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nydus/The IliadPublic

The epic poem which follows a Greek warrior who refuses to give up his prize of war.

Page 355 of 530
Table of Contents

Book XVI

valiant son. His father stood Priest at the altar of Idaean Jove, And like a god was honored by the realm. Below the jaw and ear Meriones Smote him, and instantly the life forsook His limbs, and fearful darkness shrouded him. Straight at Meriones Aeneas aimed His brazen spear to smite him, as he came, Beneath his buckler; but the Greek beheld The weapon in the air, and, stooping low, Escaped it; over him it passed, and stood Fixed in the earth behind him, where its stem Trembled, for now the rapid steel had spent Its force. As thus it quivered in the ground, Aeneas, who perceived that it had left His powerful hand in vain, was vexed, and said: “Had I but struck thee, dancer as thou art, Meriones, my spear had suddenly Ended thy dancing.” Then Meriones, The skilful spearman, answered: “Thou art brave, But thou wilt find it hard to overcome The might of all who gather to repulse Thy onset. Thou art mortal, and if I, Aiming at thee with my good spear, should pierce Thy bosom, valiant as thou art and proud Of thy strong arm, thy death would bring me praise, And send thy soul where gloomy Pluto dwells.”

He spake; the brave Patroclus heard, and thus Rebuked him: “Why wilt thou, Meriones, With all thy valor, stand to make a speech? The foe, my friend, will not be forced to leave The corpse by insults; some of them must die. In deeds the issue of a battle lies; Words are for counsel. Now is not the time To utter swelling phrases, but to fight.”

He ended, and went on; the godlike man Followed his steps. As when from mountain dells Rises, and far is heard, a crashing sound Where woodmen fell the trees, such was the noise From those who fought on that wide plain⁠—the din Of brass, of leather, and of tough bull’s-hide Smitten with swords and two-edged spears. No eye, Although of keenest sight, would then have known Noble Sarpedon, covered as he lay, From head to foot, with weapons, blood, and dust; And still the warriors thronged around the dead. As when in spring-time at the cattle-stalls Flies gather, humming, when the milk is drawn, Round the full pails, so

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