ALL night the Chiefs before their vessels lay, | |
| And lost in sleep the labours of the day: | |
| All but the King; with various thoughts oppress’d, | |
| His country’s cares lay rolling in his breast. | |
| As when by lightnings Jove’s ethereal Power | 5 |
| Foretells the rattling hail, or weighty shower, | |
| Or sends soft snows to whiten all the shore, | |
| Or bids the brazen throat of war to roar; | |
| By fits one flash succeeds as one expires, | |
| And Heav’n flames thick with momentary fires: | 10 |
| So bursting frequent from Atrides’ breast, | |
| Sighs foll’wing sighs his inward fears confess’d. | |
| Now, o’er the fields, dejected, he surveys | |
| From thousand Trojan fires the mounting blaze; | |
| Hears in the passing wind their music blow, | 15 |
| And marks distinct the voices of the foe. | |
| Now, looking backwards to the fleet and coast, | |
| Anxious he sorrows for th’ endanger’d host. | |
| He rends his hairs, in sacrifice to Jove, | |
| And sues to him that ever lives above: | 20 |
| Inly he groans; while glory and despair | |
| Divide his heart, and wage a doubtful war. | |
| A thousand cares his lab’ring breast revolves; | |
| To seek sage Nestor now the Chief resolves, | |
| With him, in wholesome counsels, to debate | 25 |
| What yet remains to save th’ afflicted state. | |
| He rose, and first he cast his mantle round, | |
| Next on his feet the shining sandals bound; | |
| A lion’s yellow spoils his back conceal’d; | |
| His warlike hand a pointed jav’lin held. | 30 |
| Meanwhile his brother, press’d with equal woes, | |
| Alike denied the gift of soft repose, | |
| Laments for Greece; that in his cause before | |
| So much had suffer’d, and must suffer more. | |
| A leopard’s spotted hide his shoulders spread; | 35 |
| A brazen helmet glitter’d on his head: | |
| Thus (with a jav’lin in his hand) he went | |
| To wake Atrides in the royal tent. | |
| Already waked, Atrides he descried | |
| His armour buckling at his vessel’s side. | 40 |
| Joyful they met; the Spartan thus begun: | |
| ‘Why puts my brother this bright armour on? | |
| Sends he some spy, amidst these silent hours, | |
| To try yon camp, and watch the Trojan powers? | |
| But say, what hero shall sustain the task? | 45 |
| Such bold exploits uncommon courage ask, | |
| Guideless, alone, thro’ night’s dark shade to go, | |
| And ’midst a hostile camp explore the foe.’ | |
| To whom the King: ‘In such distress we stand, | |
| No vulgar counsels our affairs demand; | 50 |
| Greece to preserve is now no easy part, | |
| But asks high wisdom, deep design, and art. | |
| For Jove averse our humble prayer denies, | |
| And bows his head to Hector’s sacrifice. | |
| What eye has witness’d, or what ear believ’d, | 55 |
| In one great day, by one great arm achiev’d, | |
| Such wondrous deeds as Hector’s hand has done, | |
| And we beheld, the last revolving sun? | |
| What honours the belov’d of Jove adorn! | |
| Sprung from no God, and of no Goddess born, | 60 |
| Yet such his acts, as Greeks unborn shall tell, | |
| And curse the battle where their fathers fell. | |
| Now speed thy hasty course along the fleet, | |
| There call great Ajax, and the Prince of Crete; | |
| Ourself to hoary Nestor will repair; | 65 |
| To keep the guards on duty, be his care: | |
| (For Nestor’s influence best that quarter guides, | |
| Whose son, with Merion, o’er the watch presides.’) | |
| To whom the Spartan: ‘These thy orders borne, | |
| Say, shall I stay, or with despatch return?’ | 70 |
| ‘There shalt thou stay (the King of Men replied), | |
| Else may we miss to meet without a guide, | |
| The paths so many, and the camp so wide. | |
| Still, with your voice, the slothful soldiers raise, | |
| Urge by their fathers’ fame, their future praise. | 75 |
| Forget we now our state and lofty birth; | |
| Not titles here, but works, must prove our worth. | |
| To labour is the lot of man below; | |
| And when Jove gave us life, he gave us woe.’ | |
| This said, each parted to his sev’ral cares; | 80 |
| The King to Nestor’s sable ship repairs; | |
| The sage protector of the Greeks he found | |
| Stretch’d in his bed, with all his arms around; | |
| The various-colour’d scarf, the shield he rears, | |
| The shining helmet, and the pointed spears; | 85 |
| The dreadful weapons of the warrior’s rage, | |
| That, old in arms, disdain’d the peace of age. | |
| Then, leaning on his hand his watchful head, | |
| The hoary Monarch rais’d his eyes, and said: | |
| ‘What art thou, speak, that on designs unknown, | 90 |
| While others sleep, thus range the camp alone? | |
| Seek’st thou some friend, or nightly sentinel? | |
| Stand off, approach not, but thy purpose tell.’ | |
| ‘O son of Neleus! (thus the King rejoin’d) | |
| Pride of the Greeks, and glory of thy kind! | 95 |
| Lo here the wretched Agamemnon stands, | |
| Th’ unhappy Gen’ral of the Grecian bands; | |
| Whom Jove decrees with daily cares to bend, | |
| And woes, that only with his life shall end! | |
| Scarce can my knees these trembling limbs sustain, | 100 |
| And scarce my heart support its load of pain. | |
| No taste of sleep these heavy eyes have known; | |
| Confused, and sad, I wander thus alone, | |
| With fears distracted, with no fix’d design; | |
| And all my people’s miseries are mine. | 105 |
| If aught of use thy walking thought suggest, | |
| (Since cares, like mine, deprive thy soul of rest, | |
| Impart thy counsel, and assist thy friend: | |
| Now let us jointly to the trench descend, | |
| At every gate the fainting guard excite, | 110 |
| Tired with the toils of day, and watch of night: | |
| Else may the sudden foe our works invade, | |
| So near, and favour’d by the gloomy shade.’ | |
| To him thus Nestor: ‘Trust the Powers above, | |
| Nor think proud Hector’s hopes confirm’d by Jove: | 115 |
| How ill agree the views of vain mankind, | |
| And the wise counsels of th’ eternal mind! | |
| Audacious Hector, if the Gods, ordain | |
| That great Achilles rise and rage again, | |
| What toils attend thee, and what woes remain! | 120 |
| Lo! faithful Nestor thy command obeys; | |
| The care is next our other Chiefs to raise: | |
| Ulysses, Diomed, we chiefly need; | |
| Meges for strength, Oïleus famed for speed, | |
| Some other be despatch’d of nimbler feet, | 125 |
| To those tall ships, remotest of the fleet, | |
| Where lie great Ajax, and the King of Crete. | |
| To rouse the Spartan I myself decree; | |
| Dear as he is to us, and dear to thee, | |
| Yet must I tax his sloth, that claims no share, | 130 |
| With his great brother, in this martial care: | |
| Him it behoved to ev’ry Chief to sue, | |
| Preventing ev’ry part perform’d by you; | |
| For strong necessity our toils demands, | |
| Claims all our hearts, and urges all our hands.’ | 135 |
| To whom the King: ‘With rev’rence we allow | |
| Thy just rebukes, yet learn to spare them now. | |
| My gen’rous brother is of gentle kind, | |
| He seems remiss, but bears a valiant mind; | |
| Thro’ too much def’rence to our sov’reign sway, | 140 |
| Content to follow when we lead the way. | |
| But now, our ills industrious to prevent, | |
| Long ere the rest he rose, and sought my tent. | |
| The Chiefs you named, already, at his call, | |
| Prepare to meet us at the navy-wall; | 145 |
| Assembling there, between the trench and gates, | |
| Near the night-guards our chosen council waits.’ | |
| ‘Then none (said Nestor) shall his rule withstand, | |
| For great examples justify command.’ | |
| With that, the venerable warrior rose; | 150 |
| The shining greaves his manly legs enclose; | |
| His purple mantle golden buckles join’d, | |
| Warm with the softest wool, and doubly lin’d. | |
| Then, rushing from his tent, he snatch’d in haste | |
| His steely lance, that lighten’d as he pass’d. | 155 |
| The camp he travers’d thro’ the sleeping crowd, | |
| Stopp’d at Ulysses’ tent, and call’d aloud. | |
| Ulysses, sudden as the voice was sent, | |
| Awakes, starts up, and issues from his tent: | |
| ‘What new distress, what sudden cause of fright, | 160 |
| Thus leads you wand’ring in the silent night?’ | |
| ‘O prudent Chief! (the Pylian Chief replied) | |
| Wise as thou art, be now thy wisdom tried: | |
| Whatever means of safety can be sought, | |
| Whatever counsels can inspire our thought, | 165 |
| Whatever methods, or to fly or fight; | |
| All, all depend on this important night!’ | |
| He heard, return’d, and took his painted shield: | |
| Then join’d the Chiefs, and follow’d thro’ the field. | |
| Without his tent, bold Diomed they found, | 170 |
| All sheath’d in arms, his brave companions round: | |
| Each sunk in sleep, extended on the field, | |
| His head reclining on his bossy shield: | |
| A wood of spears stood by, that, fix’d upright, | |
| Shot from their flashing points a quiv’ring light. | 175 |
| A bull’s black hide composed the hero’s bed; | |
| A splendid carpet roll’d beneath his head. | |
| Then, with his foot, old Nestor gently shakes | |
| The slumb’ring Chief, and in these words awakes: | |
| ‘Rise, son of Tydeus! to the brave and strong | 180 |
| Rest seems inglorious, and the night too long. | |
| But sleep’st thou now? when from yon hill the foe | |
| Hangs o’er the fleet, and shades our walls below?’ | |
| At this, soft slumber from his eyelids fled; | |
| The warrior saw the hoary Chief, and said: | 185 |
| ‘Wondrous old man! whose soul no respite knows, | |
| Tho’ years and honours bid thee seek repose. | |
| Let younger Greeks our sleeping warriors wake; | |
| Ill fits thy age these toils to undertake.’ | |
| ‘My friend’ (he answer’d), ‘gen’rous is thy care, | 190 |
| These toils, my subjects and my sons might bear, | |
| Their loyal thoughts and pious loves conspire | |
| To ease a Sov’reign, and relieve a Sire. | |
| But now the last despair surrounds our host; | |
| No hour must pass, no moment must be lost; | 195 |
| Each single Greek, in this conclusive strife, | |
| Stands on the sharpest edge of death or life: | |
| Yet if my years thy kind regard engage, | |
| Employ thy youth as I employ my age; | |
| Succeed to these my cares, and rouse the rest; | 200 |
| He serves me most, who serves his country best.’ | |
| This said, the Hero o’er his shoulder flung | |
| A lion’s spoils, that to his ankles hung; | |
| Then seiz’d his pond’rous lance, and strode along. | |
| Meges the bold, with Ajax famed for speed, | 205 |
| The warrior rous’d, and to th’ entrenchments led. | |
| And now the Chiefs approach the nightly guard; | |
| A wakeful squadron, each in arms prepared: | |
| Th’ unwearied watch their list’ning leaders keep, | |
| And, couching close, repel invading sleep. | 210 |
| So faithful dogs their fleecy charge maintain, | |
| With toil protected from the prowling train; | |
| When the gaunt lioness, with hunger bold, | |
| Springs from the mountains tow’rd the guarded fold: | |
| Thro’ breaking woods her rustling course they hear; | 215 |
| Loud, and more loud, the clamours strike their ear | |
| Of hounds, and men; they start, they gaze around; | |
| Watch ev’ry side, and turn to ev’ry sound. | |
| Thus watch’d the Grecians, cautious of surprise, | |
| Each voice, each motion, drew their ears and eyes; | 220 |
| Each step of passing feet increas’d th’ affright; | |
| And hostile Troy was ever full in sight. | |
| Nestor with joy the wakeful band survey’d, | |
| And thus accosted thro’ the gloomy shade: | |
| ‘’T is well, my sons! your nightly cares employ, | 225 |
| Else must our host become the scorn of Troy. | |
| ‘Watch thus, and Greece shall live.’ The hero said; | |
| Then o’er the trench the foll’wing Chieftains led. | |
| His son, and godlike Merion, march’d behing; | |
| (For these the Princes to their council join’d); | 230 |
| The trenches pass’d, th’ assembled Kings around | |
| In silent state the consistory crown’d. | |
| A place there was yet undefil’d with gore, | |
| The spot where Hector stopp’d his rage before, | |
| When night, descending, from his vengeful hand | 235 |
| Repriev’d the relics of the Grecian band. | |
| (The plain beside with mangled corps was spread, | |
| And all his progress mark’d by heaps of dead.) | |
| There sat the mournful kings: when Neleus’ son, | |
| The Council opening, in these words begun: | 240 |
| ‘Is there’(said he) ‘a Chief so greatly brave, | |
| His life to hazard, and his country save? | |
| Lives there a man, who singly dares to go | |
| To yonder camp, or seize some straggling foe? | |
| Or, favour’d by night, approach so near, | 245 |
| Their speech, their counsels, and designs to hear? | |
| If to besiege our navies they prepare, | |
| Or Troy once more must be the seat of war? | |
| This could he learn and to our peers recite, | |
| And pass unharm’d the dangers of the night: | 250 |
| What fame were his thro’ all succeeding days, | |
| While Phœbus shines, or men have tongues to praise! | |
| What gifts his grateful country would bestow! | |
| What must not Greece to her deliv’rer owe! | |
| A sable ewe each leader should provide, | 255 |
| With each a sable lambkin by her side; | |
| At ev’ry rite his share should be increas’d, | |
| And his the foremost honours of the feast.’ | |
| Fear held them mute: alone, untaught to fear, | |
| Tydides spoke: ‘The man you seek is here. | 260 |
| Thro’ yon black camps to bend my dangerous way, | |
| Some God within commands, and I obey. | |
| But let some other chosen warrior join, | |
| To raise my hopes and second my design. | |
| By mutual confidence and mutual aid, | 265 |
| Great deeds are done, and great discov’ries made; | |
| The wise new prudence from the wise acquire, | |
| And one brave hero fans another’s fire.’ | |
| Contending leaders at the word arose; | |
| Each gen’rous breast with emulation glows: | 270 |
| So brave a task each Ajax strove to share, | |
| Bold Merion strove, and Nestor’s valiant heir; | |
| The Spartan wish’d the second place to gain, | |
| And great Ulysses wish’d, nor wish’d in vain. | |
| Then this the King of Men the contest ends: | 275 |
| ‘Thou first of warriors, and thou best of friends, | |
| Undaunted Diomed! what Chief to join | |
| In this great enterprise, is only thine. | |
| Just be thy choice, without affection made, | |
| To birth or office no respect be paid; | 280 |
| Let worth determine here.’ The Monarch spake, | |
| And inly trembled for his brother’s sake. | |
| Then thus (the godlike Diomed rejoin’d): | |
| ‘My choice declares the impulse of my mind. | |
| How can I doubt, while great Ulysses stands | 285 |
| To lend his counsels, and assist our hands? | |
| A Chief, whose safety is Minerva’s care: | |
| So famed, so dreadful in the works of war: | |
| Bless’d in his conduct, I no aid require, | |
| Wisdom like his might pass thro’ flames of fire.’ | 290 |
| ‘It fits thee not, before these Chiefs of fame’ | |
| (Replied the Sage), ‘to praise me, or to blame: | |
| Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe, | |
| Are lost on hearers that our merits know. | |
| But let us haste. Night rolls the hours away, | 295 |
| The redd’ning Orient shows the coming day, | |
| The stars shine fainter on th’ ethereal plains, | |
| And of Night’s empire but a third remains.’ | |
| Thus having spoke, with gen’rous ardour press’d, | |
| In arms terrific their huge limbs they dress’d. | 300 |
| A two-edged falchion Thrasymed the brave, | |
| And ample buckler, to Tydides gave: | |
| Then in a leathern helm he cased his head, | |
| Short of its crest, and with no plume o’erspread: | |
| (Such as by youths, unused to arms, are worn; | 305 |
| No spoils enrich it, and no studs adorn.) | |
| Next him Ulysses took a shining sword, | |
| A bow and quiver, with bright arrows stor’d: | |
| A well-prov’d casque, with leather braces bound | |
| (Thy gift, Meriones),his temple crown’d: | 310 |
| Soft wool within; without, in order spread, | |
| A boar’s white teeth grinn’d horrid o’er his head. | |
| This from Amyntor, rich Ormenus’son, | |
| Autolycus by fraudful rapine won, | |
| And gave Amphidamas; from him the prize | 315 |
| Molus receiv’d, the pledge of social ties; | |
| The helmet next by Merion was possess’d, | |
| And now Ulysses’ thoughtful temples press’d. | |
| Thus sheath’d in arms, the council they forsake, | |
| And dark thro’ paths oblique their progress take. | 320 |
| Just then, in sign she favour’d their intent, | |
| A long-wing’d heron great Minerva sent: | |
| This, tho’ surrounding shades obscured their view, | |
| By the shrill clang and whistling wings they knew. | |
| As from the right she soar’d, Ulysses pray’d, | 325 |
| Hail’d the glad omen, and address’d the Maid: | |
| ‘O Daughter of that God, whose arm can wield | |
| Th’ avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield! | |
| O thou! for ever present in my way, | |
| Who all my motions, all my toils, survey! | 330 |
| Safe may we pass beneath the gloomy shade, | |
| Safe by thy succour to our ships convey’d; | |
| And let some deed this signal night adorn, | |
| To claim the tears of Trojans yet unborn.’ | |
| Then godlike Diomed preferr’d his prayer: | 335 |
| ‘Daughter of Jove, unconquer’d Pallas! hear, | |
| Great Queen of Arms, whose favour Tydeus won, | |
| As thou defend’st the sire, defend the son. | |
| When on Æsopus’ banks the banded powers | |
| Of Greece he left, and sought the Theban towers, | 340 |
| Peace was his charge; receiv’d with peaceful show, | |
| He went a legate, but return’d a foe: | |
| Then help’d by thee, and cover’d by thy shield, | |
| He fought with numbers, and made numbers yield. | |
| So now be present, O celestial Maid! | 345 |
| So still continue to the race thine aid! | |
| A youthful steer shall fall beneath the stroke, | |
| Untamed, unconscious of the galling yoke, | |
| With ample forehead, and with spreading horns, | |
| Whose taper tops refulgent gold adorns.’ | 350 |
| The heroes pray’d, and Pallas, from the skies, | |
| Accords their vow, succeeds their enterprise. | |
| Now like two lions panting for the prey, | |
| With deathful thoughts they trace the dreary way, | |
| Thro’ the black horrors of th’ ensanguin’d plain, | 355 |
| Thro’ dust, thro’ blood, o’er arms, and hills of slain. | |
| Nor less bold Hector, and the sons of Troy, | |
| On high designs the wakeful hours employ; | |
| Th’ assembled peers their lofty Chief enclosed; | |
| Who thus the counsels of his breast proposed: | 360 |
| ‘What glorious man, for high attempts prepared, | |
| Dares greatly venture for a rich reward? | |
| Of yonder fleet a bold discov’ry make, | |
| What watch they keep, and what resolves they take? | |
| If now, subdued, they meditate their flight, | 365 |
| And, spent with toil, neglect the watch of night? | |
| His be the chariot that shall please him most, | |
| Of all the plunder of the vanquish’d host; | |
| His the fair steeds that all the rest excel, | |
| And his the glory to have serv’d so well.’ | 370 |
| A youth there was among the tribes of Troy, | |
| Dolon his name, Eumedes’ only boy, | |
| (Five girls beside the rev’rend Herald told): | |
| Rich was the son in brass, and rich in gold: | |
| Not bless’d by Nature with the charms of face, | 375 |
| But swift of foot, and matchless in the race. | |
| ‘Hector!’ (he said) ‘my courage bids me meet | |
| This high achievement, and explore the fleet: | |
| But first exalt thy sceptre to the skies, | |
| And swear to grant me the demanded prize; | 380 |
| Th’ immortal coursers, and the glitt’ring car | |
| That bear Pelides thro’ the ranks of war. | |
| Encouraged thus, no idle scout I go, | |
| Fulfil thy wish, their whole intention know, | |
| Ev’n to the royal tent pursue my way, | 385 |
| And all their councils, all their aims, betray.’ | |
| The Chief then heav’d the golden sceptre high, | |
| Attesting thus the Monarch of the Sky: | |
| ‘Be witness, thou!’ immortal Lord of All! | |
| Whose thunder shakes the dark aërial hall: | 390 |
| By none but Dolon shall this prize be borne, | |
| And him alone th’ immortal steeds adorn.’ | |
| Thus Hector swore: the Gods were call’d in vain; | |
| But the rash youth prepares to scour the plain: | |
| Across his back the bended bow he flung, | 395 |
| A wolf’s grey hide around his shoulders hung, | |
| A ferret’s downy fur his helmet lined, | |
| And in his hand a pointed jav’lin shined. | |
| Then (never to return) he sought the shore, | |
| And trod the path his feet must tread no more. | 400 |
| Scarce had he pass’d the steeds and Trojan throng, | |
| (Still bending forward as he cours’d along), | |
| When, on the hollow way, th’ approaching tread | |
| Ulysses mark’d, and thus to Diomed: | |
| ‘O friend! I hear some step of hostile feet, | 405 |
| Moving this way, or hast’ning to the fleet; | |
| Some spy, perhaps, to lurk beside the main; | |
| Or nightly pillager that strips the slain. | |
| Yet let him pass, and win a little space; | |
| Then rush behind him, and prevent his pace. | 410 |
| But if, too swift of foot, he flies before, | |
| Confine his course along the fleet and shore, | |
| Betwixt the camp and him our spears employ, | |
| And intercept his hoped return to Troy.’ | |
| With that they stepp’d aside, and stoop’d their head | 415 |
| (As Dolon pass’d), behind a heap of dead: | |
| Along the path the spy unwary flew: | |
| Soft, at just distance, both the Chiefs pursue. | |
| So distant they, and such the space between, | |
| As when two teams of mules divide the green | 420 |
| (To whom the hind like shares of land allows), | |
| When now new furrows part th’ approaching ploughs. | |
| Now Dolon list’ning heard them as they pass’d; | |
| Hector (he thought) had sent, and check’d his haste: | |
| Till scarce at distance of a jav’lin’s throw, | 425 |
| No voice succeeding, he perceiv’d the foe. | |
| As when two skilful hounds the lev’ret wind, | |
| Or chase thro’ woods obscure the trembling hind, | |
| Now lost, now seen, they intercept his way, | |
| And from the herd still turn the flying prey: | 430 |
| So fast, and with such fears, the Trojan flew; | |
| So close, so constant, the bold Greeks pursue. | |
| Now almost on the fleet the dastard falls, | |
| And mingles with the guards that watch the walls: | |
| When brave Tydides stopp’d: a gen’rous thought | 435 |
| (Inspired by Pallas) in his bosom wrought, | |
| Lest on the foe some forward Greek advance, | |
| And snatch the glory from his lifted lance. | |
| Then thus aloud: ‘Whoe’er thou art, remain; | |
| This jav’lin else shall fix thee to the plain.’ | 440 |
| He said, and high in air the weapon cast, | |
| Which wilful err’d, and o’er his shoulder pass’d: | |
| Then fix’d in earth. Against the trembling wood | |
| The wretch stood propp’d, and quiver’d as he stood; | |
| A sudden palsy seiz’d his turning head; | 445 |
| His loose teeth chatter’d, and his colour fled: | |
| The panting warriors seize him, as he stands, | |
| And, with unmanly tears, his life demands: | |
| ‘O spare my youth, and, for the breath I owe, | |
| Large gifts of price my father shall bestow: | 450 |
| Vast heaps of brass shall in your ships be told, | |
| And steel well-temper’d, and refulgent gold.’ | |
| To whom Ulysses made this wise reply: | |
| ‘Whoe’er thou art, be bold, nor fear to die. | |
| What moves thee, say, when sleep has closed the sight, | 455 |
| To roam the silent fields in dead of night? | |
| Camest thou the secrets of our camp to find, | |
| By Hector prompted, or thy daring mind? | |
| Or art some wretch by hopes of plunder led | |
| Thro’ heaps of carnage to despoil the dead?’ | 460 |
| Then thus pale Dolon with a fearful look | |
| (Still as he spoke his limbs with horror shook): | |
| ‘Hither I came, by Hector’s words deceiv’d: | |
| Much did he promise, rashly I believ’d: | |
| No less a bribe than great Achilles’ car, | 465 |
| And those swift steeds that sweep the ranks of war, | |
| Urged me, unwilling, this attempt to make; | |
| To learn what counsels, what resolves, you take: | |
| If now, subdued, you fix your hopes on flight, | |
| And, tired with toils, neglect the watch of night?’ | 470 |
| ‘Bold was thy aim, and glorious was the prize’ | |
| (Ulysses, with a scornful smile, replies): | |
| ‘Far other rulers those proud steeds demand, | |
| And scorn the guidance of a vulgar hand; | |
| Ev’n great Achilles scarce their rage can tame, | 475 |
| Achilles sprung from an immortal dame. | |
| But say, be faithful, and the truth recite: | |
| Where lies encamp’d the Trojan Chief to-night? | |
| Where stand his coursers? in what quarter sleep | |
| Their other princes? tell what watch they keep. | 480 |
| Say, since this conquest, what their counsels are; | |
| Or here to combat, from their city far, | |
| Or back to Ilion’s walls transfer the war?’ | |
| Ulysses thus, and thus Eumedes’ son: | |
| ‘What Dolon knows, his faithful tongue shall own. | 485 |
| Hector, the peers assembling in his tent, | |
| A council holds at Ilus’ monument. | |
| No certain guards the nightly watch partake: | |
| Where’er yon fires ascend, the Trojans wake: | |
| Anxious for Troy, the guard the natives keep: | 490 |
| Safe in their cares, th’ auxiliar forces sleep, | |
| Whose wives and infants, from the danger far, | |
| Discharge their souls of half the fears of war.’ | |
| ‘Then sleep these aids among the Trojan train,’ | |
| (Inquired the Chief), ‘or scatter’d o’er the plain?’ | 495 |
| To whom the spy: ‘Their powers they thus dispose; | |
| The Pæons, dreadful with their bended bows, | |
| The Carians, Caucons, the Pelasgian host, | |
| And Leleges, encamp along the coast. | |
| Not distant far, lie higher on the land | 500 |
| The Lycian, Mysian, and Mæonian band, | |
| And Phrygia’s horse, by Thymbra’s ancient wall; | |
| The Thracians utmost, and apart from all. | |
| These Troy but lately to her succour won, | |
| Led on by Rhesus, great Eioneus’ son: | 505 |
| I saw his coursers in proud triumph go, | |
| Swift as the wind, and white as winter snow: | |
| Rich silver plates his shining car infold; | |
| His solid arms, refulgent, flame with gold; | |
| No mortal shoulders suit the glorious load, | 510 |
| Celestial panoply, to grace a God! | |
| Let me, unhappy, to your fleet be borne, | |
| Or leave me here, a captive’s fate to mourn, | |
| In cruel chains; till your return reveal | |
| The truth or falsehood of the news I tell.’ | 515 |
| To this Tydides, with a gloomy frown: | |
| ‘Think not to live, tho’ all the truth be shewn; | |
| Shall we dismiss thee, in some future strife | |
| To risk more bravely thy now forfeit life? | |
| Or that again our camps thou may’st explore? | 520 |
| No—once a traitor, thou betray’st no more.’ | |
| Sternly he spoke, and, as the wretch prepared | |
| With humble blandishment to stroke his beard, | |
| Like lightning swift the wrathful falchion flew, | |
| Divides the neck, and cuts the nerves in two; | 525 |
| One instant snatch’d his trembling soul to Hell, | |
| The head, yet speaking, mutter’d as it fell. | |
| The furry helmet from his brow they tear, | |
| The wolf’s grey hide, th’ unbended bow and spear; | |
| These great Ulysses lifting to the skies, | 530 |
| To fav’ring Pallas dedicates the prize: | |
| ‘Great Queen of Arms! receive this hostile spoil, | |
| And let the Thracian steeds reward our toil: | |
| Thee first of all the heav’nly host we praise; | |
| O speed our labours, and direct our ways!’ | 535 |
| This said, the spoils, with dropping gore defaced, | |
| High on a spreading tamarisk he placed; | |
| Then heap’d with reeds and gather’d boughs the plain, | |
| To guide their footsteps to the place again. | |
| Thro’ the still night they cross the devious fields, | 540 |
| Slipp’ry with blood, o’er arms and heaps of shields. | |
| Arriving where the Thracian squadrons lay, | |
| And eased in sleep the labours of the day. | |
| Ranged in three lines they view the prostrate band: | |
| The horses yoked beside each warrior stand; | 545 |
| Their arms in order on the ground reclined, | |
| Thro’ the brown shade the fulgid weapons shined; | |
| Amidst, lay Rhesus, stretch’d in sleep profound, | |
| And the white steeds behind his chariot bound. | |
| The welcome sight Ulysses first descries, | 550 |
| And points to Diomed the tempting prize: | |
| ‘The man, the coursers, and the car behold! | |
| Described by Dolon, with the arms of gold. | |
| Now, brave Tydides! now thy courage try, | |
| Approach the chariot, and the steeds untie; | 555 |
| Or if thy soul aspire to fiercer deeds, | |
| Urge thou the slaughter, while I seize the steeds.’ | |
| Pallas (this said) her hero’s bosom warms, | |
| Breathed in his heart, and strung his nervous arms; | |
| Where’er he pass’d, a purple stream pursued; | 560 |
| His thirsty falchion, fat with hostile blood, | |
| Bathed all his footsteps, dyed the fields with gore, | |
| And a low groan remurmur’d thro’ the shore. | |
| So the grim lion, from his nightly den, | |
| O’erleaps the fences, and invades the pen; | 565 |
| On sheep or goats, resistless in his way, | |
| He falls, and foaming rends the guardless prey. | |
| Nor stopp’d the furry of his vengeful hand, | |
| Till twelve lay breathless of the Thracian band. | |
| Ulysses foll’wing as his partner slew, | 570 |
| Back by the foot each slaughter’d warrior drew; | |
| The milk-white coursers studious to convey | |
| Safe to the ships, he wisely clear’d the way; | |
| Lest the fierce steeds, not yet to battles bred, | |
| Should start and tremble at the heaps of dead. | 575 |
| Now twelve despatch’d, the Monarch last they found; | |
| Tydides’ falchion fix’d him to the ground. | |
| Just then a dreadful dream Minerva sent; | |
| A warlike form appear’d before his tent, | |
| Whose visionary steel his bosom tore: | 580 |
| So dream’d the Monarch, and awaked no more. | |
| Ulysses now the snowy steeds detains, | |
| And leads them fasten’d by the silver reins; | |
| These, with his bow unbent, he lash’d along | |
| (The scourge, forgot, on Rhesus’ chariot hung). | 585 |
| Then gave his friend the signal to retire; | |
| But him new dangers, new achievements, fire: | |
| Doubtful he stood, or with his reeking blade | |
| To send more heroes to th’ infernal shade, | |
| Drag off the car where Rhesus’ armour lay, | 590 |
| Or heave with manly force, and lift away. | |
| While unresolv’d the son of Tydeus stands, | |
| Pallas appears, and thus her Chief commands: | |
| ‘Enough, my son; from farther slaughter cease, | |
| Regard thy safety, and depart in peace; | 595 |
| Haste to the ships, the gotten spoils enjoy, | |
| Nor tempt too far the hostile Gods of Troy.’ | |
| The voice divine confess’d the Martial Maid; | |
| In haste he mounted, and her word obey’d; | |
| The coursers fly before Ulysses’ bow, | 600 |
| Swift as the wind, and white as winter snow. | |
| Not unobserv’d they pass’d: the God of Light | |
| Had watch’d his Troy, and mark’d Minerva’s flight, | |
| Saw Tydeus’ son with heav’nly succour bless’d, | |
| And vengeful anger fill’d his sacred breast. | 605 |
| Swift to the Trojan camp descends the power, | |
| And wakes Hippocoön in the morning hour | |
| (On Rhesus’ side accustom’d to attend, | |
| A faithful kinsman and instructive friend). | |
| He rose, and saw the field deform’d with blood, | 610 |
| An empty space where late the coursers stood, | |
| The yet warm Thracians panting on the coast; | |
| For each he wept, but for his Rhesus most. | |
| Now, while on Rhesus’ name he calls in vain, | |
| The gath’ring tumult spread o’er all the plain; | 615 |
| On heaps the Trojans rush, with wild affright, | |
| And wond’ring view the slaughter of the night. | |
| Meanwhile the Chiefs arriving at the shade | |
| Where late the spoils of Hector’s spy were laid, | |
| Ulysses stopp’d; to him Tydides bore | 620 |
| The trophy, dropping yet with Dolon’s gore: | |
| Then mounts again; again their nimble feet | |
| The coursers ply, and thunder towards the fleet. | |
| Old Nestor first perceiv’d th’ approaching sound, | |
| Bespeaking thus the Grecian peers around: | 625 |
| ‘Methinks the noise of trampling steeds I hear, | |
| Thick’ning this way, and gath’ring on my ear; | |
| Perhaps some horses of the Trojan breed | |
| (So may, ye Gods! my pious hopes succeed) | |
| The great Tydides and Ulysses bear, | 630 |
| Return’d triumphant with this prize of war. | |
| Yet much I fear (ah may that fear be vain)! | |
| The Chiefs outnumber’d by the Trojan train; | |
| Perhaps, ev’n now pursued, they seek the shore; | |
| Or, oh! perhaps those heroes are no more.’ | 635 |
| Scarce had he spoke, when lo! the Chiefs appear, | |
| And spring to earth; the Greeks dismiss their fear: | |
| With words of friendship and extended hands | |
| They greet the Kings; and Nestor first demands: | |
| ‘Say thou, whose praises all our host proclaim, | 640 |
| Thou living glory of the Grecian name! | |
| Say, whence these coursers? by what chance bestow’d, | |
| The spoil of foes, or present of a God? | |
| Not those fair steeds so radiant and so gay, | |
| That draw the burning chariot of the day. | 645 |
| Old as I am, to age I scorn to yield, | |
| And daily mingle in the martial field; | |
| But sure till now no coursers struck my sight | |
| Like these, conspicuous thro’ the ranks of fight. | |
| Some God, I deem, conferr’d the glorious prize, | 650 |
| Bless’d as ye are, and fav’rites of the skies: | |
| The care of him who bids the thunder roar, | |
| And her, whose fury bathes the world with gore!’ | |
| ‘Father! not so (sage Ithacus rejoin’d), | |
| The gifts of Heav’n are of a nobler kind. | 655 |
| Of Thracian lineage are the steeds ye view, | |
| Whose hostile King the brave Tydides slew; | |
| Sleeping he died, with all his guards around, | |
| And twelve beside lay gasping on the ground. | |
| These other spoils from conquer’d Dolon came, | 660 |
| A wretch, whose swiftness was his only fame; | |
| By Hector sent our forces to explore, | |
| He now lies headless on the sandy shore.’ | |
| Then o’er the trench the bounding coursers flew; | |
| The joyful Greeks with loud acclaim pursue. | 665 |
| Straight to Tydides’ high pavilion borne, | |
| The matchless steeds his ample stalls adorn: | |
| The neighing coursers their new fellows greet, | |
| And the full racks are heap’d with gen’rous wheat. | |
| But Dolon’s armour to his ships convey’d, | 670 |
| High on the painted stern Ulysses laid, | |
| A trophy destin’d to the blue-eyed maid. | |
| Now from nocturnal sweat, and sanguine stain, | |
| They cleanse their bodies in the neighb’ring main: | |
| Then in the polish’d bath, refresh’d from toil, | 675 |
| Their joints they supple with dissolving with oil, | |
| In due repast indulge the genial hour, | |
| And first to Pallas the libations pour: | |
| They sit rejoicing in her aid divine, | |
| And the crown’d goblet foams with floods of wine. | 680 |
| |
