From Book 16 of Sonnets from the Iliad by D J Etchell:
167
Patroclus, to Achilles went and wept,
And told him of those grief’s which fell upon
The Argives and that weapon’s hail which swept
Upon their heroes, wounding every one.
He begged that great lord, as he would not fight
That all his Myrmidons should have release
To follow him, geared in that armour bright
Of great Achilles, bringing Greeks relief.
Danaans seeing this would courage gain,
Whilst all the clans of Troy would feel dismay;
To see Achilles from his truce abstain
And think he rushed back fiercely to the fray.
In innocence, his supplications there
Were soon the bitter fruits of death to bear.
168
Achilles thus reluctantly agreed
To let Patroclus put his armour on,
And then to lead his Myrmidons with speed
To fight Troy at the ships, till all were gone.
He placed a stern injunction on his friend,
That this deed done, he must at once return
And to the dry plains other Argives send,
And not in pride for battle honours yearn.
Back at the black ships Ajax could not hold
As evil volleys rained down where he stood;
Then gleaming Hector with his sword made bold
To cleave his spear-head from the strong ash wood.
Ajax shuddered, turning fast away,
Knowing where the will of Lord Zeus lay.
169
The Trojans brought down, weariless, red fire,
Then quenchless flame spread over all the ship.
Achilles as he saw that raging pyre
Told Patroclus—“Rapidly equip!”
His friend then took that god-wrought armour, bright,
And round his shins first placed the well wrought greaves,
With silver clasps they gripped his ankles tight,
The corselet next he took from Achilles—
Chased with stars, to decorate the breast,
He donned it, taking then his silvered sword
And heavy shield and helm with horsehair crest,
Whose plumes of terror marked its dreaded lord.
And last two spears, yet not that mighty one
Which Cheiron had brought down from Pelion.
170
Automedon, then went to yoke the steeds:
Immortals, gifted with the west wind’s speed.
Achilles roused his men for deadly deeds
Those Myrmidons who aided him in need.
As wolves that tear flesh raw in ceaseless anger
With tireless fury, till jowls run with blood;
They armoured, ready then, for none may linger
When tides of war run wildly at the flood.
Men from fifty ships that lord commanded,
Of whom, Achilles picked out leaders, five;
Then at their stations, in stern words, demanded;
That there for deathless glory all should strive.
Then on the ships his hungry pack descends,
Those men with eyes of fire and hearts of fiends.
171
Achilles, troubled, to his shelter went
And found the chest which lovely Thetis gave;
Inside it was the goblet Zeus had sent,
Reserved for when libations must be made.
He scoured the vessel clean with sulphur stones
And washed it clean with water from the spring,
Then poured in wine and prayed in reverent tones
That Zeus should to Patroclus glory bring,
And lead him back to safety, fighting done.
Prayers were made: the son of Cronos heard him,
And of the two things asked for, granted one:
The life-light of Patroclus, soon must dim.
Libations made, Achilles went to stand
And watch his friend make combat, hand to hand.
172
The Myrmidons came streaming down like wasps
Made angry by the torments of young boys,
There each one in his soul wild fury clasps
As down around the ships, that swarm deploys.
Patroclus then called out so loud and clear:
“Remember now what we are sent to bring!
The greatest of the Argives sends us here,
The valour of his henchmen, measures him.”
The Trojans there who saw the roaring throng,
Looked on that reckless charge with sheer dismay,
Shaken, that Achilles seemed to come,
Each looked around for paths to run away.
For all then feared the death which winged toward
Their legions, borne on axe and spear and sword.
173
The leader of those bold Paeonian lords
Pyraechmes was the first of all to die;
Patroclus thus drove fear among Troy’s hordes,
Who then from half burnt ships in panic fly.
Danaans streamed back strong, as battle’s clamour
Rose like thunder, stirred by Cronos’ son;
Though Trojans tried against the Argive armour,
It was by Greek lords, deeds of death were done.
As wolves bring havoc to spring herds with fury,
When, then, the young ones fall to them as prey,
That panic ran among the Trojan army
As sheep which see their new-born snatched away.
The valour which had driven Troy was gone,
Then they remembered terror, every one.
174
In the mêlée, Ajax looked to slay
Hector, with a spear cast from his arm.
The Trojan with his shield would not give way
And used his war-craft well, avoiding harm.
With outcry they fell back in shamed retreat
Confusion’s streams then ran across Troy’s plain.
Patroclus urged on Argives to defeat
Those whom he saw yet by their ships remain.
His swift, immortal, horses swiftly drew
His car across that ditch, where many spilled;
Though to safety Hector’s horses flew,
Their flight with that great lord occurred, unwilled.
There dust clouds rose from feet which choked the ways,
Of those who sought an exit from death’s maze.
175
The noise which rose from Troy’s steeds as they fled
Was as those waters on an autumn day
Which Zeus sends down in rage, and mortals dread,
When for impious actions they must pay.
Then all their rivers swell in fullest spate,
As through the dark ravines fast waters flee,
No works of man their forces can abate
As with huge roar they crash down to the sea.
Patroclus ran swift, slaying, through their ranks
Pronous there and Thestor he cut down;
And others at the centre and the flanks,
He reaped that harvest: death, which war had sown.
It seemed that into rout Troy’s day had run,
Until into the fray came Sarpedon.
176
From their chariots leapt down those two
As hook clawed vultures screaming for revenge;
Then in wild frenzy, at each other flew
With bitter bronze, in deadliest exchange.
Zeus who watched them knew their destiny
And spoke to Hera, pitying, of one
Who fate had marked out for death’s victory,
The dearest of all men, young Sarpedon.
He pondered, if to thwart, ‘the writ of doom’
For he could lift the hero far away;
A thought condemned by other gods there, whom
Had sons who fought amid that deadly fray.
Hera said to ease the pain of loss
Send down to him lords Hypnos, Thanatos.
177
Zeus then knew he could not disobey
And yet wept tears of blood for his dear son
Who by fate’s laws had come to his last day,
For him life’s sands had little time to run.
Patroclus threw the first spear bringing death
To Thrasymelus, henchman to Troy’s chief.
Then Sarpedon robbed Pedasus of breath
That mortal steed was sent where night holds fief.
Automedon slashed through the fouled trace rein
And once again the heroes thundered close,
Then Sarpedon a bronze spear cast in vain
And Patroclus his second lance let loose.
This ran true and struck the beating heart
Of Sarpedon, who there must life depart.
178
That lord fell as an oak or towering pine
Hewn down by axes whetted for the task,
He clawed the dust and roared in mortal pain
To Glaucus: “You must do the thing I ask!
Defend the body that this Greek has won.”
Patroclus braced his heel against the chest
To drag his spearhead out from Sarpedon
And with it, life, the ruined body left.
Yet Glaucus could not aid his fallen friend
As pain still from his wound ran through his arm;
He prayed that lord Apollo swift might send,
Him strength to save the corpse from further harm.
Apollo heard his prayer and stopped the pain,
Then healed the wound so he might fight again.
179
Then Glaucus roused up all the Lycians
To fight to reclaim, fallen, Sarpedon
And drive away the wolfish Myrmidons;
Dishonour to his corpse, then could not come.
Whilst Hector lead in fury those from Troy,
Patroclus roused the Argives to defend,
So they could hold the body and destroy
Those who came to claim their fallen friend.
The Lycians and Myrmidons fought hard
And Trojans thrusted ’gainst Achaian shields,
And shouldered back the Greek ranks yard by yard,
Then came the turn of Ilium’s men to yield.
Glaucus then came forth, yet no side won,
And weapons piling high hid Sarpedon.
180
The armies buzzed like flies around the corpse,
As those which swarm round milk pails in the spring.
Then Zeus glared downwards, giving angry thought
To how death’s curse to Patroclus he’d bring.
It seemed that it would serve his purpose best
If all the Grecian forces made for Troy;
He stole away the strength from Hector’s breast,
Who thus called out to all around to fly.
They stripped the armour then from Sarpedon
And to the ships they bore it as their prize.
Zeus then sent swift Apollo to his son
To save him from the gore of his demise.
The corpse he washed and carried far away
There, honoured, in ambrosial robes it lay.
181
Then, in charge of those twins: Death and Sleep,
The silent form of Sarpedon was placed,
To take for green Lycia’s groves to keep;
Forever honoured, nevermore disgraced.
Patroclus charged then at the Trojan horde
For, raw blind fury spurred him to his fate;
‘Forgo this’, was the last commanding word
By which Achilles tried to curb his hate.
But there besotted by his bloodlust’s urge
Patroclus reached the towers at Troy’s gate.
There, thrice, Apollo stopped his fury’s surge
He came again, then darkly, Phoebus spoke.
Give way, for Troy will never fall to you
Nor to Achilles is that glory due.
182
Avoiding danger, Patroclus gave way,
To him whose anger brings death from afar.
Behind Troy’s gates, in safety, Hector lay,
And pondered if he should charge out to war.
Apollo in disguise as Asius,
Described his path to glory, if he went
And gained by arms the death of Patroclus;
Thus back to fight, in hope, was Hector sent.
Patroclus saw him springing, swift, to ground,
And took a jagged stone up which he threw
It missed great Hector, yet another found
That deadly mass at Cebriones flew.
Thus Hector’s driver’s skull, by it was smashed,
There falling down to earth he breathed his last.
183
Patroclus mocked: “How agile was that fall,
Like one who dives for oysters from a boat,”
And then above the body he stood tall,
Till Hector sprang to spoil the Argive rout.
They fought like lions over a killed deer
With raging hunger, each to claim the prize,
At head and foot they at the body tore
Yet matched in strength, each, victory denies.
Their armies clashed as east and southern winds
Which in the valleys shake the crowded trees.
There volleys, thick, from those opposing bands
Sent many to their final destinies.
As evening came Achaian might grew strong,
And from death’s clamour Cebriones won.
184
Patroclus charged the Trojan legions thrice,
Each time he came he cut down foemen: nine;
Yet on the fourth, Apollo by device,
Well veiled in mist slipped through the battle line,
And struck that hero, casting down his helm,
He stood defenceless, dizzy, with wits dimmed;
Euphorbus speared him, opening death’s realm,
Which he must enter as Lord Zeus had deemed.
Hector saw Patroclus try to fly,
And drove his spear point through his midriff clear;
Then all, in horror, saw that he must die,
The one, whom to Achilles was most dear.
Thunderously then, Patroclus fell,
The Argive groans there tolled his dying knell.
185
Hector stood above the fallen one
And spoke in triumph then, with wingéd words;
That though for Troy’s destruction he had come,
Soon, he would be carrion for birds.
Replied Patroclus, “Though my death is yours,
But for Apollo, this would not be so;
Twenty like you with their shining spears
Without his help could not have laid me low.
That god’s help, with Euphorbus’ spear, combined
To cloud my strength with deadly destiny.
You take my life now as great Zeus has deigned,
Poor, third slayer, in this victory.”
With dying words he spoke this prophecy:
“That soon in Hades you will sleep, near me.”