NOW in swift flight they pass the trench profound, | |
| And many a Chief lay gasping on the ground; | |
| Then stopp’d and panted, where the chariots lie; | |
| Fear on their cheek, and horror in their eye. | |
| Meanwhile, awaken’d from his dream of love, | 5 |
| On Ida’s summit sat imperial Jove; | |
| Round the wide fields he cast a careful view, | |
| There saw the Trojans fly, the Greeks pursue; | |
| These proud in arms, those scatter’d o’er the plain; | |
| And, midst the war, the Monarch of the Main. | 10 |
| Not far, great Hector on the dust he spies | |
| (His sad associates round with weeping eyes), | |
| Ejecting blood, and panting yet for breath, | |
| His senses wand’ring to the verge of death. | |
| The God beheld him with a pitying look, | 15 |
| And thus, incens’d, to fraudful Juno spoke: | |
| ‘O thou, still adverse to th’ eternal will, | |
| For ever studious in promoting ill! | |
| Thy arts have made the godlike Hector yield, | |
| And driv’n his conquering squadrons from the field. | 20 |
| Canst thou, unhappy in thy wiles! withstand | |
| Our power immense, and brave th’ almighty hand? | |
| Hast thou forgot, when, bound and fix’d on high, | |
| From the vast concave of the spangled sky, | |
| I hung thee trembling in a golden chain; | 25 |
| And all the raging Gods opposed in vain? | |
| Headlong I hurl’d them from th’ Olympian hall, | |
| Stunn’d in the whirl, and breathless with the fall. | |
| For godlike Hercules these deeds were done, | |
| Nor seem’d the vengeance worthy such a son; | 30 |
| When, by thy wiles induced, fierce Boreas toss’d | |
| The shipwreck’d hero on the Coan coast: | |
| Him thro’ a thousand forms of death I bore, | |
| And sent to Argos, and his native shore. | |
| Hear this, remember, and our fury dread, | 35 |
| Nor pull th’ unwilling vengeance on thy head; | |
| Lest arts and blandishments successless prove, | |
| Thy soft deceits, and well-dissembled love.’ | |
| The Thund’rer spoke: imperial Juno mourn’d, | |
| And, trembling, these submissive words return’d: | 40 |
| ‘By ev’ry oath that powers immortal ties, | |
| The foodful earth, and all infolding skies, | |
| By thy black waves, tremendous Styx! that flow | |
| Thro’ the drear realms of gliding ghosts below: | |
| By the dread honours of thy sacred head, | 45 |
| And that unbroken vow, our virgin bed! | |
| Not by my arts the ruler of the main | |
| Steeps Troy in blood, and ranges round the plain: | |
| By his own ardour, his own pity, sway’d | |
| To help his Greeks; he fought, and disobey’d: | 50 |
| Else had thy Juno better counsels giv’n, | |
| And taught submission to the Sire of Heav’n.’ | |
| ‘Thinkst thou with me? fair Empress of the Skies!’ | |
| Th’ immortal Father with a smile replies: | |
| ‘Then soon the haughty Sea-God shall obey, | 55 |
| Nor dare to act, but when we point the way. | |
| If truth inspires thy tongue, proclaim our will | |
| To yon bright Synod on th’ Olympian Hill; | |
| Our high decree let various Iris know, | |
| And call the God that bears the silver bow. | 60 |
| Let her descend, and from th’ embattled plain | |
| Command the Sea-God to his wat’ry reign: | |
| While Phœbus hastes great Hector to prepare | |
| To rise afresh, and once more wake the war; | |
| His lab’ring bosom re-inspires with breath, | 65 |
| And calls his senses from the verge of death. | |
| Greece, chased by Troy ev’n to Achilles’ fleet, | |
| Shall fall by thousands at the hero’s feet. | |
| He, not untouch’d with pity, to the plain | |
| Shall send Patroclus, but shall send in vain. | 70 |
| What youths he slaughters under Ilion’s walls! | |
| Ev’n my lov’d son, divine Sarpedon, falls! | |
| Vanquish’d at last by Hector’s lance he lies, | |
| Then, not till then, shall great Achilles rise: | |
| And lo! that instant, godlike Hector dies. | 75 |
| From that great hour the war’s whole fortune turns, | |
| Pallas assists, and lofty Ilion burns. | |
| Not till that day shall Jove relax his rage, | |
| Nor one of all the heav’nly host engage | |
| In aid of Greece. The promise of a God | 80 |
| I gave, and seal’d it with th’ almighty nod, | |
| Achilles’ glory to the stars to raise; | |
| Such was our word, and Fate the word obeys.’ | |
| The trembling Queen (th’ almighty order given) | |
| Swift from th’ Idæan summit shot to Heav’n. | 85 |
| As some wayfaring man, who wanders o’er, | |
| In thought, a length of lands he trod before, | |
| Sends forth his active mind from place to place, | |
| Joins hill to dale, and measures space with space: | |
| So swift flew Juno to the blest abodes, | 90 |
| If thought of man can match the speed of Gods. | |
| There sat the Powers in awful Synod placed: | |
| They bow’d, and made obeisance as she pass’d, | |
| Thro’ all the brazen dome: with goblets crown’d | |
| They hail her queen; the nectar streams around. | 95 |
| Fair Themis first presents the golden bowl, | |
| And anxious asks what cares disturb her soul? | |
| To whom the white-arm’d Goddess thus replies: | |
| ‘Enough thou know’st the Tyrant of the Skies; | |
| Severely bent his purpose to fulfil, | 100 |
| Unmov’d his mind, and unrestrain’d his will. | |
| Go thou, the feasts of Heav’n attend thy call; | |
| Bid the crown’d nectar circle round the hall; | |
| But Jove shall thunder thro’ th’ ethereal dome | |
| Such stern decrees, such threaten’d woes to come, | 105 |
| As soon shall freeze mankind with dire surprise, | |
| And damp th’ eternal banquets of the skies.’ | |
| The Goddess said, and sullen took her place: | |
| Blank horror sadden’d each celestial face. | |
| To see the gath’ring grudge in every breast, | 110 |
| Smiles on her lips a spleenful joy express’d. | |
| While on her wrinkled front, and eyebrow bent, | |
| Sat steadfast care, and low’ring discontent. | |
| Thus she proceeds: ‘Attend, ye Powers above! | |
| But know, ’t is madness to contest with Jove: | 115 |
| Supreme he sits; and sees, in pride of sway, | |
| Your vassal Godheads grudgingly obey; | |
| Fierce in the majesty of power controls, | |
| Shakes all the thrones of Heav’n, and bends the poles. | |
| Submiss, immortals! all he wills, obey; | 120 |
| And thou, great Mars, begin and show the way. | |
| Behold Ascalaphus! behold him die, | |
| But dare not murmur, dare not vent a sigh; | |
| Thy own lov’d boasted offspring lies o’er-thrown, | |
| If that lov’d boasted offspring be thy own.’ | 125 |
| Stern Mars, with anguish for his slaughter’d son, | |
| Smote his rebelling breast, and fierce begun: | |
| ‘Thus then, Immortals! thus shall Mars obey? | |
| Forgive me, Gods, and yield my vengeance way: | |
| Descending first to yon forbidden plain, | 130 |
| The God of Battles dares avenge the slain; | |
| Dares, tho’ the thunder bursting o’er my head | |
| Should hurl me blazing on those heaps of dead.’ | |
| With that, he gives command to Fear and Flight | |
| To join his rapid coursers for the fight: | 135 |
| Then grim in arms, with hasty vengeance flies; | |
| Arms, that reflect a radiance thro’ the skies. | |
| And now had Jove, by bold rebellion driv’n, | |
| Discharged his wrath on half the host of Heav’n; | |
| But Pallas springing thro’ the bright abode, | 140 |
| Starts from her azure throne to calm the God. | |
| Struck for th’ immortal race with timely fear, | |
| From frantic Mars she snatch’d the shield and spear; | |
| Then the huge helmet lifting from his head, | |
| Thus to th’ impetuous homicide she said: | 145 |
| ‘By what wild passion, furious! art thou toss’d? | |
| Strivest thou with Jove? thou art already lost. | |
| Shall not the Thund’rer’s dread command restrain, | |
| And was imperial Juno heard in vain? | |
| Back to the skies would’st thou with shame be driv’n, | 150 |
| And in thy guilt involve the host of Heav’n? | |
| Ilion and Greece no more shall Jove engage; | |
| The skies would yield an ampler scene of rage, | |
| Guilty and guiltless find an equal fate, | |
| And one vast ruin whelm th’ Olympian state. | 155 |
| Cease then thy offspring’s death unjust to call; | |
| Heroes as great have died, and yet shall fall. | |
| Why should Heav’n’s law with foolish man comply, | |
| Exempted from the race ordain’d to die?’ | |
| This menace fix’d the warrior to his throne; | 160 |
| Sullen he sat, and curb’d the rising groan. | |
| Then Juno call’d (Jove’s orders to obey) | |
| The winged Iris, and the God of Day. | |
| ‘Go wait the Thund’rer’s will’ (Saturnia cried), | |
| ‘On yon tall summit of the fountful Ide: | 165 |
| There in the Father’s awful presence stand, | |
| Receive and execute his dread command.’ | |
| She said, and sat. The God that gilds the day, | |
| And various Iris, wing their airy way. | |
| Swift as the wind, to Ida’s hills they came | 170 |
| (Fair nurse of fountains, and of savage game); | |
| There sat th’ Eternal; he whose nod controls | |
| The trembling world, and shakes the steady poles. | |
| Veil’d in a mist of fragrance him they found, | |
| With clouds of gold and purple circled round. | 175 |
| Well-pleas’d the Thund’rer saw their earnest care, | |
| And prompt obedience to the Queen of Air; | |
| Then (while a smile serenes his awful brow) | |
| Commands the Goddess of the Showery Bow: | |
| ‘Iris! descend, and what we here ordain | 180 |
| Report to you mad tyrant of the main, | |
| Bid him from fight to his own deeps repair, | |
| Or breathe from slaughter in the fields of air. | |
| If he refuse, then let him timely weigh | |
| Our elder birthright, and superior sway. | 185 |
| How shall his rashness stand the dire alarms, | |
| If Heav’n’s omnipotence descend in arms? | |
| Strives he with me, by whom his power was giv’n, | |
| And is there equal to the Lord of Heav’n?’ | |
| Th’ Almighty spoke; the Goddess wing’d her flight | 190 |
| To sacred Ilion from th’ Idæan height. | |
| Swift as the rattling hail or fleecy snows | |
| Drive thro’ the skies, when Boreas fiercely blows; | |
| So from the clouds descending Iris falls; | |
| And to blue Neptune thus the Goddess calls: | 195 |
| ‘Attend the mandate of the Sire above, | |
| In me behold the Messenger of Jove: | |
| He bids thee from forbidden wars repair | |
| To thy own deeps, or to the fields of air. | |
| This if refused, he bids thee timely weigh | 200 |
| His elder birthright, and superior sway. | |
| How shall thy rashness stand the dire alarms, | |
| If Heav’n’s omnipotence descend in arms? | |
| Strivest thou with him, by whom all power is giv’n? | |
| And art thou equal to the lord of Heav’n?’ | 205 |
| ‘What means the haughty Sov’reign of the Skies?’ | |
| (The King of Ocean thus, incens’d, replies): | |
| ‘Rule as he will his portion’d realms on high, | |
| No vassal God, nor of his train, am I. | |
| Three brother deities from Saturn came, | 210 |
| And ancient Rhea, earth’s immortal dame: | |
| Assign’d by lot, our triple rule we know: | |
| Infernal Pluto sways the shades below; | |
| O’er the wide clouds, and o’er the starry plain, | |
| Ethereal Jove extends his high domain; | 215 |
| My court beneath the hoary waves I keep, | |
| And hush the roarings of the sacred deep: | |
| Olympus, and this earth, in common lie; | |
| What claim has here the Tyrant of the Sky? | |
| Far in the distant clouds let him control, | 220 |
| And awe the younger brothers of the pole; | |
| There to his children his commands be giv’n, | |
| The trembling, servile, second race of Heav’n.’ | |
| ‘And must I then’ (said she), ‘O Sire of floods! | |
| Bear this fierce answer to the King of Gods? | 225 |
| Correct it yet, and change thy rash intent; | |
| A noble mind disdains not to repent. | |
| To elder brothers guardian fiends are giv’n, | |
| To scourge the wretch insulting them and Heav’n.’ | |
| ‘Great is the profit’ (thus the God rejoin’d), | 230 |
| ‘When ministers are bless’d with prudent mind: | |
| Warn’d by thy words, to powerful Jove I yield, | |
| And quit, tho’ angry, the contended field. | |
| Not but his threats with justice I disclaim, | |
| The same our honours, and our birth the same. | 235 |
| If yet, forgetful of his promise giv’n | |
| To Hermes, Pallas, and the queen of Heav’n, | |
| To favour Ilion, that perfidious place, | |
| He breaks his faith with half th’ ethereal race; | |
| Give him to know, unless the Grecian train | 240 |
| Lay yon proud structures level with the plain, | |
| Howe’er th’ offence by other Gods be pass’d, | |
| The wrath of Neptune shall for ever last.’ | |
| Thus speaking, furious from the field he strode, | |
| And plunged into the bosom of the flood. | 245 |
| The Lord of Thunders from his lofty height | |
| Beheld, and thus bespoke the source of light: | |
| ‘Behold! the God whose liquid arms are hurl’d | |
| Around the globe, whose earthquakes rock the world, | |
| Desists at length his rebel-war to wage, | 250 |
| Seeks his own seas, and trembles at our rage: | |
| Else had my wrath, Heav’n’s thrones all shaking round, | |
| Burn’d to the bottom of his seas profound; | |
| And all the Gods that round old Saturn dwell, | |
| Had heard the thunders to the deeps of Hell. | 255 |
| Well was the crime, and well the vengeance spared, | |
| Ev’n power immense had found such battle hard. | |
| Go thou, my son! the trembling Greeks alarm, | |
| Shake my broad ægis on thy active arm: | |
| Be godlike Hector thy peculiar care, | 260 |
| Swell his bold heart, and urge his strength to war: | |
| Let Ilion conquer, till the Achaian train | |
| Fly to their ships and Hellespont again: | |
| Then Greece shall breathe from toils.’ The Godhead said; | |
| His will divine the Son of Jove obey’d. | 265 |
| Not half so swift the sailing falcon flies, | |
| That drives a turtle thro’ the liquid skies; | |
| As Phœbus, shooting from th’ Idæan brow, | |
| Glides down the mountain to the plain below. | |
| There Hector seated by the stream he sees, | 270 |
| His sense returning with the coming breeze; | |
| Again his pulses beat, his spirits rise; | |
| Again his lov’d companions meet his eyes; | |
| Jove thinking of his pains, they pass’d away. | |
| To whom the God who gives the golden day: | 275 |
| ‘Why sits great Hector from the field so far, | |
| What grief, what wound, withholds him from the war?’ | |
| The fainting hero, as the vision bright | |
| Stood shining o’er him, half unseal’d his sight: | |
| ‘What bless’d immortal, with commanding breath, | 280 |
| Thus wakens Hector from the sleep of death? | |
| Has fame not told, how, while my trusty sword | |
| Bathed Greece in slaughter, and her battle gored, | |
| The mighty Ajax with a deadly blow | |
| Had almost sunk me to the shades below? | 285 |
| Ev’n yet, methinks, the gliding ghosts I spy, | |
| And Hell’s black horrors swim before my eye.’ | |
| To him Apollo: ‘Be no more dismay’d; | |
| See, and be strong! the Thund’rer sends thee aid: | |
| Behold! thy Phœbus shall his arms employ, | 290 |
| Phœbus, propitious still to thee and Troy. | |
| Inspire thy warriors then with manly force, | |
| And to the ships impel thy rapid horse: | |
| Ev’n I will make thy fiery coursers’ way, | |
| And drive the Grecians headlong to the sea.’ | 295 |
| Thus to bold Hector spoke the Son of Jove, | |
| And breathed immortal ardour from above. | |
| As when the pamper’d steed, with reins unbound, | |
| Breaks from his stall, and pours along the ground; | |
| With ample strokes he rushes to the flood, | 300 |
| To bather his sides and cool his fiery blood: | |
| His head, now freed, he tosses to the skies: | |
| His mane dishevell’d o’er his shoulders flies: | |
| He snuffs the females in the well-known plain, | |
| And springs, exulting, to his fields again: | 305 |
| Urged by the voice divine, thus Hector flew, | |
| Full of the God; and all his hosts pursue. | |
| As when the force of men and dogs combin’d | |
| Invade the mountain-goat or branching hind; | |
| Far from the hunter’s rage secure they lie | 310 |
| Close in the rock (not fated yet to die); | |
| When lo! a lion shoots across the way! | |
| They fly: at once the chasers and the prey: | |
| So Greece, that late in conquering troops pursued, | |
| And mark’d their progress thro’ the ranks in blood, | 315 |
| Soon as they see the furious Chief appear, | |
| Forget to vanquish, and consent to fear. | |
| Thoas with grief observ’d his dreadful course, | |
| Thoas, the bravest of th’ Ætolian force; | |
| Skill’d to direct the jav’lin’s distant flight, | 320 |
| And bold to combat in the standing fight; | |
| Nor more in counsels famed for solid sense, | |
| Than winning words and heav’nly eloquence. | |
| ‘Gods! what portent’ (he cried) ‘these eyes invades? | |
| Lo, Hector rises from the Stygian shades! | 325 |
| We saw him, late, by Thund’ring Ajax kill’d; | |
| What God restores him to the frighted field; | |
| And not content that half of Greece lie slain, | |
| Pours new destruction on her sons again? | |
| He comes not, Jove! without thy powerful will; | 330 |
| Lo! still he lives, pursues, and conquers still! | |
| Yet hear my counsel, and his worst withstand; | |
| The Greek’s main body to the fleet command: | |
| But let the few whom brisker spirits warm, | |
| Stand the first onset, and provoke the storm: | 335 |
| Thus point your arms; and when such foes appear, | |
| Fierce as he is, let Hector learn to fear.’ | |
| The warrior spoke, the list’ning Greeks obey, | |
| Thick’ning their ranks, and form a deep array. | |
| Each Ajax, Teucer, Merion gave command, | 340 |
| The valiant leader of the Cretan band, | |
| And Mars-like Meges: these the Chiefs excite, | |
| Approach the foe, and meet the coming fight. | |
| Behind, unnumber’d multitudes attend | |
| To flank the navy, and the shores defend. | 345 |
| Full on the front the pressing Trojans bear, | |
| And Hector first came tow’ring to the war. | |
| Phœbus himself the rushing battle led; | |
| A veil of clouds involv’d his radiant head: | |
| High-held before him, Jove’s enormous shield | 350 |
| Portentous shone, and shaded all the field: | |
| Vulcan to Jove th’ immortal gift consign’d, | |
| To scatter hosts, and terrify mankind. | |
| The Greeks expect the shock; the clamours rise | |
| From diff’rent parts, and mingle in the skies. | 355 |
| Dire was the hiss of darts, by heroes flung, | |
| And arrows leaping from the bow-string sung; | |
| These drink the life of gen’rous warriors slain; | |
| Those guiltless fall, and thirst for blood in vain. | |
| As long as Phœbus bore unmov’d the shield, | 360 |
| Sat doubtful Conquest hov’ring on the field; | |
| But when aloft he shakes it in the skies, | |
| Shouts in their ears, and lightens in their eyes, | |
| Deep horror seizes ev’ry Grecian breast, | |
| Their force is humbled, and their fear confess’d. | 365 |
| So flies a herd of oxen, scatter’d wide, | |
| No swain to guard them, and no day to guide, | |
| When two fell lions from the mountain come, | |
| And spread the carnage thro’ the shady gloom. | |
| Impending Phœbus pours around them fear, | 370 |
| And Troy and Hector thunder in the rear. | |
| Heaps fall on heaps: the slaughter Hector leads; | |
| First, great Arcesilas, then Stichius bleeds; | |
| One to the bold Bœotians ever dear, | |
| And one Menestheus’ friend, and famed compeer. | 375 |
| Medon and Iäsus, Æneas sped; | |
| This sprung from Phelus, and th’ Athenians led; | |
| But hapless Medon from Oïleus came; | |
| Him Ajax honour’d with a brother’s name, | |
| Tho’ born of lawless love: from home expell’d, | 380 |
| A banish’d man, in Phylace he dwell’d, | |
| Press’d by the vengeance of an angry wife; | |
| Troy ends, at last, his labours and his life. | |
| Mecystes next, Polydamas o’erthrew; | |
| And thee, brave Clonius! great Agenor slew. | 385 |
| By Paris, Deiochus inglorious dies, | |
| Pierc’d thro’ the shoulder as he basely flies. | |
| Polites’ arm laid Echius on the plain; | |
| Stretch’d on one heap, the victors spoil the slain. | |
| The Greeks dismay’d, confused, disperse or fall, | 390 |
| Some seek the trench, some skulk behind the wall; | |
| While these fly trembling, others pant for breath. | |
| And o’er the slaughter stalks gigantic death. | |
| On rush’d bold Hector, gloomy as the night, | |
| Forbids to plunder, animates the fight. | 395 |
| Points to the fleet: ‘For, by the Gods, who flies, | |
| Who dares but linger, by this hand he dies; | |
| No weeping sister his cold eye shall close, | |
| No friendly hand his funeral pyre compose. | |
| Who stops to plunder at this signal hour, | 400 |
| The birds shall tear him, and the dogs devour.’ | |
| Furious he said; the smarting scourge resounds; | |
| The coursers fly; the smoking chariot bounds; | |
| The hosts rush on; loud clamours shake the shore; | |
| The horses thunder, earth and ocean roar! | 405 |
| Apollo, planted at the trench’s bound, | |
| Push’d at the bank; down sunk th’ enormous mound: | |
| Roll’d in the ditch the heapy ruin lay; | |
| A sudden road! a long and ample way: | |
| O’er the dread fosse (a late impervious space) | 410 |
| Now steeds, and men, and cars tumultuous pass. | |
| The wond’ring crowds the downward level trod; | |
| Before them flamed the shield, and march’d the God. | |
| Then with his hand he shook the mighty wall; | |
| And lo! the turrets nod, the bulwarks fall. | 415 |
| Easy, as when ashore an infant stands. | |
| And draws imagin’d houses in the sands; | |
| The sportive wanton, pleas’d with some new play. | |
| Sweeps the slight works and fashion’d domes away. | |
| Thus vanish’d, at thy touch, the towers and walls; | 420 |
| The toil of thousands in a moment falls. | |
| The Grecians gaze around with wild despair, | |
| Confused, and weary all the powers with prayer; | |
| Exhort their men, with praises, threats, commands; | |
| And urge the Gods, with voices, eyes, and hands. | 425 |
| Experienc’d Nestor chief obtests the skies, | |
| And weeps his country with a father’s eyes: | |
| ‘O Jove! if ever, on his native shore, | |
| One Greek enrich’d thy shrine with offer’d gore; | |
| If e’er in hope our country to behold, | 430 |
| We paid the fatted firstlings of the fold; | |
| If e’er thou sign’st our wishes with thy nod; | |
| Perform the promise of a gracious God! | |
| This day preserve our navies from the flame, | |
| And save the reliques of the Grecian name.’ | 435 |
| Thus pray’d the sage: th’ Eternal gave consent, | |
| And peals of Thunder shook the firmament. | |
| Presumptuous Troy mistook th’ accepting sign, | |
| And catch’d new fury at the voice divine. | |
| As, when black tempests mix the seas and skies, | 440 |
| The roaring deeps in wat’ry mountains rise, | |
| Above the sides of some tall ship ascend, | |
| Its womb they deluge, and its ribs they rend: | |
| Thus loudly roaring, and o’erpowering all, | |
| Mount the thick Trojans up the Grecian wall; | 445 |
| Legions on legions from each side arise: | |
| Thick sound the keels; the storm of arrows flies: | |
| Fierce on the ships above, the cars below, | |
| These wield the mace, and those the jav’lin throw. | |
| While thus the thunder of the battle raged, | 450 |
| And lab’ring armies round the works engaged; | |
| Still in the tent Patroclus sat, to tend | |
| The good Eurypylus, his wounded friend. | |
| He sprinkles healing balms, to anguish kind, | |
| And adds discourse, the med’cine of the mind. | 455 |
| But when he saw, ascending up the fleet, | |
| Victorious Troy; then, starting from his seat, | |
| With bitter groans his sorrows he express’d; | |
| He wrings his hands, he beats his manly breast. | |
| ‘Tho’ yet thy state require redress’ (he cries), | 460 |
| ‘Depart I must: what horrors strike my eyes! | |
| Charged with Achilles’ high commands I go, | |
| A mournful witness of this scene of woe: | |
| I haste to urge him, by his country’s care, | |
| To rise in arms, and shine again in war. | 465 |
| Perhaps some fav’ring God his soul may bend: | |
| The voice is powerful of a faithful friend.’ | |
| He spoke; and, speaking, swifter than the wind | |
| Sprung from the tent, and left the war behind. | |
| Th’ embodied Greeks the fierce attack sustain, | 470 |
| But strive, tho’ numerous, to repulse in vain: | |
| Nor could the Trojans, thro’ that firm array, | |
| Force, to the fleet and tents, th’ impervious way. | |
| As when a shipwright, with Palladian art, | |
| Smooths the rough wood, and levels ev’ry part: | 475 |
| With equal hand he guides his whole design, | |
| By the just rule, and the directing line: | |
| The martial leaders, with like skill and care, | |
| Preserv’d their line, and equal kept the war. | |
| Brave deeds of arms thro’ all the ranks were tried, | 480 |
| And ev’ry ship sustain’d an equal tide. | |
| At one proud bark, high-tow’ring o’er the fleet, | |
| Ajax the great and Godlike Hector meet: | |
| For one bright prize the matchless Chiefs contend, | |
| Nor this the ships can fire, nor that defend; | 485 |
| One kept the shore, and one the vessel trod; | |
| That fix’d as fate, this acted by a God. | |
| The son of Clytius in his daring hand, | |
| The deck approaching, shakes a flaming brand; | |
| But pierc’d by Telamon’s huge lance expires; | 490 |
| Thund’ring he falls, and drops th’ extinguish’d fires. | |
| Great Hector view’d him with a sad survey, | |
| As stretch’d in dust before the stern he lay. | |
| ‘Oh! all of Trojan, all of Lycian race! | |
| Stand to your arms, maintain this arduous space. | 495 |
| Lo! where the son of royal Clytius lies, | |
| Ah, save his arms, secure his obsequies!’ | |
| This said, his eager, jav’lin sought the foe: | |
| But Ajax shunn’d the meditated blow. | |
| Not vainly yet the forceful lance was thrown; | 500 |
| It stretch’d in dust unhappy Lycophron: | |
| An exile long, sustain’d at Ajax’ board, | |
| A faithful servant to a foreign lord; | |
| In peace, in war, for ever at his side, | |
| Near his lov’d master, as he liv’d, he died. | 505 |
| From the high poop he tumbles on the sand, | |
| And lies, a lifeless load, along the land. | |
| With anguish Ajax views the piercing sight, | |
| And thus inflames his brother to the fight: | |
| ‘Teucer, behold! extended on the shore, | 510 |
| Our friend, our lov’d companion! now no more! | |
| Dear as a parent, with a parent’s care | |
| To fight our wars, he left his native air. | |
| This death deplor’d to Hector’s rage we owe; | |
| Revenge, revenge it on the cruel foe! | 515 |
| Where are those darts on which the fates attend? | |
| And where the bow which Phœbus taught to bend?’ | |
| Impatient Teucer, hast’ning to his aid, | |
| Before the Chief his ample bow display’d; | |
| The well-stored quiver on his shoulders hung: | 520 |
| Then hiss’d his arrow, and the bow-string sung. | |
| Clytus, Pisenor’s son, renown’d in fame | |
| (To thee, Polydamas! an honour’d name), | |
| Drove thro’ the thickest of th’ embattled plains | |
| The startling steeds, and shook his eager reins. | 525 |
| As all on glory ran his ardent mind, | |
| The pointed death arrests him from behind: | |
| Thro’ his fair neck the thrilling arrow flies; | |
| In youth’s first bloom reluctantly he dies. | |
| Hurl’d from the lofty seat, at distance far, | 530 |
| The headlong coursers spurn his empty car; | |
| Till sad Polydamas the steeds restrain’d, | |
| And gave, Astynous, to thy careful hand; | |
| Then, fired to vengeance, rush’d amidst the foe; | |
| Rage edg’d his sword, and strengthen’d ev’ry blow. | 535 |
| Once more bold Teucer, in his country’s cause, | |
| At Hector’s breast a chosen arrow draws: | |
| And had the weapon found the destin’d way, | |
| Thy fall, great Trojan! had renown’d that day. | |
| But Hector was not doom’d to perish then: | 540 |
| Th’ all-wise disposer of the fates of men | |
| (Imperial Jove) his present death withstands; | |
| Nor was such glory due to Teucer’s hands. | |
| At his full stretch as the tough string he drew, | |
| Struck by an arm unseen, it burst in two: | 545 |
| Down dropp’d the bow: the shaft with brazen head | |
| Fell innocent, and on the dust lay dead. | |
| Th’ astonish’d archer to great Ajax cries: | |
| ‘Some God prevents our destin’d enterprise: | |
| Some God propitious to the Trojan foe, | 550 |
| Has, from my arm unfailing, struck the bow, | |
| And broke the nerve my hands had twined with art, | |
| Strong to impel the flight of many a dart.’ | |
| ‘Since Heav’n commands it’ (Ajax made reply), | |
| ‘Dismiss the bow, and lay thy arrows by: | 555 |
| Thy arms no less suffice the lance to wield, | |
| And quit the quiver for the pond’rous shield. | |
| In the first ranks indulge thy thirst of fame, | |
| Thy brave example shall the rest inflame. | |
| Fierce as they are, by long successes vain, | 560 |
| To force our fleet, or ev’n a ship to gain, | |
| Asks toil, and sweat, and blood: their utmost might | |
| Shall find its match—No more; ’t is ours to fight.’ | |
| Then Teucer laid his faithless bow aside: | |
| The fourfold buckler o’er his shoulder tied; | 565 |
| On his brave head a crested helm he placed, | |
| With nodding horsehair formidably graced; | |
| A dart, whose point with brass refulgent shines, | |
| The warrior wields; and his great brother joins. | |
| This Hector saw, and thus express’d his joy; | 570 |
| ‘Ye troops of Lycia, Dardanus, and Troy! | |
| Be mindful of yourselves, your ancient fame, | |
| And spread your glory with the navy’s flame. | |
| Jove is with us; I saw his hand, but now, | |
| From the proud archer strike his vaunted bow. | 575 |
| Indulgent Jove! how plain thy favours shine, | |
| When happy nations bear the marks divine! | |
| How easy then to see the sinking state | |
| Of realms accurs’d, deserted, reprobate! | |
| Such is the fate of Greece, and such is ours: | 580 |
| Behold, ye warriors, and exert your powers. | |
| Death is the worst; a fate which all must try; | |
| And for our country’ t is a bliss to die. | |
| The gallant man, tho’ slain in fight he be, | |
| Yet leaves his nation safe, his children free; | 585 |
| Entails a debt on all the grateful state; | |
| His own brave friends shall glory in his fate; | |
| His wife live honour’d, all his race succeed, | |
| And late posterity enjoy the deed!’ | |
| This rous’d the soul in ev’ry Trojan breast. | 590 |
| The godlike Ajax next his Greeks address’d: | |
| ‘How long, ye warriors of the Argive race, | |
| (To gen’rous Argos what a dire disgrace!) | |
| How long on these curs’d confines will ye lie, | |
| Yet undetermin’d, or to live, or die? | 595 |
| What hopes remain, what methods to retire, | |
| If once your vessels catch the Trojan fire? | |
| Mark how the flames approach, how near they fall, | |
| How Hector calls, and Troy obeys his call! | |
| Not to the dance that dreadful voice invites; | 600 |
| It calls to death, and all the rage of fights. | |
| ’T is now no time for wisdom or debates; | |
| To your own hands are trusted all your fates: | |
| And better far, in one decisive strife, | |
| One day should end our labour, or our life, | 605 |
| Than keep this hard-got inch of barren sands, | |
| Still press’d, and press’d by such inglorious hands.’ | |
| The list’ning Grecians feel their leader’s flame, | |
| And ev’ry kindling bosom pants for fame. | |
| Then mutual slaughters spread on either side; | 610 |
| By Hector here the Phocian Schedius died; | |
| There, pierc’d by Ajax, sank Laodamas, | |
| Chief of the foot, of old Antenor’s race. | |
| Polydamas laid Otus on the sand, | |
| The fierce commander of th’ Epeian band. | 615 |
| His lance bold Meges at the victor threw; | |
| The victor stooping, from the death withdrew | |
| (That valued life, O Phœbus! was thy care), | |
| But Crœsmus’ bosom took the flying spear: | |
| His corpse fell bleeding on the slipp’ry shore: | 620 |
| His radiant arms triumphant Meges bore. | |
| Dolops, the son of Lampus, rushes on, | |
| Sprung from the race of old Laomedon, | |
| And famed for prowess in a well-fought field; | |
| He pierc’d the centre of his sounding shield: | 625 |
| But Meges Phyleus’ ample breast-plate wore | |
| (Well known in fight on Selles’ winding shore: | |
| For King Euphetes gave the golden mail, | |
| Compact, and firm with many a jointed scale), | |
| Which oft, in cities storm’d, and battles won, | 630 |
| Had saved the father, and now saves the son. | |
| Full at the Trojan’s head he urged his lance, | |
| Where the high plumes above the helmet dance, | |
| New-tinged with Tyrian dye: in dust below, | |
| Shorn from the crest, the purple honours glow; | 635 |
| Meantime their fight the Spartan King survey’d, | |
| And stood by Meges’ side, a sudden aid, | |
| Thro’ Dolops’ shoulder urged his forceful dart, | |
| Which held its passage thro’ the panting heart, | |
| And issued at his breast. With thund’ring sound | 640 |
| The warrior falls extended on the ground. | |
| In rush the conquering Greeks to spoil the slain; | |
| But Hector’s voice excites his kindred train; | |
| The hero most from Hicetaon sprung, | |
| Fierce Melanippus, gallant, brave, and young. | 645 |
| He (e’er to Troy the Grecians cross’d the main) | |
| Fed his large oxen on Percote’s plain; | |
| But when oppress’d, his country claim’d his care, | |
| Return’d to Ilion, and excell’d in war: | |
| For this in Priam’s court he held his place, | 650 |
| Belov’d no less than Priam’s royal race. | |
| Him Hector singled, as his troops he led, | |
| And thus inflamed him, pointing to the dead: | |
| ‘Lo, Melanippus! lo where Dolops lies; | |
| And is it thus our royal kinsman dies? | 655 |
| O’ermatch’d he falls; to two at once a prey, | |
| And lo, they bear the bloody arms away! | |
| Come on—a distant war no longer wage, | |
| But hand to hand thy country’s foes engage: | |
| Till Greece at once, and all her glory, end; | 660 |
| Or Ilion from her tow’ry height descend, | |
| Heav’d from the lowest stone; and bury all | |
| In one sad sepulchre, one common fall.’ | |
| Hector (this said) rush’d forward on the foes: | |
| With equal ardour Melanippus glows: | 665 |
| Then Ajax thus: ‘O Greeks! respect your fame, | |
| Respect yourselves, and learn an honest shame: | |
| Let mutual rev’rence mutual warmth inspire, | |
| And catch from breast to breast the noble fire. | |
| On valour’s side the odds of combat lie, | 670 |
| The brave live glorious, or lamented die; | |
| The wretch that trembles in the Field of Fame, | |
| Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame.’ | |
| His gen’rous sense he not in vain imparts; | |
| It sunk, and rooted in the Grecian hearts. | 675 |
| They join, they throng, they thicken at his call, | |
| And flank the navy with a brazen wall; | |
| Shields touching shields, in order blaze above, | |
| And stop the Trojans, tho’ impell’d by Jove. | |
| The fiery Spartan first, with loud applause, | 680 |
| Warms the bold son of Nestor in his cause. | |
| ‘Is there’ (he said) ‘in arms a youth like you, | |
| So strong to fight, so active to pursue? | |
| Why stand you distant, nor attempt a deed? | |
| Lift the bold lance, and make some Trojan bleed.’ | 685 |
| He said, and backwards to the lines retired; | |
| Forth rush’d the youth, with martial fury fired, | |
| Beyond the foremost ranks; his lance he threw | |
| And round the black battalions cast his view. | |
| The troops of Troy recede with sudden fear, | 690 |
| While the swift jav’lin hiss’d along in air. | |
| Advancing Melanippus met the dart | |
| With his bold breast, and felt it in his heart: | |
| Thund’ring he falls; his falling arms resound, | |
| And his broad buckler rings against the ground. | 695 |
| The victor leaps upon his prostrate prize; | |
| Thus on a roe the well-breathed beagle flies, | |
| And rends his side, fresh-bleeding with the dart | |
| The distant hunter sent into his heart. | |
| Observing Hector to the rescue flew; | 700 |
| Bold as he was, Antilochus withdrew: | |
| So when a savage, ranging o’er the plain, | |
| Has torn the shepherd’s dog, or shepherd swain; | |
| While, conscious of the deed, he glares around, | |
| And hears the gath’ring multitude resound, | 705 |
| Timely he flies the yet untasted food, | |
| And gains the friendly shelter of the wood. | |
| So fears the youth; all Troy with shouts pursue, | |
| While stones and darts in mingled tempests flew; | |
| But, enter’d in the Grecian ranks, he turns | 710 |
| His manly breast, and with new fury burns. | |
| Now on the fleet the tides of Trojans drove, | |
| Fierce to fulfil the stern decrees of Jove: | |
| The Sire of Gods, confirming Thetis’ prayer, | |
| The Grecian ardour quench’d in deep despair; | 715 |
| But lifts to glory Troy’s prevailing bands, | |
| Swells all their hearts, and strengthens all their hands. | |
| On Ida’s top he waits with longing eyes, | |
| To view the navy blazing to the skies; | |
| Then, nor till then, the scale of war shall turn, | 720 |
| The Trojans fly, and conquer’d Ilion burn. | |
| These fates revolv’d in his almighty mind, | |
| He raises Hector to the work design’d, | |
| Bids him with more than mortal fury glow, | |
| And drives him, like a lightning, on the foe. | 725 |
| So Mars, when human crimes for vengeance call, | |
| Shakes his huge jav’lin, and whole armies fall. | |
| Not with more rage a conflagration rolls, | |
| Wraps the vast mountains, and involves the poles. | |
| He foams with wrath; beneath his gloomy brow | 730 |
| Like fiery meteors his red eye-balls glow: | |
| The radiant helmet on his temple burns, | |
| Waves when he nods, and lightens as he turns: | |
| For Jove his splendour round the Chief had thrown, | |
| And cast the blaze of both the hosts on one. | 735 |
| Unhappy glories! for his fate was near, | |
| Due to stern Pallas, and Pelides’ spear: | |
| Yet Jove deferr’d the death he was to pay, | |
| And gave what Fate allow’d, the honours of a day! | |
| Now all on fire for fame, his breast, his eyes | 740 |
| Burn at each foe, and single ev’ry prize; | |
| Still at the closest ranks, the thickest fight, | |
| He points his ardour, and exerts his might. | |
| The Grecian phalanx, moveless as a tower, | |
| On all sides batter’d, yet resists his power: | 745 |
| So some tall rock o’erhangs the hoary main, | |
| By winds assail’d, by billows beat in vain; | |
| Unmov’d it hears, above, the tempest blow, | |
| And sees the wat’ry mountains break below. | |
| Girt in surrounding flames, he seems to fall | 750 |
| Like fire from Jove, and bursts upon them all; | |
| Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends, | |
| And swell’d with tempests on the ship descends; | |
| White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud | |
| Howl o’er the masts, and sing thro’ ev’ry shroud: | 755 |
| Pale, trembling, tired, the sailors freeze with fears; | |
| And instant death on ev’ry wave appears. | |
| So pale the Greeks the eyes of Hector meet, | |
| The Chief so thunders, and so shakes the fleet. | |
| As when a lion rushing from his den, | 760 |
| Amidst the plain of some wide-water’d fen | |
| (Where numerous oxen, as at ease they feed, | |
| At large expatiate o’er the ranker mead), | |
| Leaps on the herds before the herdsman’s eyes: | |
| The trembling herdsman far to distance flies: | 765 |
| Some lordly bull (the rest dispers’d and fled) | |
| He singles out; arrests, and lays him dead. | |
| Thus from the rage of Jove-like Hector flew | |
| All Greece in heaps; but one he seiz’d, and slew. | |
| Mycenean Periphes, a mighty name, | 770 |
| In wisdom great, in arms well-known to fame: | |
| The minister of stern Eurystheus’ ire, | |
| Against Alcides; Copreus was his sire: | |
| The son redeem’d the honours of the race, | |
| A son as gen’rous as the sire was base; | 775 |
| O’er all his country’s youth conspicuous far | |
| In ev’ry virtue, or of peace or war: | |
| But doom’d to Hector’s stronger force to yield! | |
| Against the margin of his ample shield | |
| He struck his hasty foot: his heels upsprung; | 780 |
| Supine he fell, his brazen helmet rung. | |
| On the fall’n Chief th’ invading Trojan press’d, | |
| And plunged the pointed jav’lin in his breast. | |
| His circling friends, who strove to guard too late | |
| Th’ unhappy hero, fled, or shared his fate. | 785 |
| Chased from the foremost line, the Grecian train | |
| Now man the next, receding toward the main: | |
| Wedg’d in one body at the tents they stand, | |
| Wall’d round with sterns, a gloomy, desp’rate band. | |
| Now manly shame forbids th’ inglorious flight; | 790 |
| Now fear itself confines them to the fight: | |
| Man courage breathes in man; but Nestor most | |
| (The sage preserver of the Grecian host) | |
| Exhorts, adjures, to guard these utmost shores; | |
| And by their parents, by themselves, implores: | 795 |
| ‘O friends! be men: your gen’rous breasts inflame | |
| With mutual honour, and with mutual shame! | |
| Think of your hopes, your fortunes; all the care | |
| Your wives, your infants, and your parents, share: | |
| Think of each living father’s rev’rend head; | 800 |
| Think of each ancestor with glory dead; | |
| Absent, by me they speak, by me they sue; | |
| They ask their safety and their fame from you: | |
| The Gods their fates on this one action lay, | |
| And all are lost if you desert the day.’ | 805 |
| He spoke, and round him breathed heroic fires; | |
| Minerva seconds what the sage inspires. | |
| The mist of darkness Jove around them threw, | |
| She clear’d, restoring all the war to view: | |
| A sudden ray shot beaming o’er the plain, | 810 |
| And shew’d the shores, the navy, and the main. | |
| Hector they saw, and all who fly or fight, | |
| The scene wide opening to the blaze of light. | |
| First of the field, great Ajax strikes their eyes, | |
| His port majestic, and his ample size: | 815 |
| A pond’rous mace, with studs of iron crown’d, | |
| Full twenty cubits long, he swings around. | |
| Nor fights like others fix’d to certain stands, | |
| But looks a moving tower above the bands; | |
| High on the decks, with vast gigantic stride, | 820 |
| The godlike hero stalks from side to side. | |
| So when a horseman from the wat’ry mead | |
| (Skill’d in the manage of the bounding steed) | |
| Drives four fair coursers, practis’d to obey, | |
| To some great city thro’ the public way; | 825 |
| Safe in his art, as side by side they run, | |
| He shifts his seat, and vaults from one to one; | |
| And now to this, and now to that he flies; | |
| Admiring numbers follow with their eyes. | |
| From ship to ship thus Ajax swiftly flew, | 830 |
| No less the wonder of the warring crew. | |
| As furious, Hector thunder’d threats aloud, | |
| And rush’d enraged before the Trojan crowd; | |
| Then swift invades the ships, whose beaky prores | |
| Lay rank’d contiguous on the bending shores. | 835 |
| So the strong eagle from his airy height, | |
| Who marks the swans’ or cranes’ embodied flight, | |
| Stoops down impetuous, while they light for food, | |
| And stooping darkens with his wings the flood. | |
| Jove leads him on with his almighty hand, | 840 |
| And breathes fierce spirits in his foll’wing band. | |
| The warring nations meet, the battle roars, | |
| Thick beats the combat on the sounding prores. | |
| Thou would’st have thought, so furious was their fire, | |
| No force could tame them, and no toil could tire; | 845 |
| As if new vigour from new fights they won, | |
| And the long battle was but then begun. | |
| Greece, yet unconquer’d, kept alive the war, | |
| Secure of death, confiding in despair; | |
| Troy in proud hopes already view’d the main | 850 |
| Bright with the blaze, and red with heroes slain: | |
| Like strength is felt from hope, and from despair, | |
| And each contends, as his were all the war. | |
| ’T was thou, bold Hector! whose resistless hand | |
| First seiz’d a ship on that contested strand; | 855 |
| The same which dead Protesilaus bore, | |
| The first that touch’d th’ unhappy Trojan shore. | |
| For this in arms the warring nations stood, | |
| And bathed their gen’rous breasts with mutual blood. | |
| No room to poise the lance, or bend the bow; | 860 |
| But hand to hand, and man to man they grow: | |
| Wounded, they wound; and seek each other’s hearts | |
| With falchions, axes, swords, and shorten’d darts. | |
| The falchions ring, shields rattle, axes sound, | |
| Swords flash in air, or glitter on the ground: | 865 |
| With streaming blood the slipp’ry shores are dyed, | |
| And slaughter’d heroes swell the dreadful tide. | |
| Still raging Hector with his ample hand | |
| Grasps the high stern, and gives his loud command: | |
| ‘Haste, bring the flames! the toil of ten long years | 870 |
| Is finish’d; and the day desired appears! | |
| This happy day with acclamations greet, | |
| Bright with destruction of yon hostile fleet. | |
| The coward counsels of a tim’rous throng | |
| Of rev’rend dotards, check’d out glory long: | 875 |
| Too long Jove lull’d us with lethargic charms, | |
| But now in peals of thunder calls to arms; | |
| In this great day he crowns our full desires, | |
| Wakes all our force, and seconds all our fires.’ | |
| He spoke. The warriors, at his fierce command, | 880 |
| Pour a new deluge on the Grecian band. | |
| Ev’n Ajax paus’d (so thick the jav’lins fly), | |
| Stepp’d back, and doubted or to live, or die. | |
| Yet where the oars are placed, he stands to wait | |
| What Chief approaching dares attempt his fate: | 885 |
| Ev’n to the last his naval charge defends, | |
| Now shakes his spear, now lifts, and now protends; | |
| Ev’n yet, the Greeks with piercing shouts inspires, | |
| Amidst attacks, and deaths, and darts, and fires: | |
| ‘O friends! O heroes! names for ever dear, | 890 |
| Once sons of Mars, and thunderbolts of war! | |
| Ah! yet be mindful of your old renown, | |
| Your great forefathers’ virtues and your own. | |
| What aids expect you in this utmost strait? | |
| What bulwarks rising between you and fate? | 895 |
| No aids, no bulwarks, your retreat attend, | |
| No friends to help, no city to defend. | |
| This spot is all you have, to lose or keep; | |
| There stand the Trojans, and here rolls the deep. | |
| ’T is hostile ground you tread; your native lands | 900 |
| Far, far from hence: your fates are in your hands.’ | |
| Raging he spoke; nor farther wastes his breath, | |
| But turns his jav’lin to the work of death. | |
| Whate’er bold Trojan arm’d his daring bands | |
| Against the sable ships with flaming brands, | 905 |
| So well the Chief his naval weapon sped, | |
| The luckless warrior at his stern lay dead: | |
| Full twelve, the boldest, in a moment fell, | |
| Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell. | |
| |
