第66章 BOOK XI(4)

Some in the earth stood; many glanced away With bent points falling baffled from the shields Battered on all sides. But that clangorous din None feared; none flinched; as pattering drops of rain They heard it. Up to the rampart's foot they marched:

None hung back; shoulder to shoulder on they came Like a long lurid cloud that o'er the sky Cronion trails in wild midwinter-tide.

On that battalion moved, with thunderous tread Of tramping feet: a little above the earth Rose up the dust; the breeze swept it aside Drifting away behind the men. There went A sound confused of voices with them, like The hum of bees that murmur round the hives, And multitudinous panting, and the gasp Of men hard-breathing. Exceeding glad the sons Of Atreus, glorying in them, saw that wall Unwavering of doom-denouncing war.

In one dense mass against the city-gate They hurled themselves, with twibills strove to breach The long walls, from their hinges to upheave The gates, and dash to earth. The pulse of hope Beat strong in those proud hearts. But naught availed Targes nor levers, when Aeneas' might Swung in his hands a stone like a thunderbolt, Hurled it with uttermost strength, and dashed to death All whom it caught beneath the shields, as when A mountain's precipice-edge breaks off and falls On pasturing goats, and all that graze thereby Tremble; so were those Danaans dazed with dread.

Stone after stone he hurled on the reeling ranks, As when amid the hills Olympian Zeus With thunderbolts and blazing lightnings rends From their foundations crags that rim a peak, And this way, that way, sends them hurtling down;

Then the flocks tremble, scattering in wild flight;

So quailed the Achaeans, when Aeneas dashed To sudden fragments all that battle-wall Moulded of adamant shields, because a God Gave more than human strength. No man of them Could lift his eyes unto him in that fight, Because the arms that lapped his sinewy limbs Flashed like the heaven-born lightnings. At his side Stood, all his form divine in darkness cloaked, Ares the terrible, and winged the flight Of what bare down to the Argives doom or dread.

He fought as when Olympian Zeus himself From heaven in wrath smote down the insolent bands Of giants grim, and shook the boundless earth, And sea, and ocean, and the heavens, when reeled The knees of Atlas neath the rush of Zeus.

So crumbled down beneath Aeneas' bolts The Argive squadrons. All along the wall Wroth with the foeman rushed he: from his hands Whatso he lighted on in onslaught-haste Hurled he; for many a battle-staying bolt Lay on the walls of those staunch Dardan men.

With such Aeneas stormed in giant might, With such drave back the thronging foes. All round The Trojans played the men. Sore travail and pain Had all folk round the city: many fell, Argives and Trojans. Rang the battle-cries:

Aeneas cheered the war-fain Trojans on To fight for home, for wives, and their own souls With a good heart: war-staunch Achilles' son Shouted: "Flinch not, ye Argives, from the walls, Till Troy be taken, and sink down in flames!"

And round these twain an awful measureless roar Rang, daylong as they fought: no breathing-space Came from the war to them whose spirits burned, These, to smite Ilium, those, to guard her safe.

But from Aeneas valiant-souled afar Fought Aias, speeding midst the men of Troy Winged death; for now his arrow straight through air Flew, now his deadly dart, and smote them down One after one: yet others cowered away Before his peerless prowess, and abode The fight no more, but fenceless left the wall Then one, of all the Locrians mightiest, Fierce-souled Alcimedon, trusting in his prince And his own might and valour of his youth, All battle-eager on a ladder set Swift feet, to pave for friends a death-strewn path Into the town. Above his head he raised The screening shield; up that dread path he went Hardening his heart from trembling, in his hand Now shook the threatening spear, now upward climbed ?

Fast high in air he trod the perilous way.

Now on the Trojans had disaster come, But, even as above the parapet His head rose, and for the first time and the last From her high rampart he looked down on Troy, Aeneas, who had marked, albeit afar, That bold assault, rushed on him, dashed on his head So huge a stone that the hero's mighty strength Shattered the ladder. Down from on high he rushed As arrow from the string: death followed him As whirling round he fell; with air was blent His lost life, ere he crashed to the stony ground.

Strong spear, broad shield, in mid fall flew from his hands, And from his head the helm: his corslet came Alone with him to earth. The Locrian men Groaned, seeing their champion quelled by evil doom;

For all his hair and all the stones around Were brain-bespattered: all his bones were crushed, And his once active limbs besprent with gore.

Then godlike Poeas' war-triumphant son Marked where Aeneas stormed along the wall In lion-like strength, and straightway shot a shaft Aimed at that glorious hero, neither missed The man: yet not through his unyielding targe To the fair flesh it won, being turned aside By Cytherea and the shield, but grazed The buckler lightly: yet not all in vain Fell earthward, but between the targe and helm Smote Medon: from the tower he fell, as falls A wild goat from a crag, the hunter's shaft Deep in its heart: so nerveless-flung he fell, And fled away from him the precious life.

Wroth for his friend, a stone Aeneas hurled, And Philoctetes' stalwart comrade slew, Toxaechmes; for he shattered his head and crushed Helmet and skull-bones; and his noble heart Was stilled. Loud shouted princely Poeas' son:

"Aeneas, thou, forsooth, dost deem thyself A mighty champion, fighting from a tower Whence craven women war with foes! Now if Thou be a man, come forth without the wall In battle-harness, and so learn to know In spear-craft and in bow-craft Poeas' son!"

So cried he; but Anchises' valiant seed, How fain soe'er, naught answered, for the stress Of desperate conflict round that wall and burg Ceaselessly raging: pause from fight was none:

Yea, for long time no respite had there been For the war-weary from that endless toil.