oileus followed: Idomen was there,

And Merion, dreadful as the god of war:

With these Eurypylus and Thoas stand,

And wise Ulysses closed the daring band.

All these, alike inspired with noble rage,

Demand the fight. To whom the Pylian sage:

"Lest thirst of glory your brave souls divide,

What chief shall combat, let the lots decide.

Whom heaven shall choose, be his the chance to raise

His country's fame, his own immortal praise."

The lots produced, each hero signs his own;