Early Modern Mythological Texts: Troia Britanica XIII (1-50)
Thomas Heywood. Troia Britanica (1609)
CANTO XIII (1-50)
Stanzas 1-10 — 11-20 — 21-30 — 31-40 — 41-50 — 51-111
Ed. Patricia DORVAL
Achilles dotes on beauteous Polyxene,
And at her fair request refrains the field.
The truce expired, both hosts prepare again
For battle with proud hearts, in valour steeled.
The Greeks are beat back, many killed and ta’en.
Patroclus dons Achilles’ arms and shield.
Him Hector for Achilles took and slew,
Whose armour gone, his mother seeks him new.
Argumentum 2
Truce after combat, Hecuba is won,
By Paris’ means, to league with Thetis’ son.
wake, soft Muse, from sleep, and after rest
Show thyself quick and active in thy way.
Thy labouring flight and travel long oppressed
Is comforted; no longer then delay,
But with thy swiftest wings, fly in the quest
Of thy prefixèd goal: the happy day
In which this kingdom did her wide arms spread
To embrace King James, our sovereign Lord and head.
And you, great Lord, to whom I dedicate
A second work, the issue of my brain,
Accept this twin to that you saw of late,
Sib to the first and of the selfsame strain,
That only crave the shelters of your state,
To keep it from all storms of hail and rain,
Who neither dread the rage of winds or thunder,
Whilst your fair roof they may be shadowed under.
Your favour and protection decks my phrase,
And is to me like Ariadne’s clew
To guide me through the labyrinthian maze,
In which my brain’s entangled. ’Tis by you
That every vulgar eye hath leave to gaze,
And on this project takes free interview,
Which, but t’express a due debt yet unpaid,
Had still remained unperfect and unmade.
Proceed we then, and where we left repair:
About his head, the tree rough Ajax flings,
Like to a threatening meteor in the air,
Which where it lights exitial ruin brings;
Such seems th’ungrounded oak, leafless and bare,
Who shakes o’er Hector’s crest her rooted strings,
And with such rude impetuous fury fell,
T’have dinged him through the centre down to hell.
But Hector with his broad shield waits the fall,
Which shivers all the plates of his strong targe.
The Grecian’s too much fury strikes withal
The plant from his own hands in his rough charge.
Unarmed once more they grapple to make thrall
Each other’s strength; their arms sinewy and large,
About their sides, with mutual strength they cling,
And wrestling strive which can each other fling.
6
When, lo, the kings on both sides much admiring
Their never equalled valour, loath to lose
Such champions, in whose charging or retiring
Their spring of victory declines or flows―
Their conquests droop towards earth or rise aspiring―,
The general of each host his warder throws
Between the combatants, who still contend
By flight of strength to give the difference end.
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7 Two guards from either army step between Their heated furies till their blood retired, For with fresh breath, they both abate their spleen, And cease that combat thousands late admired. Instead of blows, their friendly arms are seen T’enfold each other―with new loves inspired―; Ajax his belt plucks from athwart his breast, And gives to Hector, of all knights the best, |
An interchange of gifts betwixt Hector and Ajax |
Who takes a good sword fleshed on many a foe,
And interchanged with Ajax―but O, Fate,
Two ominous tokens these good knights bestow,
Which to themselves proved most unfortunate:
To Hector’s heels must Ajax’ baldric grow,
And three times drag him by each Trojan gate,
Whose sight whole Troy with clamorous shrieks shall fill,
With Hector’s sword, Ajax must Ajax kill.
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These passages of friendship given and took, Behold, a herald from the town appears, Who greets the proud Greeks with a friendly look From Priam, reverent both in state and years. Them, whom but late the Trojans could not brook, Troy now invites, and for a space forbears All hostile hate between both hosts, proclaiming A day of jubilee for feast and gaming. |
A truce |
The faith of Hector as best hostage given,
Th’invasive kings in peace the city enter,
Whom Priam feasts, with all that under heaven
Can be found rare, or bred above the centre.
The dames and damsels, all pale fear bereaven,
Amongst the dreadful Greeks dare freely venture,
And they that late did fright them above measure,
Have liberty to sport and court their pleasure.
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Unpeerèd Hector, who had never seen Achilles―but on horseback armed―before, Eyes him with pleasure, and forgets all spleen, And Thetis’ son that, but in blood and gore Stained and besmeared, had never Hector seen, Freely surveys his shape—his robes he wore— His brawny limbs, broad bulk, his face and stature, Nor can he but applaud the pride of nature. |
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To whom Achilles thus: “Hector, I see
A presence I could love, but his fame hate;
’Tis thy renown alone doth blemish me,
And makes me in these wars unfortunate;
I never yet dropped blood, but drained by thee,
For which my teen is grown inveterate;
Nor could I relish pleasure, but still trusting
To end thy days, by sword fight, or by justing.”
To him the hero mildly thus replies:
“Aeacides pursues a double wrong,
That comes from Greece our city to surprise,
And raze our walls that we have builded strong.
Your loves we hold dear, but your hates despise,
As opposites that dare not front us long.
If more thou wouldst, to arms refer the rest.
Sit, for th’art welcome, freely taste our feast.”
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Priam and Agamemnon take chief place, The rest are ranked unto their states or fames: Troilus and Diomed sit face to face, And ’gin to brawl, for Diomedes blames Troilus, and Troilus him, to his disgrace. The jar’s appeased, for see, the fairest dames Of the best bloods of Troy, richly attired, Bring in the queen, whose state the Greeks admired. |
The Greeks feasted by Priam
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Helen, Troy’s firebrand, sat at this high feast,
Nor did she blush to see her husband there.
Him, Paris thinks a bold unwelcome guest,
And that to Helen he was placed too near.
Alone he tastes no dainties, ’mongst the rest,
Her very sight hath cloyed him without cheer.
On Hecuba fair Polyxene attended,
Whose beauty great Achilles most commended.
Now the revolted Calchas free time found
’Gainst Troilus lovely Cressid to persuade,
With arguments and words so firm and sound,
The Trojan now no more may court the maid.
King Diomed must henceforth be the ground
Of all her passionate love; she can be stayed
In Troy no longer, though she wished it rather;
She’s but a child and must obey her father.
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17 Whilst all the kingly leaders had loud chat Of chivalry, high bloods and deeds of war, And, as their humours led, of this or that, Of many a bleeding wound and grisly scar, Whilst some spake much and some sat mute thereat, Achilles’ eye fixed on a brighter star Than any shines, fixed ’mongst the heavenly fires, The rarest Polyxene alone admires. |
Achilles’ love to Polyxena |
He neither can dilate of noble deeds,
Nor interchange discourse of slaughtered kings,
What comes of peace or what of war proceeds,
What profit rest, what hurt invasion brings;
His new dissolvèd heart within him bleeds,
And from his rocky breast a fountain springs
Of passion, only by her sight engendered,
In place of which old hate is quite surrendered.
It now repents him he hath lift a blade
Against the sire that such a child hath bred,
Or to the place that fostered that sweet maid,
His bloody Myrmidons to battle led,
Or that his dreadful hand did once invade
Her brother, for whose love he’s well-nigh dead,
To gain whose beauty, he could find in heart
Greece to renounce, and take the Trojans’ part.
Queen Hecuba observes Achilles’ passion,
Thinking to make it useful to her good,
That the most strong of all the Argive nation
Shall for her daughter’s sake spare Trojan blood.
By this, the feast and royal preparation
Breaks up; the kings that on their honours stood,
With bounteous thanks take leave, bent on the morrow,
This truceful joy to mix with hostile sorrow.
The selfsame night, by Hecuba’s advice,
Unto Achilles’ tent fair Paris sends,
Offering his sister’s love―held at high price―
Mixed with the agèd Queen’s most kind commends.
With courteous words, the bold Greek they entice
To leave the siege, which Thetis’ son intends,
Her nuptial bed being promised, with much joy;
Answer’s returned, he’ll war no more ’gainst Troy.
Now while he rests him in his idle tent,
And to his amorous harp love ditties sings,
Both armies sundry stratagems invent.
Great Hector to the field his puissance brings;
Upon the plain, appears incontinent
A gallant host led by th’encampèd kings.
War’s music sounds, Mars trots upon his steed
O’er thousand mangled sides that freshly bleed.
23
Sometime the Trojan leaders, with their powers,
Even to their palisadoes beat the foe,
Whence being repulsed, the camp the champion scours,
And fore Troy’s gates their purple lances grow,
Whom th’issue from the city soon devours;
Again the Greek sustains great overthrow;
Again, relieved, the Trojan powers they face,
Whom to their tents again the Dardans chase.
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Full thirty days together Fortune strives To make their conquest doubtful, in which time, Unnumbered knights on both parts lost their lives, Some in their wane of years, some in their prime, Some slain outright, some captived put in gyves, Some lose their fame, and some to honours climb, Amongst whom Hector in the first rank stands, For deeds of name wrought by his warlike hands. |
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25
Though far-feared Ajax did high works of fame,
And black-haired Agamemnon boldly fought,
Though strong-limbed Diomed his worth proclaim
By martial acts ’midst fields of slaughter wrought,
Though Nestor oft-times to the battle came,
And, to his strength and age, for honour fought,
Though Menelaus oft in field was seen,
Ulysses too, more full of guile than spleen,
26
Though these and more among themselves contended
With emulation to achieve most praise,
Yet when great Hector to the field descended,
Backed by his brothers, their swift current stays,
Above them all, his glorious worth extended;
The Greeks grow war-tired after thirty days,
And beaten to their trenches much decayed,
They jointly flock t’implore Achilles’ aid,
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27 Who with his Myrmidons from field abstains, In hope to gain the fairest dame alive. Still through the fields, remorseless slaughter reigns, The Greeks beyond their parapets they drive; Still they entreat, he still their words disdains. Within the camp’s skirts he may hear them strive, Yet, all this notwithstanding, he seems loath To arm himself against a sacred oath. |
Achilles his abstinence from battle
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28
But when he saw the wounded soldiers run
Their bleeding heads amongst the tents to hide,
Heard by their swords so many slaughters done,
Beheld some mangled, that before him died,
Found how the foe their camp had well nigh won,
Perceived the fire burn bright on every side,
Himself surcharged with flames, in his tent sweating,
And all the princes by his bed entreating,
29
He then relents, and at their fair request,
He’ll keep his oath, and yet afford them aid,
For now the man whom he esteemèd best,
He whom alone his bosom friend he made,
Patroclus, dons his arms, his shield, his crest,
And to his thigh girts his victorious blade;
And, with three hundred Myrmidons attended,
He issues where the camp was least defended.
At his appearance, when those arms were seen,
So well among the Trojans known and feared,
They make him way. Patroclus had not been
Long in the place, but all the Greeks were cheered.
They that before stood like a harnessed screen
Gave back apace, for not a man appeared;
Patroclus still advanced Achilles’ shield,
And with his Myrmidons maintains the field.
Now horrid Massacre pursues apace
Th’astonished Trojans. Paris wonders most
To see Achilles, armed, makes good the place,
And with such rage assault the Trojan host
That not a man dares their pavilions face,
Or ’gainst the Myrmidons his valour boast.
He calls him trothless, perjured, false, forsworn,
And as he speaks withal is backward borne.
The cry grows great, which Hector overhearing,
He calls upon his men to cease base flight,
And spying one above the rest appearing,
Dreadful in shape and all imbrued in fight,
His quakeful hand and sword so often rearing,
He takes him for the warlike Pelean knight,
Achilles, of the Grecians great’st in pride,
Whom he had oft before in battle tried.
He chooseth from his page an oaken spear
Hewed from the heart of Jove’s relentless tree,
And couching it, spurs with a full carrier
Against Patroclus. His proud steed was free,
And like a shot star doth his rider bear,
At every plunge the ground near kissed his knee;
His constant aim, that never erred at need,
Tops the proud Greek from off his noble steed.
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34 And now Achilles’ armour strows the field, Patroclus lies upon the verdure spread; Here lay his sword, and there his trusty shield. The Myrmidons―as had their lord been dead, And never more victorious arms should wield― All in disordered ranks retired and fled. Achilles’ arms seized, who durst longer stay? This was the cause the Dardan won the day. |
Patroclus slain
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When dead by Hector was Menoetius’ son,
And that his wounded body strowed the plain,
Quoth Hector: “Now Achilles’ arms are won,
These are mine own, and these will I maintain.”
He strips the fair Patroclus new foredone,
And thought at first Achilles he had slain.
But when he saw one not of godlike kind,
The arms he takes, the body leaves behind.
36
Achilles, frantic with so great disgrace,
Loss both of friend and of his glorious arms,
Torments himself with fury for a space,
Threatening to princely Hector hostile harms.
Yet when he thinks to have his life in chase,
And rouse the Worthy with his war’s alarms,
He now records his friend’s disgrace in field:
To combat him, he hath nor arms, nor shield.
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The bright-foot Amphitrite, his fair mother, Knowing the grief her son conceives at heart, Her true maternal pity cannot smother. But with her care she seeks to cure his smart: Instead of these, she will provide him other, Made by divine composure, not man’s art. And thus resolved, to Lemnos she doth hie, Where Vulcan works in heavenly ferrary. |
Thetis otherwise called Amphitrite
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She found him with his face all smooged and black,
And labouring at his forge, quite hid in smoke.
The stifling fume kept the fair goddess back;
About she was her soft steps to revoke,
But whilst the Cyclops on their anvils thwack,
She spies fair Charis, and to her she spoke,
That the lame metal god might understand
Thetis his friend, the seas’ queen, was at hand.
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Charis, the handmaid Grace, whose office still Is to strow Venus’ lovely bed with flowers, And to them both celestial nectar fill, As unto Jove himself fair Hebe pours, Prays the bright goddess but to stay until The sweaty smith his face and visage scours, And whilst she tells the god of her repair, To ease herself in a rich golden chair. |
Charis
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Charis departs; she mounts the enamelled seat, The back of solid gold richly engraved, Cut and enchased; it showed his skill was great. And in the metal too, no cost was saved, So though the frame was large, his art was neat, The four supporters round about were staved With pillars of white silver, moulded so That, by the work, the workman you may know. |
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Meantime, fair Charis to the smith relates
How fair-foot Amphitrite stays without.
At this report, lame Vulcan thanks the Fates,
Who had so well his business brought about,
The queen whose favour he so highly rates,
Should take the pain to find his concave out,
Of whom he―falling through the planets seven―
More favour found than all the rest in heaven.
With that, his apron from his breast he takes,
His airy bellows have surceased to blow;
He slecks his coals, his smoky forge forsakes,
Sponges his hands and face, then ’gins to throw
A rich robe o’er his shoulders, and so makes
Onto the queen, whose mind he longs to know.
When after many a limping curtsy made,
Thus Amphitrite doth the smith persuade:
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“If ever I was held worthy the name Of the seas’ queen, unfortunate alone, For of the seed of gods derived I came, Yet, married to a mortal, find you none, Thetis except. Yet is’t to me no shame. Behold my divine beauty, I was one Even Jove himself loved, whom, ’cause I denied, In spite he gave me to a mortal’s bride. |
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Yet am I not esteemed amongst them least, For when my high espousals were first made In the Mount Pelion, all the gods increased My glory with their presence; for none stayed Or kept away from th’Hymenean feast, Saving the goddess Discord. The spheres played Music to us; my Peleus me contented To grace, whom all the gods rich gifts presented. |
Staphylus, book on Thessalia
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Jove gave us Graces on our bed to wait, Apollo ingots of the purest gold, Pluto a smaragd to be worn in state, Juno a gem worth more than can be told, Neptune two steeds above all mortal rate, Xanthus and Balias, whom you may behold Still draw my coach, a rich knife rarely wrought, ’Mongst other presents you, God Vulcan, brought. |
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But what of these digressions? If my hap
Hath ever been to do you any grace,
When falling from high heaven, in my soft lap
I gently catched you. See, behold the place
On which your head fell, which to fold and wrap
In smoothest silks, my robes I did unlace.
For this and much more kindness by me done,
Requite all, with an armour for my son.”
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“Enough!” quoth Vulcan. “Fetch, Pyragmon, straight A parcel of the best and purest steel, And you, Berountes, let it find the weight Of your huge hammers, and their ponders feel.” The Cyclops fetched a plate six cubes in height, So massy that the burden made him reel. Sceropes, stained with smoke, the bellows blew, And all at once, themselves to work withdrew. |
Pyragmon, Berountes and Sceropes, the three Cyclops that attend on Vulcan
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They forged a helmet with rich flowers enchased So curiously that art it much exceeded; Borders of sundry works about were placed; The precise sight of the best eye they needed, That could discern the closures, they were graced With god-like skill. From godhood it proceeded: For beauty, it was glorious to the sight, For proof, no steel could on this helmet bite. |
Achilles’ armour
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The gorget, vantbrace, back-piece, breast and all
Came from the selfsame substance and like skill.
The cushes, that beneath the girdle fall,
Impenetrable were and steel-proof still;
And though the thickness did appear but small,
The plates they with such strength of metal fill,
It hath the force and puissance to withstand
The sharpest spears hurled from the strongest hand.
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Above them all, his shield the rest surpassed, Massy, and only for his arm to wear, For whom ’twas made. Upon the same was razed The great world tripartite: heaven and each sphere, Thence all the high circumference was placed, Stars, moon and sun, the signs that rule the year, The ram, the bull, and the twin brothers’ sign, The crab, the lion, and the maid divine, |
Achilles’ shield
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How to cite
Patricia Dorval, ed., 2016. Troia Britanica Canto XIII (1609). In A Dictionary of Shakespeare's Classical Mythology: A Textual Companion, ed. Yves Peyré (2009-).