For even two important aid may yield.
Great is the power of union, even of men
For prowess not distinguish'd, and we both
Have known full well to combat with the brave.
This said, the god withdrew among the throng
Of toiling heroes: but Idomeneus,
Returning to his tent, was soon array'd
In splendid arms, and took two shining spears.
Then forth he came, the lightning's vivid flash
Resembling," when the son of Saturn hurls
His dreadful thunderbolt with powerful arm,
A sign to mortals, from the Olympian height,
When all the mountain brightens with the blaze,
And dazzling splendors gleam through heaven's expanse;
So shone the polish'd armor of the king,
As towards the fight he hasten'd. Near his tent
Meriones he met, his comrade bold,"
Who to replace a broken javelin came.
Him, thus the might of Idomen address'd: P
O son of Molus, Merion swift of foot,
My best belov'd associate! Why hast thou
Come hither, leaving now the burning strife?
Hast thou sustained a wound, retaining still
The weapon's painful head? or dost thou bring
To me some message? Never in my tent
Choose I to loiter, but to fight return.
To whom, discreetly, thus Meriones :
O prince of Cretans, clad in brazen arms,
I come to get a javelin from thy tent,
If any there remain; for that which late
I bore in battle, on the shield I broke
Of proud Deiphobus, that boastful chief.
The Cretan monarch Idomen replied:
Spears truly thou shalt find within my tent;
Not one alone, but twenty, if thou wilt,
Against the walls reclining, beamy bright,
From Trojans taken, whom myself have slain;
For not aloof from enemies do I
The battle wage. Hence many spears I have,
And bossy bucklers; many starry helms
And polish'd breastplates, beautiful and bright.
Him, thoughtful Merion answer'd wisely, thus:
I also, in my tent and sable ship,
Have many Trojan spoils; though now not near.
Neither have I forgotten, in the least,
My valor, but among the foremost stand
Conspicuous when the fire of battle burns.
Some other of the mail-clad Grecian host
May not have seen my deeds; but thou, I think,
Hast known them well. To this Idomeneus,
The Cretan king: Full well, indeed, I know
How great thy valor. Is it requisite
To tell me this? For, should we at the ships
Be now selected, (all the bravest men,)
To form an ambush, in which service hard
Courage is best distinguish'd, who is base
And who is valiant evidently seen;
(For then the dastard's color, changing oft,
Betrays his inward fear; he cannot sit
With mind compos'd and steady, but he shrinks
Crouching, with bended knees and feet drawn up;
His heart beats quick, with palpitation strong,
Against his trembling bosom, while his teeth
Chatter with rattling noise; not so the brave;
His color fix'd abides, nor does he feel
Excessive tremor, from the moment when
He stands in ambush, but his bosom beats
With stern impatience for the bloody strife :)
E'en in that trying scene none would deny
Thy courage and thy prowess; for whene'er
A spear or arrow shall have smitten thee
Toiling in battle, not upon thy nape,
Nor in thy back that weapon will have struck,
But in thy breast or bowels, full in front,
As forward thou art rushing, through the crowd
Of heroes in the van. But let us march,
And talk no longer, idly standing here
Like prattling boys, lest some with censure foul
Bewray us both. Go thou into my tent
And take a javelin of the largest there.
He said; Meriones, a match for Mars,
Took instantly a javelin from the tent,
And, ardent for the combat, to the field
Follow'd Idomeneus. As direful Mars, q
The bane of mortals, marches to the war,
And Terror follows him, his favorite son,
Dauntless and strong, whose dreadful countenance
Appals the bravest hero; they from Thrace
Come, clad in armor, to th' Ephyrian bands,
Or Phlegyans stout and bold; the prayers of both
They heed not, but to either glory give,
According to their will; so terrible,
Idomeneus and Merion, chiefs of men,
Array'd in shining arms to battle rush'd.
But Merion first address'd the Cretan king:
Son of Deucalion, at what point wilt thou
The combat join? Upon our army's right?
Or in the centre? or the left wing now
Shall we prefer? for nowhere else our aid
So needful seems, to save Achaia's host.
To him Idomeneus, the Cretan king :
Others there are the centre to defend ;
The two Ajaces; Teucer, who excels
All other Greeks in skilful archery,
And does good service too in standing fight.
They will employ him well; strong as he is,
And rous'd with utmost fury to the fight;
E'en Hector, Priam's son; hard will it be
For him, however fierce and terrible,
Their martial strength, invincible till now,
To conquer and to fire Achaia's fleet;
If Jove in person cast no burning torch
Upon our ships; for not indeed to man,
Will Ajax son of Telamon succumb;
If mortal man he be, upon the fruits
Of Ceres fed, and may be smitten through
By javelins, or be crush'd by pond'rous rocks.
Not even to Achilles would he yield,
(That breaker of the squadrons) in close fight,
Though in pursuit he cannot vie with him.
Now let us therefore on the left engage,
That quickly we may know whether renown
To others we shall yield, or from them win.
He said; and Merion, like impetuous Mars,
Flew to the battle where the chief enjoin'd.
The Trojans when they saw Idomeneus,
Dreadful in combat as devouring fire,
Attended by his comrade, both array'd
In arms refulgent, all against him rush'd,
With mutual exhortations.
Both armies fought with equal fury near
The naval prows. As when by whistling winds,
Storms are excited in a sultry day,
When all the roads with stifling dust are fill'd,
A cloud immense is rais'd, and high in air
It low'ring stands; so dense the warring crowds
Encounter'd, with fell purpose, all intent
To reach with javelins keen their foemen's hearts.
The life-destroying battle, horror glar'd
Excessive," bristling with long lances, held
In hands of heroes, flesh of men to wound!
The blaze of burnish'd armor on all sides
Dazzled the eye, from helmets glitt'ring bright,
From newly-polish'd breastplates, from broad shields
Refulgent, as together terribly
The warriors rush'd. Truly, of dauntless heart
He must have been, who could with joy have view'd
That scene, and in his bosom felt no dread!
Two mighty sons of Saturn opposite,
Contriv'd for many heroes cruel woes.
Jove to the Trojans and their mighty chief,
Design'd the vict'ry, glory to confer
On swift Achilles; yet intended not
Entire destruction to Achaia's host,
Beneath the walls of Ilion; though he gave
Glory to Thetis and her matchless son.
But Neptune interposing, rous'd anew
The Greeks to combat, (from his hoary deep
Emerging secretly,) for much it griev'd
His heart to see them by the Trojans slain,
And furious was his wrath against heaven's king.
Both powers celestial they, of race divine,
And parentage the same; but Jove supreme
Was eldest, and in wisdom far excell'd.
Hence Neptune dar'd not openly give aid,
But, veil'd in human shape, by secret art
Inspir'd the Greeks with valor, and impell'd
To strife incessant. Thus those powerful gods
The chain of furious discord and dire war
All-levelling, around both armies drew,
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