THUS round Pelides breathing war and blood, | |
| Greece, sheathed in arms, beside her vessels stood; | |
| While, near impending from a neighb’ring height, | |
| Troy’s black battalions wait the shock of fight. | |
| Then Jove to Themis gives command, to call | 5 |
| The Gods to council in the starry hall: | |
| Swift o’er Olympus’ hundred hills she flies, | |
| And summons all the Senate of the Skies. | |
| These, shining on, in long procession come | |
| To Jove’s eternal adamantine dome. | 10 |
| Not one was absent, not a rural Power | |
| That haunts the verdant gloom, or rosy bower; | |
| Each fair-hair’d Dryad of the shady wood, | |
| Each azure sister of the silver flood; | |
| All but old Ocean, hoary Sire! who keeps | 15 |
| His ancient seat beneath the sacred deeps. | |
| On marble thrones with lucid columns crown’d | |
| (The work of Vulcan) sat the Powers around. | |
| Ev’n he, whose trident sways the wat’ry reign, | |
| Heard the loud summons, and forsook the main, | 20 |
| Assumed his throne amid the bright abodes, | |
| And question’d thus the Sire of men and Gods: | |
| ‘What moves the God who Heav’n and earth commands, | |
| And grasps the thunder in his awful hands, | |
| Thus to convence the whole ethereal state? | 25 |
| Is Greece and Troy the subject in debate? | |
| Already met, the low’ring hosts appear, | |
| And death stands ardent on the edge of war.’ | |
| ‘’T is true’ (the Cloud-compelling Power replies), | |
| ‘This day we call the Council of the skies | 30 |
| In care of human race; ev’n Jove’s own eye | |
| Sees with regret unhappy mortals die. | |
| Far on Olympus’ top in secret state | |
| Ourself will sit, and see the hand of Fate | |
| Work out our will. Celestial Powers! descend, | 35 |
| And, as your minds direct, your succour lend | |
| To either host. Troy soon must lie o’erthrown, | |
| If uncontroll’d Achilles fights alone: | |
| Their troops but lately durst not meet his eyes; | |
| What can they now, if in his rage he rise? | 40 |
| Assist them, Gods! or Ilion’s sacred wall | |
| May fall this day, tho’ Fate forbids the fall.’ | |
| He said, and fired their Heav’nly breasts with rage; | |
| On adverse parts the warring Gods engage. | |
| Heav’n’s awful Queen; and he whose azure round | 45 |
| Girds the vast globe; the Maid in arms renown’d; | |
| Hermes, of profitable arts the sire, | |
| And Vulcan, the black Sov’reign of the Fire: | |
| These to the fleet repair with instant flight; | |
| The vessels tremble as the Gods alight. | 50 |
| In aid of Troy, Latona, Phœbus came, | |
| Mars fiery-helm’d, the Laughter-loving Dame, | |
| Xanthus, whose streams in golden currents flow, | |
| And the chaste Huntress of the Silver Bow. | |
| Ere yet the Gods their various aid employ, | 55 |
| Each Argive bosom swell’d with manly joy, | |
| While great Achilles (terror of the plain) | |
| Long lost to battle, shone in arms again. | |
| Dreadful he stood in front of all his host; | |
| Pale Troy beheld, and seem’d already lost; | 60 |
| Her bravest heroes pant with inward fear, | |
| And trembling see another God of War. | |
| But when the Powers descending swell’d the fight, | |
| Then tumult rose; fierce rage and pale affright | |
| Varied each face; then discord sounds alarms, | 65 |
| Earth echoes, and the nations rush to arms. | |
| Now thro’ the trembling shores Minerva calls, | |
| And now she thunders from the Grecian walls. | |
| Mars, hov’ring o’er his Troy, his terror shrouds | |
| In gloomy tempests, and a night of clouds: | 70 |
| Now thro’ each Trojan heart he fury pours | |
| With voice divine from Ilion’s topmost towers; | |
| Now shouts to Simois, from her beauteous hill; | |
| The mountain shook, the rapid stream stood still. | |
| Above, the Sire of Gods his thunder rolls, | 75 |
| And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles. | |
| Beneath, stern Neptune shakes the solid ground; | |
| The forests wave, the mountains nod around; | |
| Thro’ all their summits tremble Ida’s woods, | |
| And from their sources boil her hundred floods. | 80 |
| Troy’s turrets totter on the rocking plain; | |
| And the toss’d navies beat the heaving main. | |
| Deep in the dismal regions of the dead, | |
| Th’ Infernal Monarch rear’d his horrid head, | |
| Leap’d from his throne, lest Neptune’s arm should lay | 85 |
| His dark dominions open to the day, | |
| And pour in light on Pluto’s drear abodes, | |
| Abhorr’d by men, and dreadful ev’n to Gods. | |
| Such war th’ Immortals wage: such horrors rend | |
| The world’s vast concave, when the Gods contend. | 90 |
| First silver-shafted Phœbus took the plain | |
| Against blue Neptune, Monarch of the Main: | |
| The God of Arms his giant bulk display’d, | |
| Opposed to Pallas, War’s triumphant Maid. | |
| Against Latona march’d the son of May; | 95 |
| The quiver’d Dian, sister of the Day | |
| (Her golden arrows sounding at her side), | |
| Saturnia, Majesty of Heav’n, defied. | |
| With fiery Vulcan last in battle stands | |
| The sacred flood that rolls on golden sands; | 100 |
| Xanthus his name with those of heav’nly birth, | |
| But call’d Scamander by the sons of earth. | |
| While thus the Gods in various league engage, | |
| Achilles glow’d with more than mortal rage: | |
| Hector he sought; in search of Hector turn’d | 105 |
| His eyes around, for Hector only burn’d; | |
| And burst like lightning thro’ the ranks, and vow’d | |
| To glut the God of Battles with his blood. | |
| Æneas was the first who dared to stay; | |
| Apollo wedg’d him in the warrior’s way, | 110 |
| But swell’d his bosom with undaunted might, | |
| Half-forc’d and half-persuaded to the fight. | |
| Like young Lycaon, of the royal line, | |
| In voice and aspect, seem’d the Power divine; | |
| And bade the Chief reflect, how late with scorn | 115 |
| In distant threats he braved the Goddess-born. | |
| Then thus the hero of Anchises’ strain: | |
| ‘To meet Pelides you persuade in vain; | |
| Already have I met, nor void of fear | |
| Observ’d the fury of his flying spear; | 120 |
| From Ida’s woods he chased us to the field, | |
| Our force he scatter’d, and our herds he kill’d. | |
| Lyrnessus, Pedasus in ashes lay; | |
| But (Jove assisting) I survived the day. | |
| Else had I sunk oppress’d in fatal fight, | 125 |
| By fierce Achilles and Minerva’s might. | |
| Where’er he mov’d, the Goddess shone before, | |
| And bathed his brazen lance in hostile gore. | |
| What mortal man Achilles can sustain? | |
| Th’ Immortals guard him thro’ the dreadful plain, | 130 |
| And suffer not his dart to fall in vain. | |
| Were God my aid, this arm should check his power, | |
| Tho’ strong in battle as a brazen tower.’ | |
| To whom the Son of Jove: ‘That God implore, | |
| And be what great Achilles was before. | 135 |
| From heav’nly Venus thou derivest thy strain, | |
| And he but from a Sister of the Main; | |
| An aged Sea-God father of his line, | |
| But Jove himself the sacred source of thine. | |
| Then lift thy weapon for a noble blow, | 140 |
| Nor fear the vaunting of a mortal foe.’ | |
| This said, and spirit breathed into his breast, | |
| Thro’ the thick troops th’ embolden’d hero press’d: | |
| His venturous act the White-arm’d Queen survey’d, | |
| And thus, assembling all the Powers, she said: | 145 |
| ‘Behold an action, Gods! that claims your care, | |
| Lo, great Æneas rushing to the war; | |
| Against Pelides he directs his course; | |
| Phœbus impels, and Phœbus gives him force. | |
| Restrain his bold career; at least, t’ attend | 150 |
| Our favour’d Hero, let some Power descend. | |
| To guard his life, and add to his renown, | |
| We, the great Armament of Heav’n, came down. | |
| Hereafter let him fall, as Fates design, | |
| That spun so short his life’s illustrious line; | 155 |
| But lest some adverse God now cross his way, | |
| Give him to know what Powers assist this day: | |
| For how shall mortal stand the dire alarms, | |
| When Heav’n’s refulgent host appear in arms?’ | |
| Thus she, and thus the God whose force can make | 160 |
| The solid globe’s eternal basis shake: | |
| ‘Against the might of man, so feeble known, | |
| Why should celestial Powers exert their own? | |
| Suffice, from yonder mount to view the scene; | |
| And leave to war the fates of mortal men. | 165 |
| But if th’ Armipotent, or God of Light, | |
| Obstruct Achilles, or commence the fight, | |
| Thence on the Gods of Troy we swift descend: | |
| Full soon, I doubt not, shall the conflict end; | |
| And these, in ruin and confusion hurl’d, | 170 |
| Yield to our conquering arms the lower world.’ | |
| Thus having said, the Tyrant of the Sea, | |
| Cœrulean Neptune, rose, and led the way. | |
| Advanc’d upon the field there stood a mound | |
| Of earth congested, wall’d, and trench’d around; | 175 |
| In elder times to guard Alcides made | |
| (The work of Trojans with Minerva’s aid), | |
| What time a vengeful monster of the main | |
| Swept the wide shore, and drove him to the plain. | |
| Here Neptune and the Gods of Greece repair, | 180 |
| With clouds encompass’d, and a veil of air: | |
| The adverse Powers, around Apollo laid, | |
| Crown the fair hills that silver Simois shade. | |
| In circle close each heav’nly party sat, | |
| Intent to form the future scheme of Fate; | 185 |
| But mix not yet in fight, tho’ Jove on high | |
| Gives the loud signal, and the Heav’ns reply. | |
| Meanwhile the rushing armies hide the ground; | |
| The trampled centre yields a hollow sound: | |
| Steeds cased in mail, and Chiefs in armour bright, | 190 |
| The gleamy champaign glows with brazen light. | |
| Amidst both hosts (a dreadful space!) appear | |
| There, great Achilles; bold Æneas here. | |
| With tow’ring strides Æneas first advanc’d; | |
| The nodding plumage on his helmet danc’d; | 195 |
| Spread o’er his breast the fencing shield he bore, | |
| And, as he mov’d, his jav’lin flamed before. | |
| Not so Pelides: furious to engage, | |
| He rush’d impetuous. Such the lion’s rage, | |
| Who, viewing first his foes with scornful eyes, | 200 |
| Tho’ all in arms the peopled city rise, | |
| Stalks careless on, with unregarding pride; | |
| Till at the length, by some brave youth defied, | |
| To his bold spear the savage turns alone; | |
| He murmurs fury with a hollow groan: | 205 |
| He grins, he foams, he rolls his eyes around; | |
| Lash’d by his tail, his heaving sides resound; | |
| He calls up all his rage, he grinds his teeth, | |
| Resolv’d on vengeance, or resolv’d on death. | |
| So fierce Achilles on Æneas flies; | 210 |
| So stands Æneas, and his force defies. | |
| Ere yet the stern encounter join’d, begun | |
| The seed of Thetis thus to Venus’ son: | |
| ‘Why comes Æneas thro’ the ranks so far? | |
| Seeks he to meet Achilles’ arm in war, | 215 |
| In hope the realms of Priam to enjoy, | |
| And prove his merits to the throne of Troy? | |
| Grant that beneath thy lance Achilles dies, | |
| The partial Monarch may refuse the prize; | |
| Sons he has many: those thy pride may quell; | 220 |
| And ’t is his fault to love those sons too well. | |
| Or, in reward of thy victorious hand, | |
| Has Troy proposed some spacious tract of land? | |
| An ample forest, or a fair domain, | |
| Of hills for vines, and arable for grain? | 225 |
| Ev’n this, perhaps, will hardly prove thy lot. | |
| But can Achilles be so soon forgot? | |
| Once (as I think) you saw this brandish’d spear, | |
| And then the great Æneas seem’d to fear. | |
| With hearty haste from Ida’s mount he fled, | 230 |
| Nor, till he reach’d Lyrnessus, turn’d his head. | |
| Her lofty walls not long our progress stay’d; | |
| Those, Pallas, Jove, and we, in ruins laid: | |
| In Grecian chains her captive race were cast; | |
| ’T is true, the great Æneas fled too fast. | 235 |
| Defrauded of my conquest once before, | |
| What then I lost, the Gods this day restore. | |
| Go; while thou may’st, avoid the threaten’d fate; | |
| Fools stay to feel it, and are wise too late.’ | |
| To this Anchises’ son: ‘Such words employ | 240 |
| To one that fears thee, some unwarlike boy; | |
| Such we disdain; the best may be defied | |
| With mean reproaches, and unmanly pride: | |
| Unworthy the high race from which we came, | |
| Proclaim’d so loudly by the voice of Fame; | 245 |
| Each from illustrious fathers draws his line; | |
| Each Goddess-born; half human, half divine. | |
| Thetis’ this day, or Venus’ offspring dies, | |
| And tears shall trickle from celestial eyes: | |
| For when two heroes, thus derived, contend, | 250 |
| ’T is not in words the glorious strife can end. | |
| If yet thou farther seek to learn my birth | |
| (A tale resounded thro’ the spacious earth), | |
| Hear how the glorious origin we prove | |
| From ancient Dardanus, the first from Jove: | 255 |
| Dardania’s walls he rais’d; for Ilion then | |
| (The city since of many-languaged men) | |
| Was not. The natives were content to till | |
| The shady foot of Ida’s fountful hill. | |
| From Dardanus, great Erichthonius springs, | 260 |
| The richest once of Asia’s wealthy Kings; | |
| Three thousand mares his spacious pastures bred, | |
| Three thousand foals beside their mothers fed. | |
| Boreas, enamour’d of the sprightly train, | |
| Conceal’d his Godhead in a flowing mane, | 265 |
| With voice dissembled to his loves he neigh’d, | |
| And cours’d the dappled beauties o’er the mead: | |
| Hence sprung twelve others of unrivall’d kind, | |
| Swift as their mother mares and father wind. | |
| These lightly skimming, when they swept the plain, | 270 |
| Nor plied the grass, nor bent the tender grain; | |
| And when along the level seas they flew, | |
| Scarce on the surface curl’d the briny dew. | |
| Such Erichthonius was: From him there came | |
| The sacred Tros, of whom the Trojan name. | 275 |
| Three sons renown’d adorn’d his nuptial bed, | |
| Ilus, Assaracus, and Ganymed: | |
| The matchless Ganymed, divinely fair, | |
| Whom Heav’n, enamour’d, snatch’d to upper air, | |
| To bear the cup of Jove (ethereal guest, | 280 |
| The grace and glory of th’ ambrosial feast). | |
| The two remaining sons the line divide: | |
| First rose Laomedon from Ilus’ side: | |
| From him Tithonus, now in cares grown old, | |
| And Priam (best with Hector, brave and bold); | 285 |
| Clytius and Lampus, ever-honour’d pair; | |
| And Hicetaon, thunderbolt of war. | |
| From great Assaracus sprung Capys, he | |
| Begat Anchises, and Anchises me, | |
| Such is our race: ’t is Fortune gives us birth, | 290 |
| But Jove alone endues the soul with worth: | |
| He, source of power and might! with boundless sway | |
| All human courage gives or takes away. | |
| Long in the field of words we may contend, | |
| Reproach is infinite, and knows no end, | 295 |
| Arm’d or with truth or falsehood, right or wrong, | |
| So voluble a weapon is the tongue; | |
| Wounded, we wound; and neither side can fail, | |
| For ev’ry man has equal strength to rail: | |
| Women alone, when in the streets they jar, | 300 |
| Perhaps excel us in this wordy war; | |
| Like us they stand, encompass’d with the crowd, | |
| And vent their anger, impotent and loud. | |
| Cease then: our bus’ness in the Field of Fight | |
| Is not to question, but to prove our might. | 305 |
| To all those insults thou hast offer’d here | |
| Receive this answer: ’t is my flying spear.’ | |
| He spoke. With all his force the jav’lin flung, | |
| Fix’d deep, and loudly in the buckler rung. | |
| Far on his outstretch’d arm Pelides held | 310 |
| (To meet the thund’ring lance) his dreadful shield, | |
| That trembled as it struck; nor void of fear | |
| Saw, ere it fell, th’ immeasurable spear. | |
| His fears were vain; impenetrable charms | |
| Secured the temper of th’ ethereal arms. | 315 |
| Thro’ two strong plates the point its passage held, | |
| But stopp’d and rested, by the third repell’d; | |
| Five plates of various metal, various mould, | |
| Composed the shield; of brass each outward fold, | |
| Of tin each inward, and the middle gold: | 320 |
| There stuck the lance. Then, rising ere he threw, | |
| The forceful spear of great Achilles flew, | |
| And pierc’d the Dardan shield’s extremest bound, | |
| Where the shrill brass return’d a sharper sound: | |
| Thro’ the thin verge the Pelian weapon glides, | 325 |
| And the slight cov’ring of expanded hides. | |
| Æneas his contracted body bends, | |
| And o’er him high the riven targe extends, | |
| Sees, thro’ its parting plates, the upper air, | |
| And at his back perceives the quiv’ring spear: | 330 |
| A fate so near him chills his soul with fright, | |
| And swims before his eyes the many-colour’d light. | |
| Achilles, rushing in with dreadful cries, | |
| Draws his broad blade, and at Æneas flies: | |
| Æneas, rousing as the foe came on | 335 |
| (With force collected), heaves a mighty stone; | |
| A mass enormous! which, in modern days | |
| No two of earth’s degen’rate sons could raise. | |
| But ocean’s God, whose earthquakes rock the ground, | |
| Saw the distress, and mov’d the Powers around: | 340 |
| ‘Lo! on the brink of fate Æneas stands, | |
| An instant victim to Achilles’ hands; | |
| By Phœbus urged; but Phœbus has bestow’d | |
| His aid in vain: the man o’erpowers the God. | |
| And can ye see this righteous Chief atone, | 345 |
| With guiltless blood, for vices not his own? | |
| To all the Gods his constant vows were paid; | |
| Sure, tho’ he wars for Troy, he claims our aid. | |
| Fate wills not this; nor thus can Jove resign | |
| The future father of the Dardan line: | 350 |
| The first great ancestor obtain’d his grace, | |
| And still his love descends on all the race. | |
| For Priam now, and Priam’s faithless kind, | |
| At length are odious to th’ all-seeing mind; | |
| On great Æneas shall devolve the reign, | 355 |
| And sons succeeding sons the lasting line sustain.’ | |
| The great earth-shaker thus: to whom replies | |
| Th’ imperial Goddess with the radiant eyes: | |
| ‘Good as he is, to immolate or spare | |
| The Dardan Prince, O Neptune, be thy care; | 360 |
| Pallas and I, by all that Gods can bind, | |
| Have sworn destruction to the Trojan kind; | |
| Not ev’n an instant to protract their fate, | |
| Or save one member of the sinking state; | |
| Till her last flame be quench’d with her last gore, | 365 |
| And ev’n her crumbling ruins are no more.’ | |
| The King of Ocean to the fight descends; | |
| Thro’ all the whistling darts his course he bends, | |
| Swift interposed between the warriors flies, | |
| And casts thick darkness o’er Achilles’ eyes. | 370 |
| From great Æneas’ shield the spear he drew, | |
| And at its master’s feet the weapon threw. | |
| That done, with force divine he snatch’d on high | |
| The Dardan Prince, and bore him thro’ the sky, | |
| Smooth-gliding without step, above the heads | 375 |
| Of warring heroes and of bounding steeds. | |
| Till at the battle’s utmost verge they light, | |
| Where the slow Caucons close the rear of fight: | |
| The Godhead there (his heav’nly form confess’d) | |
| With words like these the panting Chief address’d: | 380 |
| ‘What Power, O Prince, with force inferior far | |
| Urged thee to meet Achilles’ arm in war? | |
| Henceforth beware, nor antedate thy doom, | |
| Defrauding Fate of all thy fame to come. | |
| But when the day decreed (for come it must), | 385 |
| Shall lay this dreadful hero in the dust, | |
| Let then the furies of that arm be known, | |
| Secure no Grecian force transcends thy own.’ | |
| With that, he left him wond’ring as he lay, | |
| Then from Achilles chased the mist away: | 390 |
| Sudden, returning with the stream of light, | |
| The scene of war came rushing on his sight. | |
| Then thus amazed: ‘What wonders strike my mind! | |
| My spear, that parted on the wings of wind, | |
| Laid here before me! and the Dardan lord, | 395 |
| That fell this instant, vanish’d from my sword! | |
| I thought alone with mortals to contend, | |
| But Powers celestial sure this foe defend. | |
| Great as he is, our arm he scarce will try, | |
| Content for once, with all his Gods, to fly. | 400 |
| Now then let others bleed.’ This said, aloud | |
| He vents his fury, and inflames the crowd: | |
| ‘O Greeks’ (he cries, and every rank alarms), | |
| ‘Join battle, man to man, and arms to arms! | |
| ’T is not in me, tho’ favour’d by the sky, | 405 |
| To mow whole troops, and make whole armies fly: | |
| No God can singly such a host engage, | |
| Not Mars himself, nor great Minerva’s rage. | |
| But whatsoe’er Achilles can inspire, | |
| Whate’er of active force, or acting fire, | 410 |
| Whate’er this heart can prompt, or hand obey; | |
| All, all Achilles, Greeks, is yours to-day. | |
| Thro’ you wide host this arm shall scatter fear, | |
| And thin the squadrons with my single spear.’ | |
| He said: nor less elate with martial joy, | 415 |
| The godlike Hector warm’d the troops of Troy: | |
| ‘Trojans, to war! think Hector leads you on; | |
| Nor dread the vaunts of Peleus’ haughty son. | |
| Deeds must decide our fate. Ev’n those with words | |
| Insult the brave, who tremble at their swords; | 420 |
| The weakest atheist-wretch all Heav’n defies, | |
| But shrinks and shudders, when the thunder flies. | |
| Nor from yon boaster shall your Chief retire, | |
| Not tho’ his heart were steel, his hands were fire; | |
| That fire, that steel, your Hector should withstand, | 425 |
| And brave that vengeful heart, that dreadful hand.’ | |
| Thus (breathing rage thro’ all) the hero said; | |
| A wood of lances rises round his head, | |
| Clamours on clamours tempest all the air; | |
| They join, they throng, they thicken to the war. | 430 |
| But Phœbus warns him from high Heav’n to shun | |
| The single fight with Thetis’ godlike son: | |
| More safe to combat in the mingled band, | |
| Nor tempt too near the terrors of his hand. | |
| He hears, obedient to the God of Light, | 435 |
| And, plunged within the ranks, awaits the fight. | |
| Then fierce Achilles, shouting to the skies, | |
| On Troy’s whole force with boundless fury flies. | |
| First falls Iphytion, at his army’s head; | |
| Brave was the Chief, and brave the host he led; | 440 |
| From great Otrynteus he derived his blood, | |
| His mother was a Naïs of the flood; | |
| Beneath the shades of Tmolus, crown’d with snow, | |
| From Hyde’s walls he ruled the lands below. | |
| Fierce as he springs, the sword his head divides; | 445 |
| The parted visage falls on equal sides: | |
| With loud resounding arms he strikes the plain; | |
| While thus Achilles glories o’er the slain: | |
| ‘Lie there, Otryntides! the Trojan earth | |
| Receives thee dead, tho’ Gygæ boast thy birth; | 450 |
| Those beauteous fields where Hyllus’ waves are roll’d, | |
| And plenteous Hermus swells with tides of gold, | |
| Are thine no more.’ Th’ insulting hero said, | |
| And left him sleeping in eternal shade. | |
| The rolling wheels of Greece the body tore, | 455 |
| And dash’d their axles with no vulgar gore. | |
| Demoleon next, Antenor’s offspring, laid | |
| Breathless in dust, the price of rashness paid. | |
| Th’ impatient steel with full descending sway | |
| Forc’d thro’ his brazen helm its furious way, | 460 |
| Resistless drove the batter’d skull before, | |
| And dash’d and mingled all the brains with gore. | |
| This sees Hippodamas, and, seiz’d with fright, | |
| Deserts his chariot for a swifter flight: | |
| The lance arrests him; an ignoble wound | 465 |
| The panting Trojan rivets to the ground. | |
| He groans away his soul: not louder roars | |
| At Neptune’s shrine on Helice’s high shores | |
| The victim bull; the rocks rebellow round, | |
| And ocean listens to the grateful sound. | 470 |
| Then fell on Polydore his vengeful rage, | |
| The youngest hope of Priam’s stooping age | |
| (Whose feet for swiftness in the race surpass’d); | |
| Of all his sons, the dearest and the last. | |
| To the forbidden field he takes his flight | 475 |
| In the first folly of a youthful knight; | |
| To vaunt his swiftness wheels around the plain, | |
| But vaunts not long, with all his swiftness slain; | |
| Struck where the crossing belts unite behind, | |
| And golden rings the double back-plate join’d. | 480 |
| Forth thro’ the navel burst the thrilling steel; | |
| And on his knees with piercing shrieks he fell; | |
| The rushing entrails pour’d upon the ground | |
| His hands collect: and darkness wraps him round. | |
| When Hector view’d, all ghastly in his gore, | 485 |
| Thus sadly slain, th’ unhappy Polydore; | |
| A cloud of sorrow overcast his sight, | |
| His soul no longer brook’d the distant fight; | |
| Full in Achilles’ dreadful front he came, | |
| And shook his jav’lin like a waving flame. | 490 |
| The son of Peleus sees, with joy possess’d, | |
| His heart high-bounding in his rising breast: | |
| And, ‘Lo! the man, on whom black fates attend; | |
| The man that slew Achilles in his friend! | |
| No more shall Hector’s and Pelides’ spear | 495 |
| Turn from each other in the walks of war.’ | |
| Then with revengeful eyes he scann’d him o’er— | |
| ‘Come, and receive thy Fate!’ He spake no more. | |
| Hector, undaunted, thus: ‘Such words employ | |
| To one that dreads thee, some unwarlike boy: | 500 |
| Such we could give, defying and defied, | |
| Mean intercourse of obloquy and pride! | |
| I know thy force to mine superior far; | |
| But Heav’n alone confers success in war; | |
| Mean as I am, the Gods may guide my dart, | 505 |
| And give it entrance in a braver heart.’ | |
| Then parts the lance: but Pallas’ heav’nly breath | |
| Far from Achilles wafts the winged death: | |
| The bidden dart again to Hector flies, | |
| And at the feet of its great master lies. | 510 |
| Achilles closes with his hated foe, | |
| His heart and eyes with flaming fury glow: | |
| But, present to his aid, Apollo shrouds | |
| The favour’d hero in a veil of clouds. | |
| Thrice struck Pelides with indignant heart, | 515 |
| Thrice in impassive air he plunged the dart: | |
| The spear a fourth time buried in the cloud, | |
| He foams with fury, and exclaims aloud: | |
| ‘Wretch! thou hast ’scaped again, once more thy flight | |
| Has saved thee, and the partial God of Light; | 520 |
| But long thou shalt not thy just Fate withstand, | |
| If any Power assist Achilles’ hand. | |
| Fly then inglorious; but thy flight this day | |
| Whole hecatombs of Trojan ghosts shall pay.’ | |
| With that he gluts his rage on numbers slain: | 525 |
| Then Dryops tumbled to th’ ensanguin’d plain | |
| Pierc’d thro’ the neck: he left him panting there, | |
| And stopp’d Demuchus, great Philetor’s heir, | |
| Gigantic Chief! deep gash’d th’ enormous blade, | |
| And for the soul an ample passage made. | 530 |
| Laogonus and Dardanus expire, | |
| The valiant sons of an unhappy sire; | |
| Both in one instant from the chariot hurl’d, | |
| Sunk in one instant to the nether world; | |
| This diff’rence only their sad fates afford, | 535 |
| That one the spear destroy’d, and one the sword. | |
| Nor less unpitied, young Alastor bleeds; | |
| In vain his youth, in vain his beauty pleads: | |
| In vain he begs thee, with a suppliant’s moan | |
| To spare a form and age so like thy own! | 540 |
| Unhappy boy! no prayer, no moving art | |
| E’er bent that fierce inexorable heart! | |
| While yet he trembled at his knees, and cried, | |
| The ruthless falchion oped his tender side; | |
| The panting liver pours a flood of gore, | 545 |
| That drowns his bosom till he pants no more. | |
| Thro’ Mulius’ head then drove th’ impetuous spear; | |
| The warrior falls transfix’d from ear to ear. | |
| Thy life, Echeclus! next the sword bereaves; | |
| Deep thro’ the front the pond’rous falchion cleaves; | 550 |
| Warm’d in the brain the smoking weapon lies, | |
| The purple death comes floating o’er his eyes. | |
| Then brave Deucalion died: the dart was flung | |
| Where the knit nerves the pliant elbow strung: | |
| He dropp’d his arm, an unassisting weight, | 555 |
| And stood all impotent expecting Fate: | |
| Full on his neck the falling falchion sped, | |
| From his broad shoulders hew’d his crested head: | |
| Forth from the bone the spinal marrow flies, | |
| And sunk in dust the corpse extended lies. | 560 |
| Rhigmus, whose race from fruitful Thracia came | |
| (The son of Pireus, an illustrious name), | |
| Succeeds to Fate: the spear his belly rends; | |
| Prone from his car the thund’ring Chief descends; | |
| The squire who saw expiring on the ground | 565 |
| His prostrate master, rein’d the steeds around. | |
| His back scarce turn’d, the Pelian jav’lin gored, | |
| And stretch’d the servant o’er his dying lord. | |
| As when a flame the winding valley fills, | |
| And runs on crackling shrubs between the hills; | 570 |
| Then o’er the stubble up the mountain flies, | |
| Fires the high woods, and blazes to the skies, | |
| This way and that the spreading torrent roars; | |
| So sweeps the hero thro’ the wasted shores: | |
| Around him wide immense destruction pours, | 575 |
| And earth is deluged with the sanguine showers. | |
| As with autumnal harvests cover’d o’er, | |
| And thick bestrown, lies Ceres’ sacred floor, | |
| When round and round, with never-wearied pain, | |
| The trampling steers beat out th’ unnumber’d grain: | 580 |
| So the fierce coursers, as the chariot rolls, | |
| Tread down whole ranks, and crush out heroes’ souls. | |
| Dash’d from their hoofs, while o’er the dead they fly, | |
| Black, bloody drops the smoking chariot dye: | |
| The spiky wheels thro’ heaps of carnage tore; | 585 |
| And thick the groaning axles dropp’d with gore. | |
| High o’er the scene of death Achilles stood, | |
| All grim with dust, all horrible in blood: | |
| Yet still insatiate, still with rage on flame; | |
| Such is the lust of never-dying Fame! | 590 |
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