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| author | Fudgerboy <91767657+Fudgerboy@users.noreply.github.com> | 2024-04-14 05:02:38 +0000 |
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| committer | Fudgerboy <91767657+Fudgerboy@users.noreply.github.com> | 2024-04-14 05:02:38 +0000 |
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diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/homer.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/homer.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf9060c --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/homer.txt @@ -0,0 +1,26176 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Iliad of Homer by Homer + + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no +restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under +the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or +online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license + + + +Title: The Iliad of Homer + +Author: Homer + +Release Date: September 2006 [Ebook #6130] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ILIAD OF HOMER*** + + + + + +The Iliad of Homer + + +Translated by Alexander Pope, + +with notes by the +Rev. Theodore Alois Buckley, M.A., F.S.A. + +and + +Flaxman's Designs. + +1899 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +INTRODUCTION. +POPE'S PREFACE TO THE ILIAD OF HOMER +BOOK I. +BOOK II. +BOOK III. +BOOK IV. +BOOK V. +BOOK VI. +BOOK VII. +BOOK VIII. +BOOK IX. +BOOK X. +BOOK XI. +BOOK XII. +BOOK XIII. +BOOK XIV. +BOOK XV. +BOOK XVI. +BOOK XVII. +BOOK XVIII. +BOOK XIX. +BOOK XX. +BOOK XXI. +BOOK XXII. +BOOK XXIII. +BOOK XXIV. +CONCLUDING NOTE. + + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +HOMER INVOKING THE MUSE. +MARS. +MINERVA REPRESSING THE FURY OF ACHILLES. +THE DEPARTURE OF BRISEIS FROM THE TENT OF ACHILLES. +THETIS CALLING BRIAREUS TO THE ASSISTANCE OF JUPITER. +THETIS ENTREATING JUPITER TO HONOUR ACHILLES. +VULCAN. +JUPITER. +THE APOTHEOSIS OF HOMER. +JUPITER SENDING THE EVIL DREAM TO AGAMEMNON. +NEPTUNE. +VENUS, DISGUISED, INVITING HELEN TO THE CHAMBER OF PARIS. +VENUS PRESENTING HELEN TO PARIS. +VENUS. +Map, titled "Graeciae Antiquae". +THE COUNCIL OF THE GODS. +Map of the Plain of Troy. +VENUS, WOUNDED IN THE HAND, CONDUCTED BY IRIS TO MARS. +OTUS AND EPHIALTES HOLDING MARS CAPTIVE. +DIOMED CASTING HIS SPEAR AT MARS. +JUNO. +HECTOR CHIDING PARIS. +THE MEETING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. +BOWS AND BOW CASE. +IRIS. +HECTOR AND AJAX SEPARATED BY THE HERALDS. +GREEK AMPHORA--WINE VESSELS. +JUNO AND MINERVA GOING TO ASSIST THE GREEKS. +THE HOURS TAKING THE HORSES FROM JUNO'S CAR. +THE SHIELD OF ACHILLES. +PLUTO. +THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES. +GREEK GALLEY. +PROSERPINE. +ACHILLES. +DIOMED AND ULYSSES RETURNING WITH THE SPOILS OF RHESUS. +THE DESCENT OF DISCORD. +HERCULES. +POLYDAMAS ADVISING HECTOR. +GREEK ALTAR. +NEPTUNE RISING FROM THE SEA. +GREEK EARRINGS. +SLEEP ESCAPING FROM THE WRATH OF JUPITER. +GREEK SHIELD. +BACCHUS. +AJAX DEFENDING THE GREEK SHIPS. +CASTOR AND POLLUX. +Buckles. +DIANA. +SLEEP AND DEATH CONVEYING THE BODY OF SARPEDON TO LYCIA. +AESCULAPIUS. +FIGHT FOR THE BODY OF PATROCLUS. +VULCAN FROM AN ANTIQUE GEM. +THETIS ORDERING THE NEREIDS TO DESCEND INTO THE SEA. +JUNO COMMANDING THE SUN TO SET. +TRIPOD. +THETIS AND EURYNOME RECEIVING THE INFANT VULCAN. +VULCAN AND CHARIS RECEIVING THETIS. +THETIS BRINGING THE ARMOUR TO ACHILLES. +HERCULES. +THE GODS DESCENDING TO BATTLE. +CENTAUR. +ACHILLES CONTENDING WITH THE RIVERS. +THE BATH. +ANDROMACHE FAINTING ON THE WALL. +THE FUNERAL PILE OF PATROCLUS. +CERES. +HECTOR'S BODY AT THE CAR OF ACHILLES. +THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS. +IRIS ADVISES PRIAM TO OBTAIN THE BODY OF HECTOR. +FUNERAL OF HECTOR. + + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +Scepticism is as much the result of knowledge, as knowledge is of +scepticism. To be content with what we at present know, is, for the most +part, to shut our ears against conviction; since, from the very gradual +character of our education, we must continually forget, and emancipate +ourselves from, knowledge previously acquired; we must set aside old +notions and embrace fresh ones; and, as we learn, we must be daily +unlearning something which it has cost us no small labour and anxiety to +acquire. + +And this difficulty attaches itself more closely to an age in which +progress has gained a strong ascendency over prejudice, and in which +persons and things are, day by day, finding their real level, in lieu of +their conventional value. The same principles which have swept away +traditional abuses, and which are making rapid havoc among the revenues of +sinecurists, and stripping the thin, tawdry veil from attractive +superstitions, are working as actively in literature as in society. The +credulity of one writer, or the partiality of another, finds as powerful a +touchstone and as wholesome a chastisement in the healthy scepticism of a +temperate class of antagonists, as the dreams of conservatism, or the +impostures of pluralist sinecures in the Church. History and tradition, +whether of ancient or comparatively recent times, are subjected to very +different handling from that which the indulgence or credulity of former +ages could allow. Mere statements are jealously watched, and the motives +of the writer form as important an ingredient in the analysis of his +history, as the facts he records. Probability is a powerful and +troublesome test; and it is by this troublesome standard that a large +portion of historical evidence is sifted. Consistency is no less +pertinacious and exacting in its demands. In brief, to write a history, we +must know more than mere facts. Human nature, viewed under an induction of +extended experience, is the best help to the criticism of human history. +Historical characters can only be estimated by the standard which human +experience, whether actual or traditionary, has furnished. To form correct +views of individuals we must regard them as forming parts of a great +whole--we must measure them by their relation to the mass of beings by whom +they are surrounded, and, in contemplating the incidents in their lives or +condition which tradition has handed down to us, we must rather consider +the general bearing of the whole narrative, than the respective +probability of its details. + +It is unfortunate for us, that, of some of the greatest men, we know +least, and talk most. Homer, Socrates, and Shakespere(1) have, perhaps, +contributed more to the intellectual enlightenment of mankind than any +other three writers who could be named, and yet the history of all three +has given rise to a boundless ocean of discussion, which has left us +little save the option of choosing which theory or theories we will +follow. The personality of Shakespere is, perhaps, the only thing in which +critics will allow us to believe without controversy; but upon everything +else, even down to the authorship of plays, there is more or less of doubt +and uncertainty. Of Socrates we know as little as the contradictions of +Plato and Xenophon will allow us to know. He was one of the _dramatis +personae_ in two dramas as unlike in principles as in style. He appears as +the enunciator of opinions as different in their tone as those of the +writers who have handed them down. When we have read Plato _or_ Xenophon, +we think we know something of Socrates; when we have fairly read and +examined both, we feel convinced that we are something worse than +ignorant. + +It has been an easy, and a popular expedient, of late years, to deny the +personal or real existence of men and things whose life and condition were +too much for our belief. This system--which has often comforted the +religious sceptic, and substituted the consolations of Strauss for those +of the New Testament--has been of incalculable value to the historical +theorists of the last and present centuries. To question the existence of +Alexander the Great, would be a more excusable act, than to believe in +that of Romulus. To deny a fact related in Herodotus, because it is +inconsistent with a theory developed from an Assyrian inscription which no +two scholars read in the same way, is more pardonable, than to believe in +the good-natured old king whom the elegant pen of Florian has +idealized--_Numa Pompilius._ + +Scepticism has attained its culminating point with respect to Homer, and +the state of our Homeric knowledge may be described as a free permission +to believe any theory, provided we throw overboard all written tradition, +concerning the author or authors of the Iliad and Odyssey. What few +authorities exist on the subject, are summarily dismissed, although the +arguments appear to run in a circle. "This cannot be true, because it is +not true; and, that is not true, because it cannot be true." Such seems to +be the style, in which testimony upon testimony, statement upon statement, +is consigned to denial and oblivion. + +It is, however, unfortunate that the professed biographies of Homer are +partly forgeries, partly freaks of ingenuity and imagination, in which +truth is the requisite most wanting. Before taking a brief review of the +Homeric theory in its present conditions, some notice must be taken of the +treatise on the Life of Homer which has been attributed to Herodotus. + +According to this document, the city of Cumae in AEolia, was, at an early +period, the seat of frequent immigrations from various parts of Greece. +Among the immigrants was Menapolus, the son of Ithagenes. Although poor, +he married, and the result of the union was a girl named Critheis. The +girl was left an orphan at an early age, under the guardianship of +Cleanax, of Argos. It is to the indiscretion of this maiden that we "are +indebted for so much happiness." Homer was the first fruit of her juvenile +frailty, and received the name of Melesigenes, from having been born near +the river Meles, in Boeotia, whither Critheis had been transported in +order to save her reputation. + +"At this time," continues our narrative, "there lived at Smyrna a man +named Phemius, a teacher of literature and music, who, not being married, +engaged Critheis to manage his household, and spin the flax he received as +the price of his scholastic labours. So satisfactory was her performance +of this task, and so modest her conduct, that he made proposals of +marriage, declaring himself, as a further inducement, willing to adopt her +son, who, he asserted, would become a clever man, if he were carefully +brought up." + +They were married; careful cultivation ripened the talents which nature +had bestowed, and Melesigenes soon surpassed his schoolfellows in every +attainment, and, when older, rivalled his preceptor in wisdom. Phemius +died, leaving him sole heir to his property, and his mother soon followed. +Melesigenes carried on his adopted father's school with great success, +exciting the admiration not only of the inhabitants of Smyrna, but also of +the strangers whom the trade carried on there, especially in the +exportation of corn, attracted to that city. Among these visitors, one +Mentes, from Leucadia, the modern Santa Maura, who evinced a knowledge and +intelligence rarely found in those times, persuaded Melesigenes to close +his school, and accompany him on his travels. He promised not only to pay +his expenses, but to furnish him with a further stipend, urging, that, +"While he was yet young, it was fitting that he should see with his own +eyes the countries and cities which might hereafter be the subjects of his +discourses." Melesigenes consented, and set out with his patron, +"examining all the curiosities of the countries they visited, and +informing himself of everything by interrogating those whom he met." We +may also suppose, that he wrote memoirs of all that he deemed worthy of +preservation(2) Having set sail from Tyrrhenia and Iberia, they reached +Ithaca. Here Melesigenes, who had already suffered in his eyes, became +much worse, and Mentes, who was about to leave for Leucadia, left him to +the medical superintendence of a friend of his, named Mentor, the son of +Alcinor. Under his hospitable and intelligent host, Melesigenes rapidly +became acquainted with the legends respecting Ulysses, which afterwards +formed the subject of the Odyssey. The inhabitants of Ithaca assert, that +it was here that Melesigenes became blind, but the Colophomans make their +city the seat of that misfortune. He then returned to Smyrna, where he +applied himself to the study of poetry.(3) + +But poverty soon drove him to Cumae. Having passed over the Hermaean +plain, he arrived at Neon Teichos, the New Wall, a colony of Cumae. Here +his misfortunes and poetical talent gained him the friendship of one +Tychias, an armourer. "And up to my time," continued the author, "the +inhabitants showed the place where he used to sit when giving a recitation +of his verses, and they greatly honoured the spot. Here also a poplar +grew, which they said had sprung up ever since Melesigenes arrived".(4) + +But poverty still drove him on, and he went by way of Larissa, as being +the most convenient road. Here, the Cumans say, he composed an epitaph on +Gordius, king of Phrygia, which has however, and with greater probability, +been attributed to Cleobulus of Lindus.(5) + +Arrived at Cumae, he frequented the _converzationes_(6) of the old men, +and delighted all by the charms of his poetry. Encouraged by this +favourable reception, he declared that, if they would allow him a public +maintenance, he would render their city most gloriously renowned. They +avowed their willingness to support him in the measure he proposed, and +procured him an audience in the council. Having made the speech, with the +purport of which our author has forgotten to acquaint us, he retired, and +left them to debate respecting the answer to be given to his proposal. + +The greater part of the assembly seemed favourable to the poet's demand, +but one man observed that "if they were to feed _Homers,_ they would be +encumbered with a multitude of useless people." "From this circumstance," +says the writer, "Melesigenes acquired the name of Homer, for the Cumans +call blind men _Homers._"(7) With a love of economy, which shows how +similar the world has always been in its treatment of literary men, the +pension was denied, and the poet vented his disappointment in a wish that +Cumoea might never produce a poet capable of giving it renown and glory. + +At Phocoea, Homer was destined to experience another literary distress. +One Thestorides, who aimed at the reputation of poetical genius, kept +Homer in his own house, and allowed him a pittance, on condition of the +verses of the poet passing in his name. Having collected sufficient poetry +to be profitable, Thestorides, like some would-be-literary publishers, +neglected the man whose brains he had sucked, and left him. At his +departure, Homer is said to have observed: "O Thestorides, of the many +things hidden from the knowledge of man, nothing is more unintelligible +than the human heart."(8) + +Homer continued his career of difficulty and distress, until some Chian +merchants, struck by the similarity of the verses they heard him recite, +acquainted him with the fact that Thestorides was pursuing a profitable +livelihood by the recital of the very same poems. This at once determined +him to set out for Chios. No vessel happened then to be setting sail +thither, but he found one ready to Start for Erythrae, a town of Ionia, +which faces that island, and he prevailed upon the seamen to allow him to +accompany them. Having embarked, he invoked a favourable wind, and prayed +that he might be able to expose the imposture of Thestorides, who, by his +breach of hospitality, had drawn down the wrath of Jove the Hospitable. + +At Erythrae, Homer fortunately met with a person who had known him in +Phocoea, by whose assistance he at length, after some difficulty, reached +the little hamlet of Pithys. Here he met with an adventure, which we will +continue in the words of our author. "Having set out from Pithys, Homer +went on, attracted by the cries of some goats that were pasturing. The +dogs barked on his approach, and he cried out. Glaucus (for that was the +name of the goat-herd) heard his voice, ran up quickly, called off his +dogs, and drove them away from Homer. For or some time he stood wondering +how a blind man should have reached such a place alone, and what could be +his design in coming. He then went up to him, and inquired who he was, and +how he had come to desolate places and untrodden spots, and of what he +stood in need. Homer, by recounting to him the whole history of his +misfortunes, moved him with compassion; and he took him, and led him to +his cot, and having lit a fire, bade him sup.(9) + +"The dogs, instead of eating, kept barking at the stranger, according to +their usual habit. Whereupon Homer addressed Glaucus thus: O Glaucus, my +friend, prythee attend to my behest. First give the dogs their supper at +the doors of the hut: for so it is better, since, whilst they watch, nor +thief nor wild beast will approach the fold. + +Glaucus was pleased with the advice, and marvelled at its author. Having +finished supper, they banqueted(10) afresh on conversation, Homer +narrating his wanderings, and telling of the cities he had visited. + +At length they retired to rest; but on the following morning, Glaucus +resolved to go to his master, and acquaint him with his meeting with +Homer. Having left the goats in charge of a fellow-servant, he left Homer +at home, promising to return quickly. Having arrived at Bolissus, a place +near the farm, and finding his mate, he told him the whole story +respecting Homer and his journey. He paid little attention to what he +said, and blamed Glaucus for his stupidity in taking in and feeding maimed +and enfeebled persons. However, he bade him bring the stranger to him. + +Glaucus told Homer what had taken place, and bade him follow him, assuring +him that good fortune would be the result. Conversation soon showed that +the stranger was a man of much cleverness and general knowledge, and the +Chian persuaded him to remain, and to undertake the charge of his +children.(11) + +Besides the satisfaction of driving the impostor Thestorides from the +island, Homer enjoyed considerable success as a teacher. In the town of +Chios he established a school where he taught the precepts of poetry. "To +this day," says Chandler,(12) "the most curious remain is that which has +been named, without reason, the School of Homer. It is on the coast, at +some distance from the city, northward, and appears to have been an open +temple of Cybele, formed on the top of a rock. The shape is oval, and in +the centre is the image of the goddess, the head and an arm wanting. She +is represented, as usual, sitting. The chair has a lion carved on each +side, and on the back. The area is bounded by a low rim, or seat, and +about five yards over. The whole is hewn out of the mountain, is rude, +indistinct, and probably of the most remote antiquity." + +So successful was this school, that Homer realised a considerable fortune. +He married, and had two daughters, one of whom died single, the other +married a Chian. + +The following passage betrays the same tendency to connect the personages +of the poems with the history of the poet, which has already been +mentioned:-- + +"In his poetical compositions Homer displays great gratitude towards +Mentor of Ithaca, in the Odyssey, whose name he has inserted in his poem +as the companion of Ulysses,(13) in return for the care taken of him when +afflicted with blindness. He also testifies his gratitude to Phemius, who +had given him both sustenance and instruction." + +His celebrity continued to increase, and many persons advised him to visit +Greece, whither his reputation had now extended. Having, it is said, made +some additions to his poems calculated to please the vanity of the +Athenians, of whose city he had hitherto made no mention,(14) he sent out +for Samos. Here being recognized by a Samian, who had met with him in +Chios, he was handsomely received, and invited to join in celebrating the +Apaturian festival. He recited some verses, which gave great satisfaction, +and by singing the Eiresione at the New Moon festivals, he earned a +subsistence, visiting the houses of the rich, with whose children he was +very popular. + +In the spring he sailed for Athens, and arrived at the island of Ios, now +Ino, where he fell extremely ill, and died. It is said that his death +arose from vexation, at not having been able to unravel an enigma proposed +by some fishermen's children.(15) + +Such is, in brief, the substance of the earliest life of Homer we possess, +and so broad are the evidences of its historical worthlessness, that it is +scarcely necessary to point them out in detail. Let us now consider some +of the opinions to which a persevering, patient, and learned--but by no +means consistent--series of investigations has led. In doing so, I profess +to bring forward statements, not to vouch for their reasonableness or +probability. + +"Homer appeared. The history of this poet and his works is lost in +doubtful obscurity, as is the history of many of the first minds who have +done honour to humanity, because they rose amidst darkness. The majestic +stream of his song, blessing and fertilizing, flows like the Nile, through +many lands and nations; and, like the sources of the Nile, its fountains +will ever remain concealed." + +Such are the words in which one of the most judicious German critics has +eloquently described the uncertainty in which the whole of the Homeric +question is involved. With no less truth and feeling he proceeds:-- + +"It seems here of chief importance to expect no more than the nature of +things makes possible. If the period of tradition in history is the region +of twilight, we should not expect in it perfect light. The creations of +genius always seem like miracles, because they are, for the most part, +created far out of the reach of observation. If we were in possession of +all the historical testimonies, we never could wholly explain the origin +of the Iliad and the Odyssey; for their origin, in all essential points, +must have remained the secret of the poet." (16) + +From this criticism, which shows as much insight into the depths of human +nature as into the minute wire-drawings of scholastic investigation, let +us pass on to the main question at issue. Was Homer an individual?(17) or +were the Iliad and Odyssey the result of an ingenious arrangement of +fragments by earlier poets? + +Well has Landor remarked: "Some tell us there were twenty Homers; some +deny that there was ever one. It were idle and foolish to shake the +contents of a vase, in order to let them settle at last. We are +perpetually labouring to destroy our delights, our composure, our devotion +to superior power. Of all the animals on earth we least know what is good +for us. My opinion is, that what is best for us is our admiration of good. +No man living venerates Homer more than I do." (18) + +But, greatly as we admire the generous enthusiasm which rests contented +with the poetry on which its best impulses had been nurtured and fostered, +without seeking to destroy the vividness of first impressions by minute +analysis--our editorial office compels us to give some attention to the +doubts and difficulties with which the Homeric question is beset, and to +entreat our reader, for a brief period, to prefer his judgment to his +imagination, and to condescend to dry details. + +Before, however, entering into particulars respecting the question of this +unity of the Homeric poems, (at least of the Iliad,) I must express my +sympathy with the sentiments expressed in the following remarks:-- + +"We cannot but think the universal admiration of its unity by the better, +the poetic age of Greece, almost conclusive testimony to its original +composition. It was not till the age of the grammarians that its primitive +integrity was called in question; nor is it injustice to assert, that the +minute and analytical spirit of a grammarian is not the best qualification +for the profound feeling, the comprehensive conception of an harmonious +whole. The most exquisite anatomist may be no judge of the symmetry of the +human frame: and we would take the opinion of Chantrey or Westmacott on +the proportions and general beauty of a form, rather than that of Mr. +Brodie or Sir Astley Cooper. + +"There is some truth, though some malicious exaggeration, in the lines of +Pope.-- + + "'The critic eye--that microscope of wit + Sees hairs and pores, examines bit by bit, + How parts relate to parts, or they to whole + The body's harmony, the beaming soul, + Are things which Kuster, Burmann, Wasse, shall see, + When man's whole frame is obvious to a flea.'"(19) + +Long was the time which elapsed before any one dreamt of questioning the +unity of the authorship of the Homeric poems. The grave and cautious +Thucydides quoted without hesitation the Hymn to Apollo,(20) the +authenticity of which has been already disclaimed by modern critics. +Longinus, in an oft quoted passage, merely expressed an opinion touching +the comparative inferiority of the Odyssey to the Iliad,(21) and, among a +mass of ancient authors, whose very names(22) it would be tedious to +detail, no suspicion of the personal non-existence of Homer ever arose. So +far, the voice of antiquity seems to be in favour of our early ideas on +the subject; let us now see what are the discoveries to which more modern +investigations lay claim. + +At the end of the seventeenth century, doubts had begun to awaken on the +subject, and we find Bentley remarking that "Homer wrote a sequel of songs +and rhapsodies, to be sung by himself, for small comings and good cheer, +at festivals and other days of merriment. These loose songs were not +collected together, in the form of an epic poem, till about Peisistratus' +time, about five hundred years after."(23) + +Two French writers--Hedelin and Perrault--avowed a similar scepticism on the +subject; but it is in the "Scienza Nuova" of Battista Vico, that we first +meet with the germ of the theory, subsequently defended by Wolf with so +much learning and acuteness. Indeed, it is with the Wolfian theory that we +have chiefly to deal, and with the following bold hypothesis, which we +will detail in the words of Grote(24)-- + +"Half a century ago, the acute and valuable Prolegomena of F. A. Wolf, +turning to account the Venetian Scholia, which had then been recently +published, first opened philosophical discussion as to the history of the +Homeric text. A considerable part of that dissertation (though by no means +the whole) is employed in vindicating the position, previously announced +by Bentley, amongst others, that the separate constituent portions of the +Iliad and Odyssey had not been cemented together into any compact body and +unchangeable order, until the days of Peisistratus, in the sixth century +before Christ. As a step towards that conclusion, Wolf maintained that no +written copies of either poem could be shown to have existed during the +earlier times, to which their composition is referred; and that without +writing, neither the perfect symmetry of so complicated a work could have +been originally conceived by any poet, nor, if realized by him, +transmitted with assurance to posterity. The absence of easy and +convenient writing, such as must be indispensably supposed for long +manuscripts, among the early Greeks, was thus one of the points in Wolf's +case against the primitive integrity of the Iliad and Odyssey. By Nitzsch, +and other leading opponents of Wolf, the connection of the one with the +other seems to have been accepted as he originally put it; and it has been +considered incumbent on those who defended the ancient aggregate character +of the Iliad and Odyssey, to maintain that they were written poems from +the beginning. + +"To me it appears, that the architectonic functions ascribed by Wolf to +Peisistratus and his associates, in reference to the Homeric poems, are +nowise admissible. But much would undoubtedly be gained towards that view +of the question, if it could be shown, that, in order to controvert it, we +were driven to the necessity of admitting long written poems, in the ninth +century before the Christian aera. Few things, in my opinion, can be more +improbable; and Mr. Payne Knight, opposed as he is to the Wolfian +hypothesis, admits this no less than Wolf himself. The traces of writing +in Greece, even in the seventh century before the Christian aera, are +exceedingly trifling. We have no remaining inscription earlier than the +fortieth Olympiad, and the early inscriptions are rude and unskilfully +executed; nor can we even assure ourselves whether Archilochus, Simonides +of Amorgus, Kallinus, Tyrtaeus, Xanthus, and the other early elegiac and +lyric poets, committed their compositions to writing, or at what time the +practice of doing so became familiar. The first positive ground which +authorizes us to presume the existence of a manuscript of Homer, is in the +famous ordinance of Solon, with regard to the rhapsodies at the +Panathenaea: but for what length of time previously manuscripts had +existed, we are unable to say. + +"Those who maintain the Homeric poems to have been written from the +beginning, rest their case, not upon positive proofs, nor yet upon the +existing habits of society with regard to poetry--for they admit generally +that the Iliad and Odyssey were not read, but recited and heard,--but upon +the supposed necessity that there must have been manuscripts to ensure the +preservation of the poems--the unassisted memory of reciters being neither +sufficient nor trustworthy. But here we only escape a smaller difficulty +by running into a greater; for the existence of trained bards, gifted with +extraordinary memory, (25) is far less astonishing than that of long +manuscripts, in an age essentially non-reading and non-writing, and when +even suitable instruments and materials for the process are not obvious. +Moreover, there is a strong positive reason for believing that the bard +was under no necessity of refreshing his memory by consulting a +manuscript; for if such had been the fact, blindness would have been a +disqualification for the profession, which we know that it was not, as +well from the example of Demodokus, in the Odyssey, as from that of the +blind bard of Chios, in the Hymn to the Delian Apollo, whom Thucydides, as +well as the general tenor of Grecian legend, identifies with Homer +himself. The author of that hymn, be he who he may, could never have +described a blind man as attaining the utmost perfection in his art, if he +had been conscious that the memory of the bard was only maintained by +constant reference to the manuscript in his chest." + +The loss of the digamma, that _crux_ of critics, that quicksand upon which +even the acumen of Bentley was shipwrecked, seems to prove beyond a doubt, +that the pronunciation of the Greek language had undergone a considerable +change. Now it is certainly difficult to suppose that the Homeric poems +could have suffered by this change, had written copies been preserved. If +Chaucer's poetry, for instance, had not been written, it could only have +come down to us in a softened form, more like the effeminate version of +Dryden, than the rough, quaint, noble original. + +"At what period," continues Grote, "these poems, or indeed any other Greek +poems, first began to be written, must be matter of conjecture, though +there is ground for assurance that it was before the time of Solon. If, in +the absence of evidence, we may venture upon naming any more determinate +period, the question a once suggests itself, What were the purposes which, +in that state of society, a manuscript at its first commencement must have +been intended to answer? For whom was a written Iliad necessary? Not for +the rhapsodes; for with them it was not only planted in the memory, but +also interwoven with the feelings, and conceived in conjunction with all +those flexions and intonations of voice, pauses, and other oral artifices +which were required for emphatic delivery, and which the naked manuscript +could never reproduce. Not for the general public--they were accustomed to +receive it with its rhapsodic delivery, and with its accompaniments of a +solemn and crowded festival. The only persons for whom the written Iliad +would be suitable would be a select few; studious and curious men; a class +of readers capable of analyzing the complicated emotions which they had +experienced as hearers in the crowd, and who would, on perusing the +written words, realize in their imaginations a sensible portion of the +impression communicated by the reciter. Incredible as the statement may +seem in an age like the present, there is in all early societies, and +there was in early Greece, a time when no such reading class existed. If +we could discover at what time such a class first began to be formed, we +should be able to make a guess at the time when the old epic poems were +first committed to writing. Now the period which may with the greatest +probability be fixed upon as having first witnessed the formation even of +the narrowest reading class in Greece, is the middle of the seventh +century before the Christian aera (B.C. 660 to B.C. 630), the age of +Terpander, Kallinus, Archilochus, Simonides of Amorgus, &c. I ground this +supposition on the change then operated in the character and tendencies of +Grecian poetry and music--the elegiac and the iambic measures having been +introduced as rivals to the primitive hexameter, and poetical compositions +having been transferred from the epical past to the affairs of present and +real life. Such a change was important at a time when poetry was the only +known mode of publication (to use a modern phrase not altogether suitable, +yet the nearest approaching to the sense). It argued a new way of looking +at the old epical treasures of the people as well as a thirst for new +poetical effect; and the men who stood forward in it, may well be +considered as desirous to study, and competent to criticize, from their +own individual point of view, the written words of the Homeric rhapsodies, +just as we are told that Kallinus both noticed and eulogized the Thebais +as the production of Homer. There seems, therefore, ground for +conjecturing that (for the use of this newly-formed and important, but +very narrow class), manuscripts of the Homeric poems and other old +epics,--the Thebais and the Cypria, as well as the Iliad and the +Odyssey,--began to be compiled towards the middle of the seventh century +(B.C. 1); and the opening of Egypt to Grecian commerce, which took place +about the same period, would furnish increased facilities for obtaining +the requisite papyrus to write upon. A reading class, when once formed, +would doubtless slowly increase, and the number of manuscripts along with +it; so that before the time of Solon, fifty years afterwards, both readers +and manuscripts, though still comparatively few, might have attained a +certain recognized authority, and formed a tribunal of reference against +the carelessness of individual rhapsodes."(26) + +But even Peisistratus has not been suffered to remain in possession of the +credit, and we cannot help feeling the force of the following +observations-- + + + "There are several incidental circumstances which, in our opinion, + throw some suspicion over the whole history of the Peisistratid + compilation, at least over the theory, that the Iliad was cast + into its present stately and harmonious form by the directions of + the Athenian ruler. If the great poets, who flourished at the + bright period of Grecian song, of which, alas! we have inherited + little more than the fame, and the faint echo, if Stesichorus, + Anacreon, and Simonides were employed in the noble task of + compiling the Iliad and Odyssey, so much must have been done to + arrange, to connect, to harmonize, that it is almost incredible, + that stronger marks of Athenian manufacture should not remain. + Whatever occasional anomalies may be detected, anomalies which no + doubt arise out of our own ignorance of the language of the + Homeric age, however the irregular use of the digamma may have + perplexed our Bentleys, to whom the name of Helen is said to have + caused as much disquiet and distress as the fair one herself among + the heroes of her age, however Mr. Knight may have failed in + reducing the Homeric language to its primitive form; however, + finally, the Attic dialect may not have assumed all its more + marked and distinguishing characteristics--still it is difficult to + suppose that the language, particularly in the joinings and + transitions, and connecting parts, should not more clearly betray + the incongruity between the more ancient and modern forms of + expression. It is not quite in character with such a period to + imitate an antique style, in order to piece out an imperfect poem + in the character of the original, as Sir Walter Scott has done in + his continuation of Sir Tristram. + + "If, however, not even such faint and indistinct traces of + Athenian compilation are discoverable in the language of the + poems, the total absence of Athenian national feeling is perhaps + no less worthy of observation. In later, and it may fairly be + suspected in earlier times, the Athenians were more than + ordinarily jealous of the fame of their ancestors. But, amid all + the traditions of the glories of early Greece embodied in the + Iliad, the Athenians play a most subordinate and insignificant + part. Even the few passages which relate to their ancestors, Mr. + Knight suspects to be interpolations. It is possible, indeed, that + in its leading outline, the Iliad may be true to historic fact, + that in the great maritime expedition of western Greece against + the rival and half-kindred empire of the Laomedontiadae, the + chieftain of Thessaly, from his valour and the number of his + forces, may have been the most important ally of the Peloponnesian + sovereign; the preeminent value of the ancient poetry on the + Trojan war may thus have forced the national feeling of the + Athenians to yield to their taste. The songs which spoke of their + own great ancestor were, no doubt, of far inferior sublimity and + popularity, or, at first sight, a Theseid would have been much + more likely to have emanated from an Athenian synod of compilers + of ancient song, than an Achilleid or an Olysseid. Could France + have given birth to a Tasso, Tancred would have been the hero of + the Jerusalem. If, however, the Homeric ballads, as they are + sometimes called, which related the wrath of Achilles, with all + its direful consequences, were so far superior to the rest of the + poetic cycle, as to admit no rivalry,--it is still surprising, that + throughout the whole poem the _callida junctura_ should never + betray the workmanship of an Athenian hand, and that the national + spirit of a race, who have at a later period not inaptly been + compared to our self admiring neighbours, the French, should + submit with lofty self denial to the almost total exclusion of + their own ancestors--or, at least, to the questionable dignity of + only having produced a leader tolerably skilled in the military + tactics of his age."(27) + + +To return to the Wolfian theory. While it is to be confessed, that Wolf's +objections to the primitive integrity of the Iliad and Odyssey have never +been wholly got over, we cannot help discovering that they have failed to +enlighten us as to any substantial point, and that the difficulties with +which the whole subject is beset, are rather augmented than otherwise, if +we admit his hypothesis. Nor is Lachmann's(28) modification of his theory +any better. He divides the first twenty-two books of the Iliad into +sixteen different songs, and treats as ridiculous the belief that their +amalgamation into one regular poem belongs to a period earlier than the +age of Peisistratus. This, as Grote observes, "explains the gaps and +contradictions in the narrative, but it explains nothing else." Moreover, +we find no contradictions warranting this belief, and the so-called +sixteen poets concur in getting rid of the following leading men in the +first battle after the secession of Achilles: Elphenor, chief of the +Euboeans; Tlepolemus, of the Rhodians; Pandarus, of the Lycians; Odius, of +the Halizonians; Pirous and Acamas, of the Thracians. None of these heroes +again make their appearance, and we can but agree with Colonel Mure, that +"it seems strange that any number of independent poets should have so +harmoniously dispensed with the services of all six in the sequel." The +discrepancy, by which Pylaemenes, who is represented as dead in the fifth +book, weeps at his son's funeral in the thirteenth, can only be regarded +as the result of an interpolation. + +Grote, although not very distinct in stating his own opinions on the +subject, has done much to clearly show the incongruity of the Wolfian +theory, and of Lachmann's modifications with the character of +Peisistratus. But he has also shown, and we think with equal success, that +the two questions relative to the primitive unity of these poems, or, +supposing that impossible, the unison of these parts by Peisistratus, and +not before his time, are essentially distinct. In short, "a man may +believe the Iliad to have been put together out of pre-existing songs, +without recognising the age of Peisistratus as the period of its first +compilation." The friends or literary _employes_ of Peisistratus must have +found an Iliad that was already ancient, and the silence of the +Alexandrine critics respecting the Peisistratic "recension," goes far to +prove, that, among the numerous manuscripts they examined, this was either +wanting, or thought unworthy of attention. + +"Moreover," he continues, "the whole tenor of the poems themselves +confirms what is here remarked. There is nothing, either in the Iliad or +Odyssey, which savours of modernism, applying that term to the age of +Peisistratus--nothing which brings to our view the alterations brought +about by two centuries, in the Greek language, the coined money, the +habits of writing and reading, the despotisms and republican governments, +the close military array, the improved construction of ships, the +Amphiktyonic convocations, the mutual frequentation of religious +festivals, the Oriental and Egyptian veins of religion, &c., familiar to +the latter epoch. These alterations Onomakritus, and the other literary +friends of Peisistratus, could hardly have failed to notice, even without +design, had they then, for the first time, undertaken the task of piecing +together many self existent epics into one large aggregate. Everything in +the two great Homeric poems, both in substance and in language, belongs to +an age two or three centuries earlier than Peisistratus. Indeed, even the +interpolations (or those passages which, on the best grounds, are +pronounced to be such) betray no trace of the sixth century before Christ, +and may well have been heard by Archilochus and Kallinus--in some cases +even by Arktinus and Hesiod--as genuine Homeric matter(29) As far as the +evidences on the case, as well internal as external, enable us to judge, +we seem warranted in believing that the Iliad and Odyssey were recited +substantially as they now stand (always allowing for paitial divergences +of text and interpolations) in 776 B.C., our first trustworthy mark of +Grecian time; and this ancient date, let it be added, as it is the +best-authenticated fact, so it is also the most important attribute of the +Homeric poems, considered in reference to Grecian history; for they thus +afford us an insight into the anti-historical character of the Greeks, +enabling us to trace the subsequent forward march of the nation, and to +seize instructive contrasts between their former and their later +condition."(30) + +On the whole, I am inclined to believe, that the labours of Peisistratus +were wholly of an editorial character, although, I must confess, that I +can lay down nothing respecting the extent of his labours. At the same +time, so far from believing that the composition or primary arrangement of +these poems, in their present form, was the work of Peisistratus, I am +rather persuaded that the fine taste and elegant mind of that Athenian(31) +would lead him to preserve an ancient and traditional order of the poems, +rather than to patch and re-construct them according to a fanciful +hypothesis. I will not repeat the many discussions respecting whether the +poems were written or not, or whether the art of writing was known in the +time of their reputed author. Suffice it to say, that the more we read, +the less satisfied we are upon either subject. + +I cannot, however, help thinking, that the story which attributes the +preservation of these poems to Lycurgus, is little else than a version of +the same story as that of Peisistratus, while its historical probability +must be measured by that of many others relating to the Spartan Confucius. + +I will conclude this sketch of the Homeric theories, with an attempt, made +by an ingenious friend, to unite them into something like consistency. It +is as follows:-- + + + "No doubt the common soldiers of that age had, like the common + sailors of some fifty years ago, some one qualified to 'discourse + in excellent music' among them. Many of these, like those of the + negroes in the United States, were extemporaneous, and allusive to + events passing around them. But what was passing around them? The + grand events of a spirit-stirring war; occurrences likely to + impress themselves, as the mystical legends of former times had + done, upon their memory; besides which, a retentive memory was + deemed a virtue of the first water, and was cultivated accordingly + in those ancient times. Ballads at first, and down to the + beginning of the war with Troy, were merely recitations, with an + intonation. Then followed a species of recitative, probably with + an intoned burden. Tune next followed, as it aided the memory + considerably. + + "It was at this period, about four hundred years after the war, + that a poet flourished of the name of Melesigenes, or Moeonides, + but most probably the former. He saw that these ballads might be + made of great utility to his purpose of writing a poem on the + social position of Hellas, and, as a collection, he published + these lays, connecting them by a tale of his own. This poem now + exists, under the title of the 'Odyssea.' The author, however, did + not affix his own name to the poem, which, in fact, was, great + part of it, remodelled from the archaic dialect of Crete, in which + tongue the ballads were found by him. He therefore called it the + poem of Homeros, or the Collector; but this is rather a proof of + his modesty and talent, than of his mere drudging arrangement of + other people's ideas; for, as Grote has finely observed, arguing + for the unity of authorship, 'a great poet might have re-cast + pre-existing separate songs into one comprehensive whole; but no + mere arrangers or compilers would be competent to do so.' + + "While employed on the wild legend of Odysseus, he met with a + ballad, recording the quarrel of Achilles and Agamemnon. His noble + mind seized the hint that there presented itself, and the + Achilleis(32) grew under his hand. Unity of design, however, + caused him to publish the poem under the same pseudonyme as his + former work: and the disjointed lays of the ancient bards were + joined together, like those relating to the Cid, into a chronicle + history, named the Iliad. Melesigenes knew that the poem was + destined to be a lasting one, and so it has proved; but, first, + the poems were destined to undergo many vicissitudes and + corruptions, by the people who took to singing them in the + streets, assemblies, and agoras. However, Solon first, and then + Peisistratus, and afterwards Aristoteles and others, revised the + poems, and restored the works of Melesigenes Homeros to their + original integrity in a great measure."(33) + + +Having thus given some general notion of the strange theories which have +developed themselves respecting this most interesting subject, I must +still express my conviction as to the unity of the authorship of the +Homeric poems. To deny that many corruptions and interpolations disfigure +them, and that the intrusive hand of the poetasters may here and there +have inflicted a wound more serious than the negligence of the copyist, +would be an absurd and captious assumption, but it is to a higher +criticism that we must appeal, if we would either understand or enjoy +these poems. In maintaining the authenticity and personality of their one +author, be he Homer or Melesigenes, _quocunque nomine vocari eum jus +fasque sit,_ I feel conscious that, while the whole weight of historical +evidence is against the hypothesis which would assign these great works to +a plurality of authors, the most powerful internal evidence, and that +which springs from the deepest and most immediate impulse of the soul, +also speaks eloquently to the contrary. + +The minutiae of verbal criticism I am far from seeking to despise. Indeed, +considering the character of some of my own books, such an attempt would +be gross inconsistency. But, while I appreciate its importance in a +philological view, I am inclined to set little store on its aesthetic +value, especially in poetry. Three parts of the emendations made upon +poets are mere alterations, some of which, had they been suggested to the +author by his Maecenas or Africanus, he would probably have adopted. +Moreover, those who are most exact in laying down rules of verbal +criticism and interpretation, are often least competent to carry out their +own precepts. Grammarians are not poets by profession, but may be so _per +accidens._ I do not at this moment remember two emendations on Homer, +calculated to substantially improve the poetry of a passage, although a +mass of remarks, from Herodotus down to Loewe, have given us the history +of a thousand minute points, without which our Greek knowledge would be +gloomy and jejune. + +But it is not on words only that grammarians, mere grammarians, will +exercise their elaborate and often tiresome ingenuity. Binding down an +heroic or dramatic poet to the block upon which they have previously +dissected his words and sentences, they proceed to use the axe and the +pruning knife by wholesale, and inconsistent in everything but their wish +to make out a case of unlawful affiliation, they cut out book after book, +passage after passage, till the author is reduced to a collection of +fragments, or till those, who fancied they possessed the works of some +great man, find that they have been put off with a vile counterfeit got up +at second hand. If we compare the theories of Knight, Wolf, Lachmann, and +others, we shall feel better satisfied of the utter uncertainty of +criticism than of the apocryphal position of Homer. One rejects what +another considers the turning-point of his theory. One cuts a supposed +knot by expunging what another would explain by omitting something else. + +Nor is this morbid species of sagacity by any means to be looked upon as a +literary novelty. Justus Lipsius, a scholar of no ordinary skill, seems to +revel in the imaginary discovery, that the tragedies attributed to Seneca +are by _four_ different authors.(34) Now, I will venture to assert, that +these tragedies are so uniform, not only in their borrowed phraseology--a +phraseology with which writers like Boethius and Saxo Grammaticus were +more charmed than ourselves--in their freedom from real poetry, and last, +but not least, in an ultra-refined and consistent abandonment of good +taste, that few writers of the present day would question the capabilities +of the same gentleman, be he Seneca or not, to produce not only these, but +a great many more equally bad. With equal sagacity, Father Hardouin +astonished the world with the startling announcement that the AEneid of +Virgil, and the satires of Horace, were literary deceptions. Now, without +wishing to say one word of disrespect against the industry and +learning--nay, the refined acuteness--which scholars, like Wolf, have +bestowed upon this subject, I must express my fears, that many of our +modern Homeric theories will become matter for the surprise and +entertainment, rather than the instruction, of posterity. Nor can I help +thinking, that the literary history of more recent times will account for +many points of difficulty in the transmission of the Iliad and Odyssey to +a period so remote from that of their first creation. + +I have already expressed my belief that the labours of Peisistratus were +of a purely editorial character; and there seems no more reason why +corrupt and imperfect editions of Homer may not have been abroad in his +day, than that the poems of Valerius Flaccus and Tibullus should have +given so much trouble to Poggio, Scaliger, and others. But, after all, the +main fault in all the Homeric theories is, that they demand too great a +sacrifice of those feelings to which poetry most powerfully appeals, and +which are its most fitting judges. The ingenuity which has sought to rob +us of the name and existence of Homer, does too much violence to that +inward emotion, which makes our whole soul yearn with love and admiration +for the blind bard of Chios. To believe the author of the Iliad a mere +compiler, is to degrade the powers of human invention; to elevate +analytical judgment at the expense of the most ennobling impulses of the +soul; and to forget the ocean in the contemplation of a polypus. There is +a catholicity, so to speak, in the very name of Homer. Our faith in the +author of the Iliad may be a mistaken one, but as yet nobody has taught us +a better. + +While, however, I look upon the belief in Homer as one that has nature +herself for its mainspring; while I can join with old Ennius in believing +in Homer as the ghost, who, like some patron saint, hovers round the bed +of the poet, and even bestows rare gifts from that wealth of imagination +which a host of imitators could not exhaust,--still I am far from wishing +to deny that the author of these great poems found a rich fund of +tradition, a well-stocked mythical storehouse from whence he might derive +both subject and embellishment. But it is one thing to _use_ existing +romances in the embellishment of a poem, another to patch up the poem +itself from such materials. What consistency of style and execution can be +hoped for from such an attempt? or, rather, what bad taste and tedium will +not be the infallible result? + +A blending of popular legends, and a free use of the songs of other bards, +are features perfectly consistent with poetical originality. In fact, the +most original writer is still drawing upon outward impressions--nay, even +his own thoughts are a kind of secondary agents which support and feed the +impulses of imagination. But unless there be some grand pervading +principle--some invisible, yet most distinctly stamped archetypus of the +great whole, a poem like the Iliad can never come to the birth. Traditions +the most picturesque, episodes the most pathetic, local associations +teeming with the thoughts of gods and great men, may crowd in one mighty +vision, or reveal themselves in more substantial forms to the mind of the +poet; but, except the power to create a grand whole, to which these shall +be but as details and embellishments, be present, we shall have nought but +a scrap-book, a parterre filled with flowers and weeds strangling each +other in their wild redundancy: we shall have a cento of rags and tatters, +which will require little acuteness to detect. + +Sensible as I am of the difficulty of disproving a negative, and aware as +I must be of the weighty grounds there are for opposing my belief, it +still seems to me that the Homeric question is one that is reserved for a +higher criticism than it has often obtained. We are not by nature intended +to know all things; still less, to compass the powers by which the +greatest blessings of life have been placed at our disposal. Were faith no +virtue, then we might indeed wonder why God willed our ignorance on any +matter. But we are too well taught the contrary lesson; and it seems as +though our faith should be especially tried touching the men and the +events which have wrought most influence upon the condition of humanity. +And there is a kind of sacredness attached to the memory of the great and +the good, which seems to bid us repulse the scepticism which would +allegorize their existence into a pleasing apologue, and measure the +giants of intellect by an homeopathic dynameter. + +Long and habitual reading of Homer appears to familiarize our thoughts +even to his incongruities; or rather, if we read in a right spirit and +with a heartfelt appreciation, we are too much dazzled, too deeply wrapped +in admiration of the whole, to dwell upon the minute spots which mere +analysis can discover. In reading an heroic poem we must transform +ourselves into heroes of the time being, we in imagination must fight over +the same battles, woo the same loves, burn with the same sense of injury, +as an Achilles or a Hector. And if we can but attain this degree of +enthusiasm (and less enthusiasm will scarcely suffice for the reading of +Homer), we shall feel that the poems of Homer are not only the work of one +writer, but of the greatest writer that ever touched the hearts of men by +the power of song. + +And it was this supposed unity of authorship which gave these poems their +powerful influence over the minds of the men of old. Heeren, who is +evidently little disposed in favour of modern theories, finely observes:-- + + + "It was Homer who formed the character of the Greek nation. No + poet has ever, as a poet, exercised a similar influence over his + countrymen. Prophets, lawgivers, and sages have formed the + character of other nations; it was reserved to a poet to form that + of the Greeks. This is a feature in their character which was not + wholly erased even in the period of their degeneracy. When + lawgivers and sages appeared in Greece, the work of the poet had + already been accomplished; and they paid homage to his superior + genius. He held up before his nation the mirror, in which they + were to behold the world of gods and heroes no less than of feeble + mortals, and to behold them reflected with purity and truth. His + poems are founded on the first feeling of human nature; on the + love of children, wife, and country; on that passion which + outweighs all others, the love of glory. His songs were poured + forth from a breast which sympathized with all the feelings of + man; and therefore they enter, and will continue to enter, every + breast which cherishes the same sympathies. If it is granted to + his immortal spirit, from another heaven than any of which he + dreamed on earth, to look down on his race, to see the nations + from the fields of Asia to the forests of Hercynia, performing + pilgrimages to the fountain which his magic wand caused to flow; + if it is permitted to him to view the vast assemblage of grand, of + elevated, of glorious productions, which had been called into + being by means of his songs; wherever his immortal spirit may + reside, this alone would suffice to complete his happiness."(35) + + +Can we contemplate that ancient monument, on which the "Apotheosis of +Homer"(36) is depictured, and not feel how much of pleasing association, +how much that appeals most forcibly and most distinctly to our minds, is +lost by the admittance of any theory but our old tradition? The more we +read, and the more we think--think as becomes the readers of Homer,--the +more rooted becomes the conviction that the Father of Poetry gave us this +rich inheritance, whole and entire. Whatever were the means of its +preservation, let us rather be thankful for the treasury of taste and +eloquence thus laid open to our use, than seek to make it a mere centre +around which to drive a series of theories, whose wildness is only +equalled by their inconsistency with each other. + +As the hymns, and some other poems usually ascribed to Homer, are not +included in Pope's translation, I will content myself with a brief account +of the Battle of the Frogs and Mice, from the pen of a writer who has done +it full justice(37):-- + + + "This poem," says Coleridge, "is a short mock-heroic of ancient + date. The text varies in different editions, and is obviously + disturbed and corrupt to a great degree; it is commonly said to + have been a juvenile essay of Homer's genius; others have + attributed it to the same Pigrees, mentioned above, and whose + reputation for humour seems to have invited the appropriation of + any piece of ancient wit, the author of which was uncertain; so + little did the Greeks, before the age of the Ptolemies, know or + care about that department of criticism employed in determining + the genuineness of ancient writings. As to this little poem being + a youthful prolusion of Homer, it seems sufficient to say that + from the beginning to the end it is a plain and palpable parody, + not only of the general spirit, but of the numerous passages of + the Iliad itself; and even, if no such intention to parody were + discernible in it, the objection would still remain, that to + suppose a work of mere burlesque to be the primary effort of + poetry in a simple age, seems to reverse that order in the + development of national taste, which the history of every other + people in Europe, and of many in Asia, has almost ascertained to + be a law of the human mind; it is in a state of society much more + refined and permanent than that described in the Iliad, that any + popularity would attend such a ridicule of war and the gods as is + contained in this poem; and the fact of there having existed three + other poems of the same kind attributed, for aught we can see, + with as much reason to Homer, is a strong inducement to believe + that none of them were of the Homeric age. Knight infers from the + usage of the word deltos, "writing tablet," instead of diphthera, + "skin," which, according to Herod. 5, 58, was the material + employed by the Asiatic Greeks for that purpose, that this poem + was another offspring of Attic ingenuity; and generally that the + familiar mention of the cock (v. 191) is a strong argument against + so ancient a date for its composition." + + +Having thus given a brief account of the poems comprised in Pope's design, +I will now proceed to make a few remarks on his translation, and on my own +purpose in the present edition. + +Pope was not a Grecian. His whole education had been irregular, and his +earliest acquaintance with the poet was through the version of Ogilby. It +is not too much to say that his whole work bears the impress of a +disposition to be satisfied with the general sense, rather than to dive +deeply into the minute and delicate features of language. Hence his whole +work is to be looked upon rather as an elegant paraphrase than a +translation. There are, to be sure, certain conventional anecdotes, which +prove that Pope consulted various friends, whose classical attainments +were sounder than his own, during the undertaking; but it is probable that +these examinations were the result rather of the contradictory versions +already existing, than of a desire to make a perfect transcript of the +original. And in those days, what is called literal translation was less +cultivated than at present. If something like the general sense could be +decorated with the easy gracefulness of a practised poet; if the charms of +metrical cadence and a pleasing fluency could be made consistent with a +fair interpretation of the poet's meaning, his _words_ were less jealously +sought for, and those who could read so good a poem as Pope's Iliad had +fair reason to be satisfied. + +It would be absurd, therefore, to test Pope's translation by our own +advancing knowledge of the original text. We must be content to look at it +as a most delightful work in itself,--a work which is as much a part of +English literature as Homer himself is of Greek. We must not be torn from +our kindly associations with the old Iliad, that once was our most +cherished companion, or our most looked-for prize, merely because +Buttmann, Loewe, and Liddell have made us so much more accurate as to +amphikupellon being an adjective, and not a substantive. Far be it from us +to defend the faults of Pope, especially when we think of Chapman's fine, +bold, rough old English;--far be it from, us to hold up his translation as +what a translation of Homer _might_ be. But we can still dismiss Pope's +Iliad to the hands of our readers, with the consciousness that they must +have read a very great number of books before they have read its fellow. + +As to the Notes accompanying the present volume, they are drawn up without +pretension, and mainly with the view of helping the general reader. Having +some little time since translated all the works of Homer for another +publisher, I might have brought a large amount of accumulated matter, +sometimes of a critical character, to bear upon the text. But Pope's +version was no field for such a display; and my purpose was to touch +briefly on antiquarian or mythological allusions, to notice occasionally +_some_ departures from the original, and to give a few parallel passages +from our English Homer, Milton. In the latter task I cannot pretend to +novelty, but I trust that my other annotations, while utterly disclaiming +high scholastic views, will be found to convey as much as is wanted; at +least, as far as the necessary limits of these volumes could be expected +to admit. To write a commentary on Homer is not my present aim; but if I +have made Pope's translation a little more entertaining and instructive to +a mass of miscellaneous readers, I shall consider my wishes satisfactorily +accomplished. + + THEODORE ALOIS BUCKLEY. + +_Christ Church._ + + + + + +POPE'S PREFACE TO THE ILIAD OF HOMER + + +Homer is universally allowed to have had the greatest invention of any +writer whatever. The praise of judgment Virgil has justly contested with +him, and others may have their pretensions as to particular excellences; +but his invention remains yet unrivalled. Nor is it a wonder if he has +ever been acknowledged the greatest of poets, who most excelled in that +which is the very foundation of poetry. It is the invention that, in +different degrees, distinguishes all great geniuses: the utmost stretch of +human study, learning, and industry, which masters everything besides, can +never attain to this. It furnishes art with all her materials, and without +it judgment itself can at best but "steal wisely:" for art is only like a +prudent steward that lives on managing the riches of nature. Whatever +praises may be given to works of judgment, there is not even a single +beauty in them to which the invention must not contribute: as in the most +regular gardens, art can only reduce beauties of nature to more +regularity, and such a figure, which the common eye may better take in, +and is, therefore, more entertained with. And, perhaps, the reason why +common critics are inclined to prefer a judicious and methodical genius to +a great and fruitful one, is, because they find it easier for themselves +to pursue their observations through a uniform and bounded walk of art, +than to comprehend the vast and various extent of nature. + +Our author's work is a wild paradise, where, if we cannot see all the +beauties so distinctly as in an ordered garden, it is only because the +number of them is infinitely greater. It is like a copious nursery, which +contains the seeds and first productions of every kind, out of which those +who followed him have but selected some particular plants, each according +to his fancy, to cultivate and beautify. If some things are too luxuriant +it is owing to the richness of the soil; and if others are not arrived to +perfection or maturity, it is only because they are overrun and oppressed +by those of a stronger nature. + +It is to the strength of this amazing invention we are to attribute that +unequalled fire and rapture which is so forcible in Homer, that no man of +a true poetical spirit is master of himself while he reads him. What he +writes is of the most animated nature imaginable; every thing moves, every +thing lives, and is put in action. If a council be called, or a battle +fought, you are not coldly informed of what was said or done as from a +third person; the reader is hurried out of himself by the force of the +poet's imagination, and turns in one place to a hearer, in another to a +spectator. The course of his verses resembles that of the army he +describes, + + Hoid' ar' isan hosei te puri chthon pasa nemoito. + +"They pour along like a fire that sweeps the whole earth before it." It +is, however, remarkable, that his fancy, which is everywhere vigorous, is +not discovered immediately at the beginning of his poem in its fullest +splendour: it grows in the progress both upon himself and others, and +becomes on fire, like a chariot-wheel, by its own rapidity. Exact +disposition, just thought, correct elocution, polished numbers, may have +been found in a thousand; but this poetic fire, this "vivida vis animi," +in a very few. Even in works where all those are imperfect or neglected, +this can overpower criticism, and make us admire even while we disapprove. +Nay, where this appears, though attended with absurdities, it brightens +all the rubbish about it, till we see nothing but its own splendour. This +fire is discerned in Virgil, but discerned as through a glass, reflected +from Homer, more shining than fierce, but everywhere equal and constant: +in Lucan and Statius it bursts out in sudden, short, and interrupted +flashes: In Milton it glows like a furnace kept up to an uncommon ardour +by the force of art: in Shakspeare it strikes before we are aware, like an +accidental fire from heaven: but in Homer, and in him only, it burns +everywhere clearly and everywhere irresistibly. + +I shall here endeavour to show how this vast invention exerts itself in a +manner superior to that of any poet through all the main constituent parts +of his work: as it is the great and peculiar characteristic which +distinguishes him from all other authors. + +This strong and ruling faculty was like a powerful star, which, in the +violence of its course, drew all things within its vortex. It seemed not +enough to have taken in the whole circle of arts, and the whole compass of +nature, to supply his maxims and reflections; all the inward passions and +affections of mankind, to furnish his characters: and all the outward +forms and images of things for his descriptions: but wanting yet an ampler +sphere to expatiate in, he opened a new and boundless walk for his +imagination, and created a world for himself in the invention of fable. +That which Aristotle calls "the soul of poetry," was first breathed into +it by Homer, I shall begin with considering him in his part, as it is +naturally the first; and I speak of it both as it means the design of a +poem, and as it is taken for fiction. + +Fable may be divided into the probable, the allegorical, and the +marvellous. The probable fable is the recital of such actions as, though +they did not happen, yet might, in the common course of nature; or of such +as, though they did, became fables by the additional episodes and manner +of telling them. Of this sort is the main story of an epic poem, "The +return of Ulysses, the settlement of the Trojans in Italy," or the like. +That of the Iliad is the "anger of Achilles," the most short and single +subject that ever was chosen by any poet. Yet this he has supplied with a +vaster variety of incidents and events, and crowded with a greater number +of councils, speeches, battles, and episodes of all kinds, than are to be +found even in those poems whose schemes are of the utmost latitude and +irregularity. The action is hurried on with the most vehement spirit, and +its whole duration employs not so much as fifty days. Virgil, for want of +so warm a genius, aided himself by taking in a more extensive subject, as +well as a greater length of time, and contracting the design of both +Homer's poems into one, which is yet but a fourth part as large as his. +The other epic poets have used the same practice, but generally carried it +so far as to superinduce a multiplicity of fables, destroy the unity of +action, and lose their readers in an unreasonable length of time. Nor is +it only in the main design that they have been unable to add to his +invention, but they have followed him in every episode and part of story. +If he has given a regular catalogue of an army, they all draw up their +forces in the same order. If he has funeral games for Patroclus, Virgil +has the same for Anchises, and Statius (rather than omit them) destroys +the unity of his actions for those of Archemorus. If Ulysses visit the +shades, the AEneas of Virgil and Scipio of Silius are sent after him. If he +be detained from his return by the allurements of Calypso, so is AEneas by +Dido, and Rinaldo by Armida. If Achilles be absent from the army on the +score of a quarrel through half the poem, Rinaldo must absent himself just +as long on the like account. If he gives his hero a suit of celestial +armour, Virgil and Tasso make the same present to theirs. Virgil has not +only observed this close imitation of Homer, but, where he had not led the +way, supplied the want from other Greek authors. Thus the story of Sinon, +and the taking of Troy, was copied (says Macrobius) almost word for word +from Pisander, as the loves of Dido and AEneas are taken from those of +Medea and Jason in Apollonius, and several others in the same manner. + +To proceed to the allegorical fable--If we reflect upon those innumerable +knowledges, those secrets of nature and physical philosophy which Homer is +generally supposed to have wrapped up in his allegories, what a new and +ample scene of wonder may this consideration afford us! How fertile will +that imagination appear, which as able to clothe all the properties of +elements, the qualifications of the mind, the virtues and vices, in forms +and persons, and to introduce them into actions agreeable to the nature of +the things they shadowed! This is a field in which no succeeding poets +could dispute with Homer, and whatever commendations have been allowed +them on this head, are by no means for their invention in having enlarged +his circle, but for their judgment in having contracted it. For when the +mode of learning changed in the following ages, and science was delivered +in a plainer manner, it then became as reasonable in the more modern poets +to lay it aside, as it was in Homer to make use of it. And perhaps it was +no unhappy circumstance for Virgil, that there was not in his time that +demand upon him of so great an invention as might be capable of furnishing +all those allegorical parts of a poem. + +The marvellous fable includes whatever is supernatural, and especially the +machines of the gods. If Homer was not the first who introduced the +deities (as Herodotus imagines) into the religion of Greece, he seems the +first who brought them into a system of machinery for poetry, and such a +one as makes its greatest importance and dignity: for we find those +authors who have been offended at the literal notion of the gods, +constantly laying their accusation against Homer as the chief support of +it. But whatever cause there might be to blame his machines in a +philosophical or religious view, they are so perfect in the poetic, that +mankind have been ever since contented to follow them: none have been able +to enlarge the sphere of poetry beyond the limits he has set: every +attempt of this nature has proved unsuccessful; and after all the various +changes of times and religions, his gods continue to this day the gods of +poetry. + +We come now to the characters of his persons; and here we shall find no +author has ever drawn so many, with so visible and surprising a variety, +or given us such lively and affecting impressions of them. Every one has +something so singularly his own, that no painter could have distinguished +them more by their features, than the poet has by their manners. Nothing +can be more exact than the distinctions he has observed in the different +degrees of virtues and vices. The single quality of courage is wonderfully +diversified in the several characters of the Iliad. That of Achilles is +furious and intractable; that of Diomede forward, yet listening to advice, +and subject to command; that of Ajax is heavy and self-confiding; of +Hector, active and vigilant: the courage of Agamemnon is inspirited by +love of empire and ambition; that of Menelaus mixed with softness and +tenderness for his people: we find in Idomeneus a plain direct soldier; in +Sarpedon a gallant and generous one. Nor is this judicious and astonishing +diversity to be found only in the principal quality which constitutes the +main of each character, but even in the under parts of it, to which he +takes care to give a tincture of that principal one. For example: the main +characters of Ulysses and Nestor consist in wisdom; and they are distinct +in this, that the wisdom of one is artificial and various, of the other +natural, open, and regular. But they have, besides, characters of courage; +and this quality also takes a different turn in each from the difference +of his prudence; for one in the war depends still upon caution, the other +upon experience. It would be endless to produce instances of these kinds. +The characters of Virgil are far from striking us in this open manner; +they lie, in a great degree, hidden and undistinguished; and, where they +are marked most evidently affect us not in proportion to those of Homer. +His characters of valour are much alike; even that of Turnus seems no way +peculiar, but, as it is, in a superior degree; and we see nothing that +differences the courage of Mnestheus from that of Sergestus, Cloanthus, or +the rest, In like manner it may be remarked of Statius's heroes, that an +air of impetuosity runs through them all; the same horrid and savage +courage appears in his Capaneus, Tydeus, Hippomedon, &c. They have a +parity of character, which makes them seem brothers of one family. I +believe when the reader is led into this tract of reflection, if he will +pursue it through the epic and tragic writers, he will be convinced how +infinitely superior, in this point, the invention of Homer was to that of +all others. + +The speeches are to be considered as they flow from the characters; being +perfect or defective as they agree or disagree with the manners, of those +who utter them. As there is more variety of characters in the Iliad, so +there is of speeches, than in any other poem. "Everything in it has +manner" (as Aristotle expresses it), that is, everything is acted or +spoken. It is hardly credible, in a work of such length, how small a +number of lines are employed in narration. In Virgil the dramatic part is +less in proportion to the narrative, and the speeches often consist of +general reflections or thoughts, which might be equally just in any +person's mouth upon the same occasion. As many of his persons have no +apparent characters, so many of his speeches escape being applied and +judged by the rule of propriety. We oftener think of the author himself +when we read Virgil, than when we are engaged in Homer, all which are the +effects of a colder invention, that interests us less in the action +described. Homer makes us hearers, and Virgil leaves us readers. + +If, in the next place, we take a view of the sentiments, the same +presiding faculty is eminent in the sublimity and spirit of his thoughts. +Longinus has given his opinion, that it was in this part Homer principally +excelled. What were alone sufficient to prove the grandeur and excellence +of his sentiments in general, is, that they have so remarkable a parity +with those of the Scripture. Duport, in his Gnomologia Homerica, has +collected innumerable instances of this sort. And it is with justice an +excellent modern writer allows, that if Virgil has not so many thoughts +that are low and vulgar, he has not so many that are sublime and noble; +and that the Roman author seldom rises into very astonishing sentiments +where he is not fired by the Iliad. + +If we observe his descriptions, images, and similes, we shall find the +invention still predominant. To what else can we ascribe that vast +comprehension of images of every sort, where we see each circumstance of +art, and individual of nature, summoned together by the extent and +fecundity of his imagination to which all things, in their various views +presented themselves in an instant, and had their impressions taken off to +perfection at a heat? Nay, he not only gives us the full prospects of +things, but several unexpected peculiarities and side views, unobserved by +any painter but Homer. Nothing is so surprising as the descriptions of his +battles, which take up no less than half the Iliad, and are supplied with +so vast a variety of incidents, that no one bears a likeness to another; +such different kinds of deaths, that no two heroes are wounded in the same +manner, and such a profusion of noble ideas, that every battle rises above +the last in greatness, horror, and confusion. It is certain there is not +near that number of images and descriptions in any epic poet, though every +one has assisted himself with a great quantity out of him; and it is +evident of Virgil especially, that he has scarce any comparisons which are +not drawn from his master. + +If we descend from hence to the expression, we see the bright imagination +of Homer shining out in the most enlivened forms of it. We acknowledge him +the father of poetical diction; the first who taught that "language of the +gods" to men. His expression is like the colouring of some great masters, +which discovers itself to be laid on boldly, and executed with rapidity. +It is, indeed, the strongest and most glowing imaginable, and touched with +the greatest spirit. Aristotle had reason to say, he was the only poet who +had found out "living words;" there are in him more daring figures and +metaphors than in any good author whatever. An arrow is "impatient" to be +on the wing, a weapon "thirsts" to drink the blood of an enemy, and the +like, yet his expression is never too big for the sense, but justly great +in proportion to it. It is the sentiment that swells and fills out the +diction, which rises with it, and forms itself about it, for in the same +degree that a thought is warmer, an expression will be brighter, as that +is more strong, this will become more perspicuous; like glass in the +furnace, which grows to a greater magnitude, and refines to a greater +clearness, only as the breath within is more powerful, and the heat more +intense. + +To throw his language more out of prose, Homer seems to have affected the +compound epithets. This was a sort of composition peculiarly proper to +poetry, not only as it heightened the diction, but as it assisted and +filled the numbers with greater sound and pomp, and likewise conduced in +some measure to thicken the images. On this last consideration I cannot +but attribute these also to the fruitfulness of his invention, since (as +he has managed them) they are a sort of supernumerary pictures of the +persons or things to which they were joined. We see the motion of Hector's +plumes in the epithet Korythaiolos, the landscape of Mount Neritus in that +of Einosiphyllos, and so of others, which particular images could not have +been insisted upon so long as to express them in a description (though but +of a single line) without diverting the reader too much from the principal +action or figure. As a metaphor is a short simile, one of these epithets +is a short description. + +Lastly, if we consider his versification, we shall be sensible what a +share of praise is due to his invention in that also. He was not satisfied +with his language as he found it settled in any one part of Greece, but +searched through its different dialects with this particular view, to +beautify and perfect his numbers he considered these as they had a greater +mixture of vowels or consonants, and accordingly employed them as the +verse required either a greater smoothness or strength. What he most +affected was the Ionic, which has a peculiar sweetness, from its never +using contractions, and from its custom of resolving the diphthongs into +two syllables, so as to make the words open themselves with a more +spreading and sonorous fluency. With this he mingled the Attic +contractions, the broader Doric, and the feebler AEolic, which often +rejects its aspirate, or takes off its accent, and completed this variety +by altering some letters with the licence of poetry. Thus his measures, +instead of being fetters to his sense, were always in readiness to run +along with the warmth of his rapture, and even to give a further +representation of his notions, in the correspondence of their sounds to +what they signified. Out of all these he has derived that harmony which +makes us confess he had not only the richest head, but the finest ear in +the world. This is so great a truth, that whoever will but consult the +tune of his verses, even without understanding them (with the same sort of +diligence as we daily see practised in the case of Italian operas), will +find more sweetness, variety, and majesty of sound, than in any other +language of poetry. The beauty of his numbers is allowed by the critics to +be copied but faintly by Virgil himself, though they are so just as to +ascribe it to the nature of the Latin tongue: indeed the Greek has some +advantages both from the natural sound of its words, and the turn and +cadence of its verse, which agree with the genius of no other language. +Virgil was very sensible of this, and used the utmost diligence in working +up a more intractable language to whatsoever graces it was capable of, +and, in particular, never failed to bring the sound of his line to a +beautiful agreement with its sense. If the Grecian poet has not been so +frequently celebrated on this account as the Roman, the only reason is, +that fewer critics have understood one language than the other. Dionysius +of Halicarnassus has pointed out many of our author's beauties in this +kind, in his treatise of the Composition of Words. It suffices at present +to observe of his numbers, that they flow with so much ease, as to make +one imagine Homer had no other care than to transcribe as fast as the +Muses dictated, and, at the same time, with so much force and inspiriting +vigour, that they awaken and raise us like the sound of a trumpet. They +roll along as a plentiful river, always in motion, and always full; while +we are borne away by a tide of verse, the most rapid, and yet the most +smooth imaginable. + +Thus on whatever side we contemplate Homer, what principally strikes us is +his invention. It is that which forms the character of each part of his +work; and accordingly we find it to have made his fable more extensive and +copious than any other, his manners more lively and strongly marked, his +speeches more affecting and transported, his sentiments more warm and +sublime, his images and descriptions more full and animated, his +expression more raised and daring, and his numbers more rapid and various. +I hope, in what has been said of Virgil, with regard to any of these +heads, I have no way derogated from his character. Nothing is more absurd +or endless, than the common method of comparing eminent writers by an +opposition of particular passages in them, and forming a judgment from +thence of their merit upon the whole. We ought to have a certain knowledge +of the principal character and distinguishing excellence of each: it is in +that we are to consider him, and in proportion to his degree in that we +are to admire him. No author or man ever excelled all the world in more +than one faculty; and as Homer has done this in invention, Virgil has in +judgment. Not that we are to think that Homer wanted judgment, because +Virgil had it in a more eminent degree; or that Virgil wanted invention, +because Homer possessed a larger share of it; each of these great authors +had more of both than perhaps any man besides, and are only said to have +less in comparison with one another. Homer was the greater genius, Virgil +the better artist. In one we most admire the man, in the other the work. +Homer hurries and transports us with a commanding impetuosity; Virgil +leads us with an attractive majesty; Homer scatters with a generous +profusion; Virgil bestows with a careful magnificence; Homer, like the +Nile, pours out his riches with a boundless overflow; Virgil, like a river +in its banks, with a gentle and constant stream. When we behold their +battles, methinks the two poets resemble the heroes they celebrate. Homer, +boundless and resistless as Achilles, bears all before him, and shines +more and more as the tumult increases; Virgil, calmly daring, like AEneas, +appears undisturbed in the midst of the action; disposes all about him, +and conquers with tranquillity. And when we look upon their machines, +Homer seems like his own Jupiter in his terrors, shaking Olympus, +scattering the lightnings, and firing the heavens: Virgil, like the same +power in his benevolence, counselling with the gods, laying plans for +empires, and regularly ordering his whole creation. + +But after all, it is with great parts, as with great virtues, they +naturally border on some imperfection; and it is often hard to distinguish +exactly where the virtue ends, or the fault begins. As prudence may +sometimes sink to suspicion, so may a great judgment decline to coldness; +and as magnanimity may run up to profusion or extravagance, so may a great +invention to redundancy or wildness. If we look upon Homer in this view, +we shall perceive the chief objections against him to proceed from so +noble a cause as the excess of this faculty. + +Among these we may reckon some of his marvellous fictions, upon which so +much criticism has been spent, as surpassing all the bounds of +probability. Perhaps it may be with great and superior souls, as with +gigantic bodies, which, exerting themselves with unusual strength, exceed +what is commonly thought the due proportion of parts, to become miracles +in the whole; and, like the old heroes of that make, commit something near +extravagance, amidst a series of glorious and inimitable performances. +Thus Homer has his "speaking horses;" and Virgil his "myrtles distilling +blood;" where the latter has not so much as contrived the easy +intervention of a deity to save the probability. + +It is owing to the same vast invention, that his similes have been thought +too exuberant and full of circumstances. The force of this faculty is seen +in nothing more, than in its inability to confine itself to that single +circumstance upon which the comparison is grounded: it runs out into +embellishments of additional images, which, however, are so managed as not +to overpower the main one. His similes are like pictures, where the +principal figure has not only its proportion given agreeable to the +original, but is also set off with occasional ornaments and prospects. The +same will account for his manner of heaping a number of comparisons +together in one breath, when his fancy suggested to him at once so many +various and correspondent images. The reader will easily extend this +observation to more objections of the same kind. + +If there are others which seem rather to charge him with a defect or +narrowness of genius, than an excess of it, those seeming defects will be +found upon examination to proceed wholly from the nature of the times he +lived in. Such are his grosser representations of the gods; and the +vicious and imperfect manners of his heroes; but I must here speak a word +of the latter, as it is a point generally carried into extremes, both by +the censurers and defenders of Homer. It must be a strange partiality to +antiquity, to think with Madame Dacier,(38) "that those times and manners +are so much the more excellent, as they are more contrary to ours." Who +can be so prejudiced in their favour as to magnify the felicity of those +ages, when a spirit of revenge and cruelty, joined with the practice of +rapine and robbery, reigned through the world: when no mercy was shown but +for the sake of lucre; when the greatest princes were put to the sword, +and their wives and daughters made slaves and concubines? On the other +side, I would not be so delicate as those modern critics, who are shocked +at the servile offices and mean employments in which we sometimes see the +heroes of Homer engaged. There is a pleasure in taking a view of that +simplicity, in opposition to the luxury of succeeding ages: in beholding +monarchs without their guards; princes tending their flocks, and +princesses drawing water from the springs. When we read Homer, we ought to +reflect that we are reading the most ancient author in the heathen world; +and those who consider him in this light, will double their pleasure in +the perusal of him. Let them think they are growing acquainted with +nations and people that are now no more; that they are stepping almost +three thousand years back into the remotest antiquity, and entertaining +themselves with a clear and surprising vision of things nowhere else to be +found, the only true mirror of that ancient world. By this means alone +their greatest obstacles will vanish; and what usually creates their +dislike, will become a satisfaction. + +This consideration may further serve to answer for the constant use of the +same epithets to his gods and heroes; such as the "far-darting Phoebus," +the "blue-eyed Pallas," the "swift-footed Achilles," &c., which some have +censured as impertinent, and tediously repeated. Those of the gods +depended upon the powers and offices then believed to belong to them; and +had contracted a weight and veneration from the rites and solemn devotions +in which they were used: they were a sort of attributes with which it was +a matter of religion to salute them on all occasions, and which it was an +irreverence to omit. As for the epithets of great men, Mons. Boileau is of +opinion, that they were in the nature of surnames, and repeated as such; +for the Greeks having no names derived from their fathers, were obliged to +add some other distinction of each person; either naming his parents +expressly, or his place of birth, profession, or the like: as Alexander +the son of Philip, Herodotus of Halicarnassus, Diogenes the Cynic, &c. +Homer, therefore, complying with the custom of his country, used such +distinctive additions as better agreed with poetry. And, indeed, we have +something parallel to these in modern times, such as the names of Harold +Harefoot, Edmund Ironside, Edward Longshanks, Edward the Black Prince, &c. +If yet this be thought to account better for the propriety than for the +repetition, I shall add a further conjecture. Hesiod, dividing the world +into its different ages, has placed a fourth age, between the brazen and +the iron one, of "heroes distinct from other men; a divine race who fought +at Thebes and Troy, are called demi-gods, and live by the care of Jupiter +in the islands of the blessed." Now among the divine honours which were +paid them, they might have this also in common with the gods, not to be +mentioned without the solemnity of an epithet, and such as might be +acceptable to them by celebrating their families, actions or qualities. + +What other cavils have been raised against Homer, are such as hardly +deserve a reply, but will yet be taken notice of as they occur in the +course of the work. Many have been occasioned by an injudicious endeavour +to exalt Virgil; which is much the same, as if one should think to raise +the superstructure by undermining the foundation: one would imagine, by +the whole course of their parallels, that these critics never so much as +heard of Homer's having written first; a consideration which whoever +compares these two poets ought to have always in his eye. Some accuse him +for the same things which they overlook or praise in the other; as when +they prefer the fable and moral of the AEneis to those of the Iliad, for +the same reasons which might set the Odyssey above the AEneis; as that the +hero is a wiser man, and the action of the one more beneficial to his +country than that of the other; or else they blame him for not doing what +he never designed; as because Achilles is not as good and perfect a prince +as AEneas, when the very moral of his poem required a contrary character: +it is thus that Rapin judges in his comparison of Homer and Virgil. Others +select those particular passages of Homer which are not so laboured as +some that Virgil drew out of them: this is the whole management of +Scaliger in his Poetics. Others quarrel with what they take for low and +mean expressions, sometimes through a false delicacy and refinement, +oftener from an ignorance of the graces of the original, and then triumph +in the awkwardness of their own translations: this is the conduct of +Perrault in his Parallels. Lastly, there are others, who, pretending to a +fairer proceeding, distinguish between the personal merit of Homer, and +that of his work; but when they come to assign the causes of the great +reputation of the Iliad, they found it upon the ignorance of his times, +and the prejudice of those that followed: and in pursuance of this +principle, they make those accidents (such as the contention of the +cities, &c.) to be the causes of his fame, which were in reality the +consequences of his merit. The same might as well be said of Virgil, or +any great author whose general character will infallibly raise many casual +additions to their reputation. This is the method of Mons. de la Mott; who +yet confesses upon the whole that in whatever age Homer had lived, he must +have been the greatest poet of his nation, and that he may be said in his +sense to be the master even of those who surpassed him.(39) + +In all these objections we see nothing that contradicts his title to the +honour of the chief invention: and as long as this (which is indeed the +characteristic of poetry itself) remains unequalled by his followers, he +still continues superior to them. A cooler judgment may commit fewer +faults, and be more approved in the eyes of one sort of critics: but that +warmth of fancy will carry the loudest and most universal applauses which +holds the heart of a reader under the strongest enchantment. Homer not +only appears the inventor of poetry, but excels all the inventors of other +arts, in this, that he has swallowed up the honour of those who succeeded +him. What he has done admitted no increase, it only left room for +contraction or regulation. He showed all the stretch of fancy at once; and +if he has failed in some of his flights, it was but because he attempted +everything. A work of this kind seems like a mighty tree, which rises from +the most vigorous seed, is improved with industry, flourishes, and +produces the finest fruit: nature and art conspire to raise it; pleasure +and profit join to make it valuable: and they who find the justest faults, +have only said that a few branches which run luxuriant through a richness +of nature, might be lopped into form to give it a more regular appearance. + +Having now spoken of the beauties and defects of the original, it remains +to treat of the translation, with the same view to the chief +characteristic. As far as that is seen in the main parts of the poem, such +as the fable, manners, and sentiments, no translator can prejudice it but +by wilful omissions or contractions. As it also breaks out in every +particular image, description, and simile, whoever lessens or too much +softens those, takes off from this chief character. It is the first grand +duty of an interpreter to give his author entire and unmaimed; and for the +rest, the diction and versification only are his proper province, since +these must be his own, but the others he is to take as he finds them. + +It should then be considered what methods may afford some equivalent in +our language for the graces of these in the Greek. It is certain no +literal translation can be just to an excellent original in a superior +language: but it is a great mistake to imagine (as many have done) that a +rash paraphrase can make amends for this general defect; which is no less +in danger to lose the spirit of an ancient, by deviating into the modern +manners of expression. If there be sometimes a darkness, there is often a +light in antiquity, which nothing better preserves than a version almost +literal. I know no liberties one ought to take, but those which are +necessary to transfusing the spirit of the original, and supporting the +poetical style of the translation: and I will venture to say, there have +not been more men misled in former times by a servile, dull adherence to +the letter, than have been deluded in ours by a chimerical, insolent hope +of raising and improving their author. It is not to be doubted, that the +fire of the poem is what a translator should principally regard, as it is +most likely to expire in his managing: however, it is his safest way to be +content with preserving this to his utmost in the whole, without +endeavouring to be more than he finds his author is, in any particular +place. It is a great secret in writing, to know when to be plain, and when +poetical and figurative; and it is what Homer will teach us, if we will +but follow modestly in his footsteps. Where his diction is bold and lofty, +let us raise ours as high as we can; but where his is plain and humble, we +ought not to be deterred from imitating him by the fear of incurring the +censure of a mere English critic. Nothing that belongs to Homer seems to +have been more commonly mistaken than the just pitch of his style: some of +his translators having swelled into fustian in a proud confidence of the +sublime; others sunk into flatness, in a cold and timorous notion of +simplicity. Methinks I see these different followers of Homer, some +sweating and straining after him by violent leaps and bounds (the certain +signs of false mettle), others slowly and servilely creeping in his train, +while the poet himself is all the time proceeding with an unaffected and +equal majesty before them. However, of the two extremes one could sooner +pardon frenzy than frigidity; no author is to be envied for such +commendations, as he may gain by that character of style, which his +friends must agree together to call simplicity, and the rest of the world +will call dulness. There is a graceful and dignified simplicity, as well +as a bold and sordid one; which differ as much from each other as the air +of a plain man from that of a sloven: it is one thing to be tricked up, +and another not to be dressed at all. Simplicity is the mean between +ostentation and rusticity. + +This pure and noble simplicity is nowhere in such perfection as in the +Scripture and our author. One may affirm, with all respect to the inspired +writings, that the Divine Spirit made use of no other words but what were +intelligible and common to men at that time, and in that part of the +world; and, as Homer is the author nearest to those, his style must of +course bear a greater resemblance to the sacred books than that of any +other writer. This consideration (together with what has been observed of +the parity of some of his thoughts) may, methinks, induce a translator, on +the one hand, to give in to several of those general phrases and manners +of expression, which have attained a veneration even in our language from +being used in the Old Testament; as, on the other, to avoid those which +have been appropriated to the Divinity, and in a manner consigned to +mystery and religion. + +For a further preservation of this air of simplicity, a particular care +should be taken to express with all plainness those moral sentences and +proverbial speeches which are so numerous in this poet. They have +something venerable, and as I may say, oracular, in that unadorned gravity +and shortness with which they are delivered: a grace which would be +utterly lost by endeavouring to give them what we call a more ingenious +(that is, a more modern) turn in the paraphrase. + +Perhaps the mixture of some Graecisms and old words after the manner of +Milton, if done without too much affectation, might not have an ill effect +in a version of this particular work, which most of any other seems to +require a venerable, antique cast. But certainly the use of modern terms +of war and government, such as "platoon, campaign, junto," or the like, +(into which some of his translators have fallen) cannot be allowable; +those only excepted without which it is impossible to treat the subjects +in any living language. + +There are two peculiarities in Homer's diction, which are a sort of marks +or moles by which every common eye distinguishes him at first sight; those +who are not his greatest admirers look upon them as defects, and those who +are, seemed pleased with them as beauties. I speak of his compound +epithets, and of his repetitions. Many of the former cannot be done +literally into English without destroying the purity of our language. I +believe such should be retained as slide easily of themselves into an +English compound, without violence to the ear or to the received rules of +composition, as well as those which have received a sanction from the +authority of our best poets, and are become familiar through their use of +them; such as "the cloud-compelling Jove," &c. As for the rest, whenever +any can be as fully and significantly expressed in a single word as in a +compounded one, the course to be taken is obvious. + +Some that cannot be so turned, as to preserve their full image by one or +two words, may have justice done them by circumlocution; as the epithet +einosiphyllos to a mountain, would appear little or ridiculous translated +literally "leaf-shaking," but affords a majestic idea in the periphrasis: +"the lofty mountain shakes his waving woods." Others that admit of +different significations, may receive an advantage from a judicious +variation, according to the occasions on which they are introduced. For +example, the epithet of Apollo, hekaebolos or "far-shooting," is capable +of two explications; one literal, in respect of the darts and bow, the +ensigns of that god; the other allegorical, with regard to the rays of the +sun; therefore, in such places where Apollo is represented as a god in +person, I would use the former interpretation; and where the effects of +the sun are described, I would make choice of the latter. Upon the whole, +it will be necessary to avoid that perpetual repetition of the same +epithets which we find in Homer, and which, though it might be +accommodated (as has been already shown) to the ear of those times, is by +no means so to ours: but one may wait for opportunities of placing them, +where they derive an additional beauty from the occasions on which they +are employed; and in doing this properly, a translator may at once show +his fancy and his judgment. + +As for Homer's repetitions, we may divide them into three sorts: of whole +narrations and speeches, of single sentences, and of one verse or +hemistitch. I hope it is not impossible to have such a regard to these, as +neither to lose so known a mark of the author on the one hand, nor to +offend the reader too much on the other. The repetition is not ungraceful +in those speeches, where the dignity of the speaker renders it a sort of +insolence to alter his words; as in the messages from gods to men, or from +higher powers to inferiors in concerns of state, or where the ceremonial +of religion seems to require it, in the solemn forms of prayers, oaths, or +the like. In other cases, I believe the best rule is, to be guided by the +nearness, or distance, at which the repetitions are placed in the +original: when they follow too close, one may vary the expression; but it +is a question, whether a professed translator be authorized to omit any: +if they be tedious, the author is to answer for it. + +It only remains to speak of the versification. Homer (as has been said) is +perpetually applying the sound to the sense, and varying it on every new +subject. This is indeed one of the most exquisite beauties of poetry, and +attainable by very few: I only know of Homer eminent for it in the Greek, +and Virgil in the Latin. I am sensible it is what may sometimes happen by +chance, when a writer is warm, and fully possessed of his image: however, +it may reasonably be believed they designed this, in whose verse it so +manifestly appears in a superior degree to all others. Few readers have +the ear to be judges of it: but those who have, will see I have +endeavoured at this beauty. + +Upon the whole, I must confess myself utterly incapable of doing justice +to Homer. I attempt him in no other hope but that which one may entertain +without much vanity, of giving a more tolerable copy of him than any +entire translation in verse has yet done. We have only those of Chapman, +Hobbes, and Ogilby. Chapman has taken the advantage of an immeasurable +length of verse, notwithstanding which, there is scarce any paraphrase +more loose and rambling than his. He has frequent interpolations of four +or six lines; and I remember one in the thirteenth book of the Odyssey, +ver. 312, where he has spun twenty verses out of two. He is often mistaken +in so bold a manner, that one might think he deviated on purpose, if he +did not in other places of his notes insist so much upon verbal trifles. +He appears to have had a strong affectation of extracting new meanings out +of his author; insomuch as to promise, in his rhyming preface, a poem of +the mysteries he had revealed in Homer; and perhaps he endeavoured to +strain the obvious sense to this end. His expression is involved in +fustian; a fault for which he was remarkable in his original writings, as +in the tragedy of Bussy d'Amboise, &c. In a word, the nature of the man +may account for his whole performance; for he appears, from his preface +and remarks, to have been of an arrogant turn, and an enthusiast in +poetry. His own boast, of having finished half the Iliad in less than +fifteen weeks, shows with what negligence his version was performed. But +that which is to be allowed him, and which very much contributed to cover +his defects, is a daring fiery spirit that animates his translation, which +is something like what one might imagine Homer himself would have writ +before he arrived at years of discretion. + +Hobbes has given us a correct explanation of the sense in general; but for +particulars and circumstances he continually lops them, and often omits +the most beautiful. As for its being esteemed a close translation, I doubt +not many have been led into that error by the shortness of it, which +proceeds not from his following the original line by line, but from the +contractions above mentioned. He sometimes omits whole similes and +sentences; and is now and then guilty of mistakes, into which no writer of +his learning could have fallen, but through carelessness. His poetry, as +well as Ogilby's, is too mean for criticism. + +It is a great loss to the poetical world that Mr. Dryden did not live to +translate the Iliad. He has left us only the first book, and a small part +of the sixth; in which if he has in some places not truly interpreted the +sense, or preserved the antiquities, it ought to be excused on account of +the haste he was obliged to write in. He seems to have had too much regard +to Chapman, whose words he sometimes copies, and has unhappily followed +him in passages where he wanders from the original. However, had he +translated the whole work, I would no more have attempted Homer after him +than Virgil: his version of whom (notwithstanding some human errors) is +the most noble and spirited translation I know in any language. But the +fate of great geniuses is like that of great ministers: though they are +confessedly the first in the commonwealth of letters, they must be envied +and calumniated only for being at the head of it. + +That which, in my opinion, ought to be the endeavour of any one who +translates Homer, is above all things to keep alive that spirit and fire +which makes his chief character: in particular places, where the sense can +bear any doubt, to follow the strongest and most poetical, as most +agreeing with that character; to copy him in all the variations of his +style, and the different modulations of his numbers; to preserve, in the +more active or descriptive parts, a warmth and elevation; in the more +sedate or narrative, a plainness and solemnity; in the speeches, a fulness +and perspicuity; in the sentences, a shortness and gravity; not to neglect +even the little figures and turns on the words, nor sometimes the very +cast of the periods; neither to omit nor confound any rites or customs of +antiquity: perhaps too he ought to include the whole in a shorter compass +than has hitherto been done by any translator who has tolerably preserved +either the sense or poetry. What I would further recommend to him is, to +study his author rather from his own text, than from any commentaries, how +learned soever, or whatever figure they may make in the estimation of the +world; to consider him attentively in comparison with Virgil above all the +ancients, and with Milton above all the moderns. Next these, the +Archbishop of Cambray's Telemachus may give him the truest idea of the +spirit and turn of our author; and Bossu's admirable Treatise of the Epic +Poem the justest notion of his design and conduct. But after all, with +whatever judgment and study a man may proceed, or with whatever happiness +he may perform such a work, he must hope to please but a few; those only +who have at once a taste of poetry, and competent learning. For to satisfy +such a want either, is not in the nature of this undertaking; since a mere +modern wit can like nothing that is not modern, and a pedant nothing that +is not Greek. + +What I have done is submitted to the public; from whose opinions I am +prepared to learn; though I fear no judges so little as our best poets, +who are most sensible of the weight of this task. As for the worst, +whatever they shall please to say, they may give me some concern as they +are unhappy men, but none as they are malignant writers. I was guided in +this translation by judgments very different from theirs, and by persons +for whom they can have no kindness, if an old observation be true, that +the strongest antipathy in the world is that of fools to men of wit. Mr. +Addison was the first whose advice determined me to undertake this task; +who was pleased to write to me upon that occasion in such terms as I +cannot repeat without vanity. I was obliged to Sir Richard Steele for a +very early recommendation of my undertaking to the public. Dr. Swift +promoted my interest with that warmth with which he always serves his +friend. The humanity and frankness of Sir Samuel Garth are what I never +knew wanting on any occasion. I must also acknowledge, with infinite +pleasure, the many friendly offices, as well as sincere criticisms, of Mr. +Congreve, who had led me the way in translating some parts of Homer. I +must add the names of Mr. Rowe, and Dr. Parnell, though I shall take a +further opportunity of doing justice to the last, whose good nature (to +give it a great panegyric), is no less extensive than his learning. The +favour of these gentlemen is not entirely undeserved by one who bears them +so true an affection. But what can I say of the honour so many of the +great have done me; while the first names of the age appear as my +subscribers, and the most distinguished patrons and ornaments of learning +as my chief encouragers? Among these it is a particular pleasure to me to +find, that my highest obligations are to such who have done most honour to +the name of poet: that his grace the Duke of Buckingham was not displeased +I should undertake the author to whom he has given (in his excellent +Essay), so complete a praise: + + "Read Homer once, and you can read no more; + For all books else appear so mean, so poor, + Verse will seem prose: but still persist to read, + And Homer will be all the books you need." + +That the Earl of Halifax was one of the first to favour me; of whom it is +hard to say whether the advancement of the polite arts is more owing to +his generosity or his example: that such a genius as my Lord Bolingbroke, +not more distinguished in the great scenes of business, than in all the +useful and entertaining parts of learning, has not refused to be the +critic of these sheets, and the patron of their writer: and that the noble +author of the tragedy of "Heroic Love" has continued his partiality to me, +from my writing pastorals to my attempting the Iliad. I cannot deny myself +the pride of confessing, that I have had the advantage not only of their +advice for the conduct in general, but their correction of several +particulars of this translation. + +I could say a great deal of the pleasure of being distinguished by the +Earl of Carnarvon; but it is almost absurd to particularize any one +generous action in a person whose whole life is a continued series of +them. Mr. Stanhope, the present secretary of state, will pardon my desire +of having it known that he was pleased to promote this affair. The +particular zeal of Mr. Harcourt (the son of the late Lord Chancellor) gave +me a proof how much I am honoured in a share of his friendship. I must +attribute to the same motive that of several others of my friends: to whom +all acknowledgments are rendered unnecessary by the privileges of a +familiar correspondence; and I am satisfied I can no way better oblige men +of their turn than by my silence. + +In short, I have found more patrons than ever Homer wanted. He would have +thought himself happy to have met the same favour at Athens that has been +shown me by its learned rival, the University of Oxford. And I can hardly +envy him those pompous honours he received after death, when I reflect on +the enjoyment of so many agreeable obligations, and easy friendships, +which make the satisfaction of life. This distinction is the more to be +acknowledged, as it is shown to one whose pen has never gratified the +prejudices of particular parties, or the vanities of particular men. +Whatever the success may prove, I shall never repent of an undertaking in +which I have experienced the candour and friendship of so many persons of +merit; and in which I hope to pass some of those years of youth that are +generally lost in a circle of follies, after a manner neither wholly +unuseful to others, nor disagreeable to myself. + + + + + + +THE ILIAD. + + + + + +BOOK I. + + +ARGUMENT.(40) + +THE CONTENTION OF ACHILLES AND AGAMEMNON. + +In the war of Troy, the Greeks having sacked some of the neighbouring +towns, and taken from thence two beautiful captives, Chryseis and Briseis, +allotted the first to Agamemnon, and the last to Achilles. Chryses, the +father of Chryseis, and priest of Apollo, comes to the Grecian camp to +ransom her; with which the action of the poem opens, in the tenth year of +the siege. The priest being refused, and insolently dismissed by +Agamemnon, entreats for vengeance from his god; who inflicts a pestilence +on the Greeks. Achilles calls a council, and encourages Chalcas to declare +the cause of it; who attributes it to the refusal of Chryseis. The king, +being obliged to send back his captive, enters into a furious contest with +Achilles, which Nestor pacifies; however, as he had the absolute command +of the army, he seizes on Briseis in revenge. Achilles in discontent +withdraws himself and his forces from the rest of the Greeks; and +complaining to Thetis, she supplicates Jupiter to render them sensible of +the wrong done to her son, by giving victory to the Trojans. Jupiter, +granting her suit, incenses Juno: between whom the debate runs high, till +they are reconciled by the address of Vulcan. + +The time of two-and-twenty days is taken up in this book: nine during the +plague, one in the council and quarrel of the princes, and twelve for +Jupiter's stay with the AEthiopians, at whose return Thetis prefers her +petition. The scene lies in the Grecian camp, then changes to Chrysa, and +lastly to Olympus. + + Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring + Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly goddess, sing! + That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reign + The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain; + Whose limbs unburied on the naked shore, + Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore.(41) + Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, + Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!(42) + + Declare, O Muse! in what ill-fated hour(43) + Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power + Latona's son a dire contagion spread,(44) + And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead; + The king of men his reverent priest defied,(45) + And for the king's offence the people died. + + For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain + His captive daughter from the victor's chain. + Suppliant the venerable father stands; + Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands + By these he begs; and lowly bending down, + Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown + He sued to all, but chief implored for grace + The brother-kings, of Atreus' royal race(46) + + "Ye kings and warriors! may your vows be crown'd, + And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground. + May Jove restore you when your toils are o'er + Safe to the pleasures of your native shore. + But, oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain, + And give Chryseis to these arms again; + If mercy fail, yet let my presents move, + And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove." + + The Greeks in shouts their joint assent declare, + The priest to reverence, and release the fair. + Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride, + Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied: + + "Hence on thy life, and fly these hostile plains, + Nor ask, presumptuous, what the king detains + Hence, with thy laurel crown, and golden rod, + Nor trust too far those ensigns of thy god. + Mine is thy daughter, priest, and shall remain; + And prayers, and tears, and bribes, shall plead in vain; + Till time shall rifle every youthful grace, + And age dismiss her from my cold embrace, + In daily labours of the loom employ'd, + Or doom'd to deck the bed she once enjoy'd + Hence then; to Argos shall the maid retire, + Far from her native soil and weeping sire." + + [Illustration: HOMER INVOKING THE MUSE.] + + HOMER INVOKING THE MUSE. + + + The trembling priest along the shore return'd, + And in the anguish of a father mourn'd. + Disconsolate, not daring to complain, + Silent he wander'd by the sounding main; + Till, safe at distance, to his god he prays, + The god who darts around the world his rays. + + "O Smintheus! sprung from fair Latona's line,(47) + Thou guardian power of Cilla the divine,(48) + Thou source of light! whom Tenedos adores, + And whose bright presence gilds thy Chrysa's shores. + If e'er with wreaths I hung thy sacred fane,(49) + Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain; + God of the silver bow! thy shafts employ, + Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks destroy." + + Thus Chryses pray'd.--the favouring power attends, + And from Olympus' lofty tops descends. + Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound;(50) + Fierce as he moved, his silver shafts resound. + Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread, + And gloomy darkness roll'd about his head. + The fleet in view, he twang'd his deadly bow, + And hissing fly the feather'd fates below. + On mules and dogs the infection first began;(51) + And last, the vengeful arrows fix'd in man. + For nine long nights, through all the dusky air, + The pyres, thick-flaming, shot a dismal glare. + But ere the tenth revolving day was run, + Inspired by Juno, Thetis' godlike son + Convened to council all the Grecian train; + For much the goddess mourn'd her heroes slain.(52) + The assembly seated, rising o'er the rest, + Achilles thus the king of men address'd: + + "Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore, + And measure back the seas we cross'd before? + The plague destroying whom the sword would spare, + 'Tis time to save the few remains of war. + But let some prophet, or some sacred sage, + Explore the cause of great Apollo's rage; + Or learn the wasteful vengeance to remove + By mystic dreams, for dreams descend from Jove.(53) + If broken vows this heavy curse have laid, + Let altars smoke, and hecatombs be paid. + So Heaven, atoned, shall dying Greece restore, + And Phoebus dart his burning shafts no more." + + He said, and sat: when Chalcas thus replied; + Chalcas the wise, the Grecian priest and guide, + That sacred seer, whose comprehensive view, + The past, the present, and the future knew: + Uprising slow, the venerable sage + Thus spoke the prudence and the fears of age: + + "Beloved of Jove, Achilles! would'st thou know + Why angry Phoebus bends his fatal bow? + First give thy faith, and plight a prince's word + Of sure protection, by thy power and sword: + For I must speak what wisdom would conceal, + And truths, invidious to the great, reveal, + Bold is the task, when subjects, grown too wise, + Instruct a monarch where his error lies; + For though we deem the short-lived fury past, + 'Tis sure the mighty will revenge at last." + To whom Pelides:--"From thy inmost soul + Speak what thou know'st, and speak without control. + E'en by that god I swear who rules the day, + To whom thy hands the vows of Greece convey. + And whose bless'd oracles thy lips declare; + Long as Achilles breathes this vital air, + No daring Greek, of all the numerous band, + Against his priest shall lift an impious hand; + Not e'en the chief by whom our hosts are led, + The king of kings, shall touch that sacred head." + + Encouraged thus, the blameless man replies: + "Nor vows unpaid, nor slighted sacrifice, + But he, our chief, provoked the raging pest, + Apollo's vengeance for his injured priest. + Nor will the god's awaken'd fury cease, + But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires increase, + Till the great king, without a ransom paid, + To her own Chrysa send the black-eyed maid.(54) + Perhaps, with added sacrifice and prayer, + The priest may pardon, and the god may spare." + + The prophet spoke: when with a gloomy frown + The monarch started from his shining throne; + Black choler fill'd his breast that boil'd with ire, + And from his eye-balls flash'd the living fire: + "Augur accursed! denouncing mischief still, + Prophet of plagues, for ever boding ill! + Still must that tongue some wounding message bring, + And still thy priestly pride provoke thy king? + For this are Phoebus' oracles explored, + To teach the Greeks to murmur at their lord? + For this with falsehood is my honour stain'd, + Is heaven offended, and a priest profaned; + Because my prize, my beauteous maid, I hold, + And heavenly charms prefer to proffer'd gold? + A maid, unmatch'd in manners as in face, + Skill'd in each art, and crown'd with every grace; + Not half so dear were Clytaemnestra's charms, + When first her blooming beauties bless'd my arms. + Yet, if the gods demand her, let her sail; + Our cares are only for the public weal: + Let me be deem'd the hateful cause of all, + And suffer, rather than my people fall. + The prize, the beauteous prize, I will resign, + So dearly valued, and so justly mine. + But since for common good I yield the fair, + My private loss let grateful Greece repair; + Nor unrewarded let your prince complain, + That he alone has fought and bled in vain." + "Insatiate king (Achilles thus replies), + Fond of the power, but fonder of the prize! + Would'st thou the Greeks their lawful prey should yield, + The due reward of many a well-fought field? + + The spoils of cities razed and warriors slain, + We share with justice, as with toil we gain; + But to resume whate'er thy avarice craves + (That trick of tyrants) may be borne by slaves. + Yet if our chief for plunder only fight, + The spoils of Ilion shall thy loss requite, + Whene'er, by Jove's decree, our conquering powers + Shall humble to the dust her lofty towers." + + Then thus the king: "Shall I my prize resign + With tame content, and thou possess'd of thine? + Great as thou art, and like a god in fight, + Think not to rob me of a soldier's right. + At thy demand shall I restore the maid? + First let the just equivalent be paid; + Such as a king might ask; and let it be + A treasure worthy her, and worthy me. + Or grant me this, or with a monarch's claim + This hand shall seize some other captive dame. + The mighty Ajax shall his prize resign;(55) + Ulysses' spoils, or even thy own, be mine. + The man who suffers, loudly may complain; + And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain. + But this when time requires.--It now remains + We launch a bark to plough the watery plains, + And waft the sacrifice to Chrysa's shores, + With chosen pilots, and with labouring oars. + Soon shall the fair the sable ship ascend, + And some deputed prince the charge attend: + This Creta's king, or Ajax shall fulfil, + Or wise Ulysses see perform'd our will; + Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain, + Achilles' self conduct her o'er the main; + Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage, + The god propitiate, and the pest assuage." + + [Illustration: MARS.] + + MARS. + + + At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied: + "O tyrant, arm'd with insolence and pride! + Inglorious slave to interest, ever join'd + With fraud, unworthy of a royal mind! + What generous Greek, obedient to thy word, + Shall form an ambush, or shall lift the sword? + What cause have I to war at thy decree? + The distant Trojans never injured me; + To Phthia's realms no hostile troops they led: + Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed; + Far hence removed, the hoarse-resounding main, + And walls of rocks, secure my native reign, + Whose fruitful soil luxuriant harvests grace, + Rich in her fruits, and in her martial race. + Hither we sail'd, a voluntary throng, + To avenge a private, not a public wrong: + What else to Troy the assembled nations draws, + But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother's cause? + Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve; + Disgraced and injured by the man we serve? + And darest thou threat to snatch my prize away, + Due to the deeds of many a dreadful day? + A prize as small, O tyrant! match'd with thine, + As thy own actions if compared to mine. + Thine in each conquest is the wealthy prey, + Though mine the sweat and danger of the day. + Some trivial present to my ships I bear: + Or barren praises pay the wounds of war. + But know, proud monarch, I'm thy slave no more; + My fleet shall waft me to Thessalia's shore: + Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain, + What spoils, what conquests, shall Atrides gain?" + + To this the king: "Fly, mighty warrior! fly; + Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy. + There want not chiefs in such a cause to fight, + And Jove himself shall guard a monarch's right. + Of all the kings (the god's distinguish'd care) + To power superior none such hatred bear: + Strife and debate thy restless soul employ, + And wars and horrors are thy savage joy, + If thou hast strength, 'twas Heaven that strength bestow'd; + For know, vain man! thy valour is from God. + Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away; + Rule thy own realms with arbitrary sway; + I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate + Thy short-lived friendship, and thy groundless hate. + Go, threat thy earth-born Myrmidons:--but here(56) + 'Tis mine to threaten, prince, and thine to fear. + Know, if the god the beauteous dame demand, + My bark shall waft her to her native land; + But then prepare, imperious prince! prepare, + Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive fair: + Even in thy tent I'll seize the blooming prize, + Thy loved Briseis with the radiant eyes. + Hence shalt thou prove my might, and curse the hour + Thou stood'st a rival of imperial power; + And hence, to all our hosts it shall be known, + That kings are subject to the gods alone." + + Achilles heard, with grief and rage oppress'd, + His heart swell'd high, and labour'd in his breast; + Distracting thoughts by turns his bosom ruled; + Now fired by wrath, and now by reason cool'd: + That prompts his hand to draw the deadly sword, + Force through the Greeks, and pierce their haughty lord; + This whispers soft his vengeance to control, + And calm the rising tempest of his soul. + Just as in anguish of suspense he stay'd, + While half unsheathed appear'd the glittering blade,(57) + Minerva swift descended from above, + Sent by the sister and the wife of Jove + (For both the princes claim'd her equal care); + Behind she stood, and by the golden hair + Achilles seized; to him alone confess'd; + A sable cloud conceal'd her from the rest. + He sees, and sudden to the goddess cries, + Known by the flames that sparkle from her eyes: + + [Illustration: MINERVA REPRESSING THE FURY OF ACHILLES.] + + MINERVA REPRESSING THE FURY OF ACHILLES. + + + "Descends Minerva, in her guardian care, + A heavenly witness of the wrongs I bear + From Atreus' son?--Then let those eyes that view + The daring crime, behold the vengeance too." + + "Forbear (the progeny of Jove replies) + To calm thy fury I forsake the skies: + Let great Achilles, to the gods resign'd, + To reason yield the empire o'er his mind. + By awful Juno this command is given; + The king and you are both the care of heaven. + The force of keen reproaches let him feel; + But sheathe, obedient, thy revenging steel. + For I pronounce (and trust a heavenly power) + Thy injured honour has its fated hour, + When the proud monarch shall thy arms implores + And bribe thy friendship with a boundless store. + Then let revenge no longer bear the sway; + Command thy passions, and the gods obey." + + To her Pelides:--"With regardful ear, + 'Tis just, O goddess! I thy dictates hear. + Hard as it is, my vengeance I suppress: + Those who revere the gods the gods will bless." + He said, observant of the blue-eyed maid; + Then in the sheath return'd the shining blade. + The goddess swift to high Olympus flies, + And joins the sacred senate of the skies. + + Nor yet the rage his boiling breast forsook, + Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke: + "O monster! mix'd of insolence and fear, + Thou dog in forehead, but in heart a deer! + When wert thou known in ambush'd fights to dare, + Or nobly face the horrid front of war? + 'Tis ours, the chance of fighting fields to try; + Thine to look on, and bid the valiant die: + So much 'tis safer through the camp to go, + And rob a subject, than despoil a foe. + Scourge of thy people, violent and base! + Sent in Jove's anger on a slavish race; + Who, lost to sense of generous freedom past, + Are tamed to wrongs;--or this had been thy last. + Now by this sacred sceptre hear me swear, + Which never more shall leaves or blossoms bear, + Which sever'd from the trunk (as I from thee) + On the bare mountains left its parent tree; + This sceptre, form'd by temper'd steel to prove + An ensign of the delegates of Jove, + From whom the power of laws and justice springs + (Tremendous oath! inviolate to kings); + By this I swear:--when bleeding Greece again + Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain. + When, flush'd with slaughter, Hector comes to spread + The purpled shore with mountains of the dead, + Then shall thou mourn the affront thy madness gave, + Forced to deplore when impotent to save: + Then rage in bitterness of soul to know + This act has made the bravest Greek thy foe." + + He spoke; and furious hurl'd against the ground + His sceptre starr'd with golden studs around: + Then sternly silent sat. With like disdain + The raging king return'd his frowns again. + + To calm their passion with the words of age, + Slow from his seat arose the Pylian sage, + Experienced Nestor, in persuasion skill'd; + Words, sweet as honey, from his lips distill'd:(58) + Two generations now had pass'd away, + Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway; + Two ages o'er his native realm he reign'd, + And now the example of the third remain'd. + All view'd with awe the venerable man; + Who thus with mild benevolence began:-- + + "What shame, what woe is this to Greece! what joy + To Troy's proud monarch, and the friends of Troy! + That adverse gods commit to stern debate + The best, the bravest, of the Grecian state. + Young as ye are, this youthful heat restrain, + Nor think your Nestor's years and wisdom vain. + A godlike race of heroes once I knew, + Such as no more these aged eyes shall view! + Lives there a chief to match Pirithous' fame, + Dryas the bold, or Ceneus' deathless name; + Theseus, endued with more than mortal might, + Or Polyphemus, like the gods in fight? + With these of old, to toils of battle bred, + In early youth my hardy days I led; + Fired with the thirst which virtuous envy breeds, + And smit with love of honourable deeds, + Strongest of men, they pierced the mountain boar, + Ranged the wild deserts red with monsters' gore, + And from their hills the shaggy Centaurs tore: + Yet these with soft persuasive arts I sway'd; + When Nestor spoke, they listen'd and obey'd. + If in my youth, even these esteem'd me wise; + Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise. + Atrides, seize not on the beauteous slave; + That prize the Greeks by common suffrage gave: + Nor thou, Achilles, treat our prince with pride; + Let kings be just, and sovereign power preside. + Thee, the first honours of the war adorn, + Like gods in strength, and of a goddess born; + Him, awful majesty exalts above + The powers of earth, and sceptred sons of Jove. + Let both unite with well-consenting mind, + So shall authority with strength be join'd. + Leave me, O king! to calm Achilles' rage; + Rule thou thyself, as more advanced in age. + Forbid it, gods! Achilles should be lost, + The pride of Greece, and bulwark of our host." + + This said, he ceased. The king of men replies: + "Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise. + But that imperious, that unconquer'd soul, + No laws can limit, no respect control. + Before his pride must his superiors fall; + His word the law, and he the lord of all? + Him must our hosts, our chiefs, ourself obey? + What king can bear a rival in his sway? + Grant that the gods his matchless force have given; + Has foul reproach a privilege from heaven?" + + Here on the monarch's speech Achilles broke, + And furious, thus, and interrupting spoke: + "Tyrant, I well deserved thy galling chain, + To live thy slave, and still to serve in vain, + Should I submit to each unjust decree:-- + Command thy vassals, but command not me. + Seize on Briseis, whom the Grecians doom'd + My prize of war, yet tamely see resumed; + And seize secure; no more Achilles draws + His conquering sword in any woman's cause. + The gods command me to forgive the past: + But let this first invasion be the last: + For know, thy blood, when next thou darest invade, + Shall stream in vengeance on my reeking blade." + + At this they ceased: the stern debate expired: + The chiefs in sullen majesty retired. + + Achilles with Patroclus took his way + Where near his tents his hollow vessels lay. + Meantime Atrides launch'd with numerous oars + A well-rigg'd ship for Chrysa's sacred shores: + High on the deck was fair Chryseis placed, + And sage Ulysses with the conduct graced: + Safe in her sides the hecatomb they stow'd, + Then swiftly sailing, cut the liquid road. + + The host to expiate next the king prepares, + With pure lustrations, and with solemn prayers. + Wash'd by the briny wave, the pious train(59) + Are cleansed; and cast the ablutions in the main. + Along the shore whole hecatombs were laid, + And bulls and goats to Phoebus' altars paid; + The sable fumes in curling spires arise, + And waft their grateful odours to the skies. + + The army thus in sacred rites engaged, + Atrides still with deep resentment raged. + To wait his will two sacred heralds stood, + Talthybius and Eurybates the good. + "Haste to the fierce Achilles' tent (he cries), + Thence bear Briseis as our royal prize: + Submit he must; or if they will not part, + Ourself in arms shall tear her from his heart." + + The unwilling heralds act their lord's commands; + Pensive they walk along the barren sands: + Arrived, the hero in his tent they find, + With gloomy aspect on his arm reclined. + At awful distance long they silent stand, + Loth to advance, and speak their hard command; + Decent confusion! This the godlike man + Perceived, and thus with accent mild began: + + "With leave and honour enter our abodes, + Ye sacred ministers of men and gods!(60) + I know your message; by constraint you came; + Not you, but your imperious lord I blame. + Patroclus, haste, the fair Briseis bring; + Conduct my captive to the haughty king. + But witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow, + Witness to gods above, and men below! + But first, and loudest, to your prince declare + (That lawless tyrant whose commands you bear), + Unmoved as death Achilles shall remain, + Though prostrate Greece shall bleed at every vein: + The raging chief in frantic passion lost, + Blind to himself, and useless to his host, + Unskill'd to judge the future by the past, + In blood and slaughter shall repent at last." + + [Illustration: THE DEPARTURE OF BRISEIS FROM THE TENT OF ACHILLES.] + + THE DEPARTURE OF BRISEIS FROM THE TENT OF ACHILLES. + + + Patroclus now the unwilling beauty brought; + She, in soft sorrows, and in pensive thought, + Pass'd silent, as the heralds held her hand, + And of look'd back, slow-moving o'er the strand. + Not so his loss the fierce Achilles bore; + But sad, retiring to the sounding shore, + O'er the wild margin of the deep he hung, + That kindred deep from whence his mother sprung:(61) + There bathed in tears of anger and disdain, + Thus loud lamented to the stormy main: + + "O parent goddess! since in early bloom + Thy son must fall, by too severe a doom; + Sure to so short a race of glory born, + Great Jove in justice should this span adorn: + Honour and fame at least the thunderer owed; + And ill he pays the promise of a god, + If yon proud monarch thus thy son defies, + Obscures my glories, and resumes my prize." + + Far from the deep recesses of the main, + Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign, + The goddess-mother heard. The waves divide; + And like a mist she rose above the tide; + Beheld him mourning on the naked shores, + And thus the sorrows of his soul explores. + "Why grieves my son? Thy anguish let me share; + Reveal the cause, and trust a parent's care." + + He deeply sighing said: "To tell my woe + Is but to mention what too well you know. + From Thebe, sacred to Apollo's name(62) + (Aetion's realm), our conquering army came, + With treasure loaded and triumphant spoils, + Whose just division crown'd the soldier's toils; + But bright Chryseis, heavenly prize! was led, + By vote selected, to the general's bed. + The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts to gain + His beauteous daughter from the victor's chain; + The fleet he reach'd, and, lowly bending down, + Held forth the sceptre and the laurel crown, + Intreating all; but chief implored for grace + The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race: + The generous Greeks their joint consent declare, + The priest to reverence, and release the fair; + Not so Atrides: he, with wonted pride, + The sire insulted, and his gifts denied: + The insulted sire (his god's peculiar care) + To Phoebus pray'd, and Phoebus heard the prayer: + A dreadful plague ensues: the avenging darts + Incessant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts. + A prophet then, inspired by heaven, arose, + And points the crime, and thence derives the woes: + Myself the first the assembled chiefs incline + To avert the vengeance of the power divine; + Then rising in his wrath, the monarch storm'd; + Incensed he threaten'd, and his threats perform'd: + The fair Chryseis to her sire was sent, + With offer'd gifts to make the god relent; + But now he seized Briseis' heavenly charms, + And of my valour's prize defrauds my arms, + Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train;(63) + And service, faith, and justice, plead in vain. + But, goddess! thou thy suppliant son attend. + To high Olympus' shining court ascend, + Urge all the ties to former service owed, + And sue for vengeance to the thundering god. + Oft hast thou triumph'd in the glorious boast, + That thou stood'st forth of all the ethereal host, + When bold rebellion shook the realms above, + The undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove: + When the bright partner of his awful reign, + The warlike maid, and monarch of the main, + The traitor-gods, by mad ambition driven, + Durst threat with chains the omnipotence of Heaven. + Then, call'd by thee, the monster Titan came + (Whom gods Briareus, men AEgeon name), + Through wondering skies enormous stalk'd along; + Not he that shakes the solid earth so strong: + With giant-pride at Jove's high throne he stands, + And brandish'd round him all his hundred hands: + The affrighted gods confess'd their awful lord, + They dropp'd the fetters, trembled, and adored.(64) + This, goddess, this to his remembrance call, + Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall; + Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train, + To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main, + To heap the shores with copious death, and bring + The Greeks to know the curse of such a king. + Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head + O'er all his wide dominion of the dead, + And mourn in blood that e'er he durst disgrace + The boldest warrior of the Grecian race." + + [Illustration: THETIS CALLING BRIAREUS TO THE ASSISTANCE OF JUPITER.] + + THETIS CALLING BRIAREUS TO THE ASSISTANCE OF JUPITER. + + + "Unhappy son! (fair Thetis thus replies, + While tears celestial trickle from her eyes) + Why have I borne thee with a mother's throes, + To Fates averse, and nursed for future woes?(65) + So short a space the light of heaven to view! + So short a space! and fill'd with sorrow too! + O might a parent's careful wish prevail, + Far, far from Ilion should thy vessels sail, + And thou, from camps remote, the danger shun + Which now, alas! too nearly threats my son. + Yet (what I can) to move thy suit I'll go + To great Olympus crown'd with fleecy snow. + Meantime, secure within thy ships, from far + Behold the field, not mingle in the war. + The sire of gods and all the ethereal train, + On the warm limits of the farthest main, + Now mix with mortals, nor disdain to grace + The feasts of AEthiopia's blameless race,(66) + Twelve days the powers indulge the genial rite, + Returning with the twelfth revolving light. + Then will I mount the brazen dome, and move + The high tribunal of immortal Jove." + + The goddess spoke: the rolling waves unclose; + Then down the steep she plunged from whence she rose, + And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast, + In wild resentment for the fair he lost. + + In Chrysa's port now sage Ulysses rode; + Beneath the deck the destined victims stow'd: + The sails they furl'd, they lash the mast aside, + And dropp'd their anchors, and the pinnace tied. + Next on the shore their hecatomb they land; + Chryseis last descending on the strand. + Her, thus returning from the furrow'd main, + Ulysses led to Phoebus' sacred fane; + Where at his solemn altar, as the maid + He gave to Chryses, thus the hero said: + + "Hail, reverend priest! to Phoebus' awful dome + A suppliant I from great Atrides come: + Unransom'd, here receive the spotless fair; + Accept the hecatomb the Greeks prepare; + And may thy god who scatters darts around, + Atoned by sacrifice, desist to wound."(67) + + At this, the sire embraced the maid again, + So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain. + Then near the altar of the darting king, + Disposed in rank their hecatomb they bring; + With water purify their hands, and take + The sacred offering of the salted cake; + While thus with arms devoutly raised in air, + And solemn voice, the priest directs his prayer: + + "God of the silver bow, thy ear incline, + Whose power incircles Cilla the divine; + Whose sacred eye thy Tenedos surveys, + And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguish'd rays! + If, fired to vengeance at thy priest's request, + Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest: + Once more attend! avert the wasteful woe, + And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow." + + So Chryses pray'd. Apollo heard his prayer: + And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare; + Between their horns the salted barley threw, + And, with their heads to heaven, the victims slew:(68) + The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide; + The thighs, selected to the gods, divide: + On these, in double cauls involved with art, + The choicest morsels lay from every part. + The priest himself before his altar stands, + And burns the offering with his holy hands. + Pours the black wine, and sees the flames aspire; + The youth with instruments surround the fire: + The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dress'd, + The assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest: + Then spread the tables, the repast prepare; + Each takes his seat, and each receives his share. + When now the rage of hunger was repress'd, + With pure libations they conclude the feast; + The youths with wine the copious goblets crown'd, + And, pleased, dispense the flowing bowls around;(69) + With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends, + The paeans lengthen'd till the sun descends: + The Greeks, restored, the grateful notes prolong; + Apollo listens, and approves the song. + + 'Twas night; the chiefs beside their vessel lie, + Till rosy morn had purpled o'er the sky: + Then launch, and hoist the mast: indulgent gales, + Supplied by Phoebus, fill the swelling sails; + The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow, + The parted ocean foams and roars below: + Above the bounding billows swift they flew, + Till now the Grecian camp appear'd in view. + Far on the beach they haul their bark to land, + (The crooked keel divides the yellow sand,) + Then part, where stretch'd along the winding bay, + The ships and tents in mingled prospect lay. + + But raging still, amidst his navy sat + The stern Achilles, stedfast in his hate; + Nor mix'd in combat, nor in council join'd; + But wasting cares lay heavy on his mind: + In his black thoughts revenge and slaughter roll, + And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his soul. + + Twelve days were past, and now the dawning light + The gods had summon'd to the Olympian height: + Jove, first ascending from the watery bowers, + Leads the long order of ethereal powers. + When, like the morning-mist in early day, + Rose from the flood the daughter of the sea: + And to the seats divine her flight address'd. + There, far apart, and high above the rest, + The thunderer sat; where old Olympus shrouds + His hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds. + Suppliant the goddess stood: one hand she placed + Beneath his beard, and one his knees embraced. + "If e'er, O father of the gods! (she said) + My words could please thee, or my actions aid, + Some marks of honour on my son bestow, + And pay in glory what in life you owe. + Fame is at least by heavenly promise due + To life so short, and now dishonour'd too. + Avenge this wrong, O ever just and wise! + Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rise; + Till the proud king and all the Achaian race + Shall heap with honours him they now disgrace." + + [Illustration: THETIS ENTREATING JUPITER TO HONOUR ACHILLES.] + + THETIS ENTREATING JUPITER TO HONOUR ACHILLES. + + + Thus Thetis spoke; but Jove in silence held + The sacred counsels of his breast conceal'd. + Not so repulsed, the goddess closer press'd, + Still grasp'd his knees, and urged the dear request. + "O sire of gods and men! thy suppliant hear; + Refuse, or grant; for what has Jove to fear? + Or oh! declare, of all the powers above, + Is wretched Thetis least the care of Jove?" + + She said; and, sighing, thus the god replies, + Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted skies: + + "What hast thou ask'd? ah, why should Jove engage + In foreign contests and domestic rage, + The gods' complaints, and Juno's fierce alarms, + While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms? + Go, lest the haughty partner of my sway + With jealous eyes thy close access survey; + But part in peace, secure thy prayer is sped: + Witness the sacred honours of our head, + The nod that ratifies the will divine, + The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable sign; + This seals thy suit, and this fulfils thy vows--" + He spoke, and awful bends his sable brows,(70) + Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod, + The stamp of fate and sanction of the god: + High heaven with trembling the dread signal took, + And all Olympus to the centre shook.(71) + + Swift to the seas profound the goddess flies, + Jove to his starry mansions in the skies. + The shining synod of the immortals wait + The coming god, and from their thrones of state + Arising silent, wrapp'd in holy fear, + Before the majesty of heaven appear. + Trembling they stand, while Jove assumes the throne, + All, but the god's imperious queen alone: + Late had she view'd the silver-footed dame, + And all her passions kindled into flame. + "Say, artful manager of heaven (she cries), + Who now partakes the secrets of the skies? + Thy Juno knows not the decrees of fate, + In vain the partner of imperial state. + What favourite goddess then those cares divides, + Which Jove in prudence from his consort hides?" + + To this the thunderer: "Seek not thou to find + The sacred counsels of almighty mind: + Involved in darkness likes the great decree, + Nor can the depths of fate be pierced by thee. + What fits thy knowledge, thou the first shalt know; + The first of gods above, and men below; + But thou, nor they, shall search the thoughts that roll + Deep in the close recesses of my soul." + + Full on the sire the goddess of the skies + Roll'd the large orbs of her majestic eyes, + And thus return'd:--"Austere Saturnius, say, + From whence this wrath, or who controls thy sway? + Thy boundless will, for me, remains in force, + And all thy counsels take the destined course. + But 'tis for Greece I fear: for late was seen, + In close consult, the silver-footed queen. + Jove to his Thetis nothing could deny, + Nor was the signal vain that shook the sky. + What fatal favour has the goddess won, + To grace her fierce, inexorable son? + Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench the plain, + And glut his vengeance with my people slain." + + Then thus the god: "O restless fate of pride, + That strives to learn what heaven resolves to hide; + Vain is the search, presumptuous and abhorr'd, + Anxious to thee, and odious to thy lord. + Let this suffice: the immutable decree + No force can shake: what is, that ought to be. + Goddess, submit; nor dare our will withstand, + But dread the power of this avenging hand: + The united strength of all the gods above + In vain resists the omnipotence of Jove." + + [Illustration: VULCAN.] + + VULCAN. + + + The thunderer spoke, nor durst the queen reply; + A reverent horror silenced all the sky. + The feast disturb'd, with sorrow Vulcan saw + His mother menaced, and the gods in awe; + Peace at his heart, and pleasure his design, + Thus interposed the architect divine: + "The wretched quarrels of the mortal state + Are far unworthy, gods! of your debate: + Let men their days in senseless strife employ, + We, in eternal peace and constant joy. + Thou, goddess-mother, with our sire comply, + Nor break the sacred union of the sky: + Lest, roused to rage, he shake the bless'd abodes, + Launch the red lightning, and dethrone the gods. + If you submit, the thunderer stands appeased; + The gracious power is willing to be pleased." + + Thus Vulcan spoke: and rising with a bound, + The double bowl with sparkling nectar crown'd,(72) + Which held to Juno in a cheerful way, + "Goddess (he cried), be patient and obey. + Dear as you are, if Jove his arm extend, + I can but grieve, unable to defend + What god so daring in your aid to move, + Or lift his hand against the force of Jove? + Once in your cause I felt his matchless might, + Hurl'd headlong down from the ethereal height;(73) + Toss'd all the day in rapid circles round, + Nor till the sun descended touch'd the ground. + Breathless I fell, in giddy motion lost; + The Sinthians raised me on the Lemnian coast;(74) + + He said, and to her hands the goblet heaved, + Which, with a smile, the white-arm'd queen received + Then, to the rest he fill'd; and in his turn, + Each to his lips applied the nectar'd urn, + Vulcan with awkward grace his office plies, + And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the skies. + + Thus the blest gods the genial day prolong, + In feasts ambrosial, and celestial song.(75) + Apollo tuned the lyre; the Muses round + With voice alternate aid the silver sound. + Meantime the radiant sun to mortal sight + Descending swift, roll'd down the rapid light: + Then to their starry domes the gods depart, + The shining monuments of Vulcan's art: + Jove on his couch reclined his awful head, + And Juno slumber'd on the golden bed. + + [Illustration: JUPITER.] + + JUPITER. + + + [Illustration: THE APOTHEOSIS OF HOMER.] + + THE APOTHEOSIS OF HOMER. + + + + + +BOOK II. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE TRIAL OF THE ARMY, AND CATALOGUE OF THE FORCES. + +Jupiter, in pursuance of the request of Thetis, sends a deceitful vision +to Agamemnon, persuading him to lead the army to battle, in order to make +the Greeks sensible of their want of Achilles. The general, who is deluded +with the hopes of taking Troy without his assistance, but fears the army +was discouraged by his absence, and the late plague, as well as by the +length of time, contrives to make trial of their disposition by a +stratagem. He first communicates his design to the princes in council, +that he would propose a return to the soldiers, and that they should put a +stop to them if the proposal was embraced. Then he assembles the whole +host, and upon moving for a return to Greece, they unanimously agree to +it, and run to prepare the ships. They are detained by the management of +Ulysses, who chastises the insolence of Thersites. The assembly is +recalled, several speeches made on the occasion, and at length the advice +of Nestor followed, which was to make a general muster of the troops, and +to divide them into their several nations, before they proceeded to +battle. This gives occasion to the poet to enumerate all the forces of the +Greeks and Trojans, and in a large catalogue. + +The time employed in this book consists not entirely of one day. The scene +lies in the Grecian camp, and upon the sea-shore; towards the end it +removes to Troy. + + Now pleasing sleep had seal'd each mortal eye, + Stretch'd in the tents the Grecian leaders lie: + The immortals slumber'd on their thrones above; + All, but the ever-wakeful eyes of Jove.(76) + To honour Thetis' son he bends his care, + And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war: + Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight, + And thus commands the vision of the night. + + "Fly hence, deluding Dream! and light as air,(77) + To Agamemnon's ample tent repair. + Bid him in arms draw forth the embattled train, + Lead all his Grecians to the dusty plain. + Declare, e'en now 'tis given him to destroy + The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy. + For now no more the gods with fate contend, + At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end. + Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall, + And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall." + + Swift as the word the vain illusion fled, + Descends, and hovers o'er Atrides' head; + Clothed in the figure of the Pylian sage, + Renown'd for wisdom, and revered for age: + Around his temples spreads his golden wing, + And thus the flattering dream deceives the king. + + [Illustration: JUPITER SENDING THE EVIL DREAM TO AGAMEMNON.] + + JUPITER SENDING THE EVIL DREAM TO AGAMEMNON. + + + "Canst thou, with all a monarch's cares oppress'd, + O Atreus' son! canst thou indulge the rest?(78) + Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides, + Directs in council, and in war presides, + To whom its safety a whole people owes, + To waste long nights in indolent repose.(79) + Monarch, awake! 'tis Jove's command I bear; + Thou, and thy glory, claim his heavenly care. + In just array draw forth the embattled train, + Lead all thy Grecians to the dusty plain; + E'en now, O king! 'tis given thee to destroy + The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy. + For now no more the gods with fate contend, + At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end. + Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall, + And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall. + Awake, but waking this advice approve, + And trust the vision that descends from Jove." + + The phantom said; then vanish'd from his sight, + Resolves to air, and mixes with the night. + A thousand schemes the monarch's mind employ; + Elate in thought he sacks untaken Troy: + Vain as he was, and to the future blind, + Nor saw what Jove and secret fate design'd, + What mighty toils to either host remain, + What scenes of grief, and numbers of the slain! + Eager he rises, and in fancy hears + The voice celestial murmuring in his ears. + First on his limbs a slender vest he drew, + Around him next the regal mantle threw, + The embroider'd sandals on his feet were tied; + The starry falchion glitter'd at his side; + And last, his arm the massy sceptre loads, + Unstain'd, immortal, and the gift of gods. + + Now rosy Morn ascends the court of Jove, + Lifts up her light, and opens day above. + The king despatch'd his heralds with commands + To range the camp and summon all the bands: + The gathering hosts the monarch's word obey; + While to the fleet Atrides bends his way. + In his black ship the Pylian prince he found; + There calls a senate of the peers around: + The assembly placed, the king of men express'd + The counsels labouring in his artful breast. + + "Friends and confederates! with attentive ear + Receive my words, and credit what you hear. + Late as I slumber'd in the shades of night, + A dream divine appear'd before my sight; + Whose visionary form like Nestor came, + The same in habit, and in mien the same.(80) + The heavenly phantom hover'd o'er my head, + 'And, dost thou sleep, O Atreus' son? (he said) + Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides, + Directs in council, and in war presides; + To whom its safety a whole people owes, + To waste long nights in indolent repose. + Monarch, awake! 'tis Jove's command I bear, + Thou and thy glory claim his heavenly care. + In just array draw forth the embattled train, + And lead the Grecians to the dusty plain; + E'en now, O king! 'tis given thee to destroy + The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy. + For now no more the gods with fate contend, + At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end. + Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall, + And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall. + + This hear observant, and the gods obey!' + The vision spoke, and pass'd in air away. + Now, valiant chiefs! since heaven itself alarms, + Unite, and rouse the sons of Greece to arms. + But first, with caution, try what yet they dare, + Worn with nine years of unsuccessful war. + To move the troops to measure back the main, + Be mine; and yours the province to detain." + + He spoke, and sat: when Nestor, rising said, + (Nestor, whom Pylos' sandy realms obey'd,) + "Princes of Greece, your faithful ears incline, + Nor doubt the vision of the powers divine; + Sent by great Jove to him who rules the host, + Forbid it, heaven! this warning should be lost! + Then let us haste, obey the god's alarms, + And join to rouse the sons of Greece to arms." + + Thus spoke the sage: the kings without delay + Dissolve the council, and their chief obey: + The sceptred rulers lead; the following host, + Pour'd forth by thousands, darkens all the coast. + As from some rocky cleft the shepherd sees + Clustering in heaps on heaps the driving bees, + Rolling and blackening, swarms succeeding swarms, + With deeper murmurs and more hoarse alarms; + Dusky they spread, a close embodied crowd, + And o'er the vale descends the living cloud.(81) + So, from the tents and ships, a lengthen'd train + Spreads all the beach, and wide o'ershades the plain: + Along the region runs a deafening sound; + Beneath their footsteps groans the trembling ground. + Fame flies before the messenger of Jove, + And shining soars, and claps her wings above. + Nine sacred heralds now, proclaiming loud(82) + The monarch's will, suspend the listening crowd. + Soon as the throngs in order ranged appear, + And fainter murmurs died upon the ear, + The king of kings his awful figure raised: + High in his hand the golden sceptre blazed; + The golden sceptre, of celestial flame, + By Vulcan form'd, from Jove to Hermes came. + To Pelops he the immortal gift resign'd; + The immortal gift great Pelops left behind, + In Atreus' hand, which not with Atreus ends, + To rich Thyestes next the prize descends; + And now the mark of Agamemnon's reign, + Subjects all Argos, and controls the main.(83) + + On this bright sceptre now the king reclined, + And artful thus pronounced the speech design'd: + "Ye sons of Mars, partake your leader's care, + Heroes of Greece, and brothers of the war! + Of partial Jove with justice I complain, + And heavenly oracles believed in vain + A safe return was promised to our toils, + Renown'd, triumphant, and enrich'd with spoils. + Now shameful flight alone can save the host, + Our blood, our treasure, and our glory lost. + So Jove decrees, resistless lord of all! + At whose command whole empires rise or fall: + He shakes the feeble props of human trust, + And towns and armies humbles to the dust + What shame to Greece a fruitful war to wage, + Oh, lasting shame in every future age! + Once great in arms, the common scorn we grow, + Repulsed and baffled by a feeble foe. + So small their number, that if wars were ceased, + And Greece triumphant held a general feast, + All rank'd by tens, whole decades when they dine + Must want a Trojan slave to pour the wine.(84) + But other forces have our hopes o'erthrown, + And Troy prevails by armies not her own. + Now nine long years of mighty Jove are run, + Since first the labours of this war begun: + Our cordage torn, decay'd our vessels lie, + And scarce insure the wretched power to fly. + Haste, then, for ever leave the Trojan wall! + Our weeping wives, our tender children call: + Love, duty, safety, summon us away, + 'Tis nature's voice, and nature we obey, + Our shatter'd barks may yet transport us o'er, + Safe and inglorious, to our native shore. + Fly, Grecians, fly, your sails and oars employ, + And dream no more of heaven-defended Troy." + + His deep design unknown, the hosts approve + Atrides' speech. The mighty numbers move. + So roll the billows to the Icarian shore, + From east and south when winds begin to roar, + Burst their dark mansions in the clouds, and sweep + The whitening surface of the ruffled deep. + And as on corn when western gusts descend,(85) + Before the blast the lofty harvests bend: + Thus o'er the field the moving host appears, + With nodding plumes and groves of waving spears. + The gathering murmur spreads, their trampling feet + Beat the loose sands, and thicken to the fleet; + With long-resounding cries they urge the train + To fit the ships, and launch into the main. + They toil, they sweat, thick clouds of dust arise, + The doubling clamours echo to the skies. + E'en then the Greeks had left the hostile plain, + And fate decreed the fall of Troy in vain; + But Jove's imperial queen their flight survey'd, + And sighing thus bespoke the blue-eyed maid: + + "Shall then the Grecians fly! O dire disgrace! + And leave unpunish'd this perfidious race? + Shall Troy, shall Priam, and the adulterous spouse, + In peace enjoy the fruits of broken vows? + And bravest chiefs, in Helen's quarrel slain, + Lie unrevenged on yon detested plain? + No: let my Greeks, unmoved by vain alarms, + Once more refulgent shine in brazen arms. + Haste, goddess, haste! the flying host detain, + Nor let one sail be hoisted on the main." + + Pallas obeys, and from Olympus' height + Swift to the ships precipitates her flight. + Ulysses, first in public cares, she found, + For prudent counsel like the gods renown'd: + Oppress'd with generous grief the hero stood, + Nor drew his sable vessels to the flood. + "And is it thus, divine Laertes' son, + Thus fly the Greeks (the martial maid begun), + Thus to their country bear their own disgrace, + And fame eternal leave to Priam's race? + Shall beauteous Helen still remain unfreed, + Still unrevenged, a thousand heroes bleed! + Haste, generous Ithacus! prevent the shame, + Recall your armies, and your chiefs reclaim. + Your own resistless eloquence employ, + And to the immortals trust the fall of Troy." + + The voice divine confess'd the warlike maid, + Ulysses heard, nor uninspired obey'd: + Then meeting first Atrides, from his hand + Received the imperial sceptre of command. + Thus graced, attention and respect to gain, + He runs, he flies through all the Grecian train; + Each prince of name, or chief in arms approved, + He fired with praise, or with persuasion moved. + + "Warriors like you, with strength and wisdom bless'd, + By brave examples should confirm the rest. + The monarch's will not yet reveal'd appears; + He tries our courage, but resents our fears. + The unwary Greeks his fury may provoke; + Not thus the king in secret council spoke. + Jove loves our chief, from Jove his honour springs, + Beware! for dreadful is the wrath of kings." + + But if a clamorous vile plebeian rose, + Him with reproof he check'd or tamed with blows. + "Be still, thou slave, and to thy betters yield; + Unknown alike in council and in field! + Ye gods, what dastards would our host command! + Swept to the war, the lumber of a land. + Be silent, wretch, and think not here allow'd + That worst of tyrants, an usurping crowd. + To one sole monarch Jove commits the sway; + His are the laws, and him let all obey."(86) + + With words like these the troops Ulysses ruled, + The loudest silenced, and the fiercest cool'd. + Back to the assembly roll the thronging train, + Desert the ships, and pour upon the plain. + Murmuring they move, as when old ocean roars, + And heaves huge surges to the trembling shores; + The groaning banks are burst with bellowing sound, + The rocks remurmur and the deeps rebound. + At length the tumult sinks, the noises cease, + And a still silence lulls the camp to peace. + Thersites only clamour'd in the throng, + Loquacious, loud, and turbulent of tongue: + Awed by no shame, by no respect controll'd, + In scandal busy, in reproaches bold: + With witty malice studious to defame, + Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim:-- + But chief he gloried with licentious style + To lash the great, and monarchs to revile. + His figure such as might his soul proclaim; + One eye was blinking, and one leg was lame: + His mountain shoulders half his breast o'erspread, + Thin hairs bestrew'd his long misshapen head. + Spleen to mankind his envious heart possess'd, + And much he hated all, but most the best: + Ulysses or Achilles still his theme; + But royal scandal his delight supreme, + Long had he lived the scorn of every Greek, + Vex'd when he spoke, yet still they heard him speak. + Sharp was his voice; which in the shrillest tone, + Thus with injurious taunts attack'd the throne. + + "Amidst the glories of so bright a reign, + What moves the great Atrides to complain? + 'Tis thine whate'er the warrior's breast inflames, + The golden spoil, and thine the lovely dames. + With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow, + Thy tents are crowded and thy chests o'erflow. + Thus at full ease in heaps of riches roll'd, + What grieves the monarch? Is it thirst of gold? + Say, shall we march with our unconquer'd powers + (The Greeks and I) to Ilion's hostile towers, + And bring the race of royal bastards here, + For Troy to ransom at a price too dear? + But safer plunder thy own host supplies; + Say, wouldst thou seize some valiant leader's prize? + Or, if thy heart to generous love be led, + Some captive fair, to bless thy kingly bed? + Whate'er our master craves submit we must, + Plagued with his pride, or punish'd for his lust. + Oh women of Achaia; men no more! + Hence let us fly, and let him waste his store + In loves and pleasures on the Phrygian shore. + We may be wanted on some busy day, + When Hector comes: so great Achilles may: + From him he forced the prize we jointly gave, + From him, the fierce, the fearless, and the brave: + And durst he, as he ought, resent that wrong, + This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long." + + Fierce from his seat at this Ulysses springs,(87) + In generous vengeance of the king of kings. + With indignation sparkling in his eyes, + He views the wretch, and sternly thus replies: + + "Peace, factious monster, born to vex the state, + With wrangling talents form'd for foul debate: + Curb that impetuous tongue, nor rashly vain, + And singly mad, asperse the sovereign reign. + Have we not known thee, slave! of all our host, + The man who acts the least, upbraids the most? + Think not the Greeks to shameful flight to bring, + Nor let those lips profane the name of king. + For our return we trust the heavenly powers; + Be that their care; to fight like men be ours. + But grant the host with wealth the general load, + Except detraction, what hast thou bestow'd? + Suppose some hero should his spoils resign, + Art thou that hero, could those spoils be thine? + Gods! let me perish on this hateful shore, + And let these eyes behold my son no more; + If, on thy next offence, this hand forbear + To strip those arms thou ill deserv'st to wear, + Expel the council where our princes meet, + And send thee scourged and howling through the fleet." + + He said, and cowering as the dastard bends, + The weighty sceptre on his bank descends.(88) + On the round bunch the bloody tumours rise: + The tears spring starting from his haggard eyes; + Trembling he sat, and shrunk in abject fears, + From his vile visage wiped the scalding tears; + While to his neighbour each express'd his thought: + + "Ye gods! what wonders has Ulysses wrought! + What fruits his conduct and his courage yield! + Great in the council, glorious in the field. + Generous he rises in the crown's defence, + To curb the factious tongue of insolence, + Such just examples on offenders shown, + Sedition silence, and assert the throne." + + 'Twas thus the general voice the hero praised, + Who, rising, high the imperial sceptre raised: + The blue-eyed Pallas, his celestial friend, + (In form a herald,) bade the crowds attend. + The expecting crowds in still attention hung, + To hear the wisdom of his heavenly tongue. + Then deeply thoughtful, pausing ere he spoke, + His silence thus the prudent hero broke: + + "Unhappy monarch! whom the Grecian race + With shame deserting, heap with vile disgrace. + Not such at Argos was their generous vow: + Once all their voice, but ah! forgotten now: + Ne'er to return, was then the common cry, + Till Troy's proud structures should in ashes lie. + Behold them weeping for their native shore; + What could their wives or helpless children more? + What heart but melts to leave the tender train, + And, one short month, endure the wintry main? + Few leagues removed, we wish our peaceful seat, + When the ship tosses, and the tempests beat: + Then well may this long stay provoke their tears, + The tedious length of nine revolving years. + Not for their grief the Grecian host I blame; + But vanquish'd! baffled! oh, eternal shame! + Expect the time to Troy's destruction given. + And try the faith of Chalcas and of heaven. + What pass'd at Aulis, Greece can witness bear,(89) + And all who live to breathe this Phrygian air. + Beside a fountain's sacred brink we raised + Our verdant altars, and the victims blazed: + 'Twas where the plane-tree spread its shades around, + The altars heaved; and from the crumbling ground + A mighty dragon shot, of dire portent; + From Jove himself the dreadful sign was sent. + Straight to the tree his sanguine spires he roll'd, + And curl'd around in many a winding fold; + The topmost branch a mother-bird possess'd; + Eight callow infants fill'd the mossy nest; + Herself the ninth; the serpent, as he hung, + Stretch'd his black jaws and crush'd the crying young; + While hovering near, with miserable moan, + The drooping mother wail'd her children gone. + The mother last, as round the nest she flew, + Seized by the beating wing, the monster slew; + Nor long survived: to marble turn'd, he stands + A lasting prodigy on Aulis' sands. + Such was the will of Jove; and hence we dare + Trust in his omen, and support the war. + For while around we gazed with wondering eyes, + And trembling sought the powers with sacrifice, + Full of his god, the reverend Chalcas cried,(90) + 'Ye Grecian warriors! lay your fears aside. + This wondrous signal Jove himself displays, + Of long, long labours, but eternal praise. + As many birds as by the snake were slain, + So many years the toils of Greece remain; + But wait the tenth, for Ilion's fall decreed:' + Thus spoke the prophet, thus the Fates succeed. + Obey, ye Grecians! with submission wait, + Nor let your flight avert the Trojan fate." + He said: the shores with loud applauses sound, + The hollow ships each deafening shout rebound. + Then Nestor thus--"These vain debates forbear, + Ye talk like children, not like heroes dare. + Where now are all your high resolves at last? + Your leagues concluded, your engagements past? + Vow'd with libations and with victims then, + Now vanish'd like their smoke: the faith of men! + While useless words consume the unactive hours, + No wonder Troy so long resists our powers. + Rise, great Atrides! and with courage sway; + We march to war, if thou direct the way. + But leave the few that dare resist thy laws, + The mean deserters of the Grecian cause, + To grudge the conquests mighty Jove prepares, + And view with envy our successful wars. + On that great day, when first the martial train, + Big with the fate of Ilion, plough'd the main, + Jove, on the right, a prosperous signal sent, + And thunder rolling shook the firmament. + Encouraged hence, maintain the glorious strife, + Till every soldier grasp a Phrygian wife, + Till Helen's woes at full revenged appear, + And Troy's proud matrons render tear for tear. + Before that day, if any Greek invite + His country's troops to base, inglorious flight, + Stand forth that Greek! and hoist his sail to fly, + And die the dastard first, who dreads to die. + But now, O monarch! all thy chiefs advise:(91) + Nor what they offer, thou thyself despise. + Among those counsels, let not mine be vain; + In tribes and nations to divide thy train: + His separate troops let every leader call, + Each strengthen each, and all encourage all. + What chief, or soldier, of the numerous band, + Or bravely fights, or ill obeys command, + When thus distinct they war, shall soon be known + And what the cause of Ilion not o'erthrown; + If fate resists, or if our arms are slow, + If gods above prevent, or men below." + + To him the king: "How much thy years excel + In arts of counsel, and in speaking well! + O would the gods, in love to Greece, decree + But ten such sages as they grant in thee; + Such wisdom soon should Priam's force destroy, + And soon should fall the haughty towers of Troy! + But Jove forbids, who plunges those he hates + In fierce contention and in vain debates: + Now great Achilles from our aid withdraws, + By me provoked; a captive maid the cause: + If e'er as friends we join, the Trojan wall + Must shake, and heavy will the vengeance fall! + But now, ye warriors, take a short repast; + And, well refresh'd, to bloody conflict haste. + His sharpen'd spear let every Grecian wield, + And every Grecian fix his brazen shield, + Let all excite the fiery steeds of war, + And all for combat fit the rattling car. + This day, this dreadful day, let each contend; + No rest, no respite, till the shades descend; + Till darkness, or till death, shall cover all: + Let the war bleed, and let the mighty fall; + Till bathed in sweat be every manly breast, + With the huge shield each brawny arm depress'd, + Each aching nerve refuse the lance to throw, + And each spent courser at the chariot blow. + Who dares, inglorious, in his ships to stay, + Who dares to tremble on this signal day; + That wretch, too mean to fall by martial power, + The birds shall mangle, and the dogs devour." + + The monarch spoke; and straight a murmur rose, + Loud as the surges when the tempest blows, + That dash'd on broken rocks tumultuous roar, + And foam and thunder on the stony shore. + Straight to the tents the troops dispersing bend, + The fires are kindled, and the smokes ascend; + With hasty feasts they sacrifice, and pray, + To avert the dangers of the doubtful day. + A steer of five years' age, large limb'd, and fed,(92) + To Jove's high altars Agamemnon led: + There bade the noblest of the Grecian peers; + And Nestor first, as most advanced in years. + Next came Idomeneus,(93) + and Tydeus' son,(94) + Ajax the less, and Ajax Telamon;(95) + Then wise Ulysses in his rank was placed; + And Menelaus came, unbid, the last.(96) + The chiefs surround the destined beast, and take + The sacred offering of the salted cake: + When thus the king prefers his solemn prayer; + "O thou! whose thunder rends the clouded air, + Who in the heaven of heavens hast fixed thy throne, + Supreme of gods! unbounded, and alone! + Hear! and before the burning sun descends, + Before the night her gloomy veil extends, + Low in the dust be laid yon hostile spires, + Be Priam's palace sunk in Grecian fires. + In Hector's breast be plunged this shining sword, + And slaughter'd heroes groan around their lord!" + + Thus prayed the chief: his unavailing prayer + Great Jove refused, and toss'd in empty air: + The God averse, while yet the fumes arose, + Prepared new toils, and doubled woes on woes. + Their prayers perform'd the chiefs the rite pursue, + The barley sprinkled, and the victim slew. + The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide, + The thighs, selected to the gods, divide. + On these, in double cauls involved with art, + The choicest morsels lie from every part, + From the cleft wood the crackling flames aspires + While the fat victims feed the sacred fire. + The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dress'd + The assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest; + Then spread the tables, the repast prepare, + Each takes his seat, and each receives his share. + Soon as the rage of hunger was suppress'd, + The generous Nestor thus the prince address'd. + + "Now bid thy heralds sound the loud alarms, + And call the squadrons sheathed in brazen arms; + Now seize the occasion, now the troops survey, + And lead to war when heaven directs the way." + + He said; the monarch issued his commands; + Straight the loud heralds call the gathering bands + The chiefs inclose their king; the hosts divide, + In tribes and nations rank'd on either side. + High in the midst the blue-eyed virgin flies; + From rank to rank she darts her ardent eyes; + The dreadful aegis, Jove's immortal shield, + Blazed on her arm, and lighten'd all the field: + Round the vast orb a hundred serpents roll'd, + Form'd the bright fringe, and seem'd to burn in gold, + With this each Grecian's manly breast she warms, + Swells their bold hearts, and strings their nervous arms, + No more they sigh, inglorious, to return, + But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn. + + As on some mountain, through the lofty grove, + The crackling flames ascend, and blaze above; + The fires expanding, as the winds arise, + Shoot their long beams, and kindle half the skies: + So from the polish'd arms, and brazen shields, + A gleamy splendour flash'd along the fields. + Not less their number than the embodied cranes, + Or milk-white swans in Asius' watery plains. + That, o'er the windings of Cayster's springs,(97) + Stretch their long necks, and clap their rustling wings, + Now tower aloft, and course in airy rounds, + Now light with noise; with noise the field resounds. + Thus numerous and confused, extending wide, + The legions crowd Scamander's flowery side;(98) + With rushing troops the plains are cover'd o'er, + And thundering footsteps shake the sounding shore. + Along the river's level meads they stand, + Thick as in spring the flowers adorn the land, + Or leaves the trees; or thick as insects play, + The wandering nation of a summer's day: + That, drawn by milky steams, at evening hours, + In gather'd swarms surround the rural bowers; + From pail to pail with busy murmur run + The gilded legions, glittering in the sun. + So throng'd, so close, the Grecian squadrons stood + In radiant arms, and thirst for Trojan blood. + Each leader now his scatter'd force conjoins + In close array, and forms the deepening lines. + Not with more ease the skilful shepherd-swain + Collects his flocks from thousands on the plain. + The king of kings, majestically tall, + Towers o'er his armies, and outshines them all; + Like some proud bull, that round the pastures leads + His subject herds, the monarch of the meads, + Great as the gods, the exalted chief was seen, + His strength like Neptune, and like Mars his mien;(99) + Jove o'er his eyes celestial glories spread, + And dawning conquest played around his head. + + Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine, + All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine!(100) + Since earth's wide regions, heaven's umneasur'd height, + And hell's abyss, hide nothing from your sight, + (We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below, + But guess by rumour, and but boast we know,) + O say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame, + Or urged by wrongs, to Troy's destruction came. + To count them all, demands a thousand tongues, + A throat of brass, and adamantine lungs. + Daughters of Jove, assist! inspired by you + The mighty labour dauntless I pursue; + What crowded armies, from what climes they bring, + Their names, their numbers, and their chiefs I sing. + + THE CATALOGUE OF THE SHIPS.(101) + + [Illustration: NEPTUNE.] + + NEPTUNE. + + + The hardy warriors whom Boeotia bred, + Penelius, Leitus, Prothoenor, led: + With these Arcesilaus and Clonius stand, + Equal in arms, and equal in command. + These head the troops that rocky Aulis yields, + And Eteon's hills, and Hyrie's watery fields, + And Schoenos, Scholos, Graea near the main, + And Mycalessia's ample piny plain; + Those who in Peteon or Ilesion dwell, + Or Harma where Apollo's prophet fell; + Heleon and Hyle, which the springs o'erflow; + And Medeon lofty, and Ocalea low; + Or in the meads of Haliartus stray, + Or Thespia sacred to the god of day: + Onchestus, Neptune's celebrated groves; + Copae, and Thisbe, famed for silver doves; + For flocks Erythrae, Glissa for the vine; + Platea green, and Nysa the divine; + And they whom Thebe's well-built walls inclose, + Where Myde, Eutresis, Corone, rose; + And Arne rich, with purple harvests crown'd; + And Anthedon, Boeotia's utmost bound. + Full fifty ships they send, and each conveys + Twice sixty warriors through the foaming seas.(102) + + To these succeed Aspledon's martial train, + Who plough the spacious Orchomenian plain. + Two valiant brothers rule the undaunted throng, + Ialmen and Ascalaphus the strong: + Sons of Astyoche, the heavenly fair, + Whose virgin charms subdued the god of war: + (In Actor's court as she retired to rest, + The strength of Mars the blushing maid compress'd) + Their troops in thirty sable vessels sweep, + With equal oars, the hoarse-resounding deep. + + The Phocians next in forty barks repair; + Epistrophus and Schedius head the war: + From those rich regions where Cephisus leads + His silver current through the flowery meads; + From Panopea, Chrysa the divine, + Where Anemoria's stately turrets shine, + Where Pytho, Daulis, Cyparissus stood, + And fair Lilaea views the rising flood. + These, ranged in order on the floating tide, + Close, on the left, the bold Boeotians' side. + + Fierce Ajax led the Locrian squadrons on, + Ajax the less, Oileus' valiant son; + Skill'd to direct the flying dart aright; + Swift in pursuit, and active in the fight. + Him, as their chief, the chosen troops attend, + Which Bessa, Thronus, and rich Cynos send; + Opus, Calliarus, and Scarphe's bands; + And those who dwell where pleasing Augia stands, + And where Boagrius floats the lowly lands, + Or in fair Tarphe's sylvan seats reside: + In forty vessels cut the yielding tide. + + Euboea next her martial sons prepares, + And sends the brave Abantes to the wars: + Breathing revenge, in arms they take their way + From Chalcis' walls, and strong Eretria; + The Isteian fields for generous vines renown'd, + The fair Caristos, and the Styrian ground; + Where Dios from her towers o'erlooks the plain, + And high Cerinthus views the neighbouring main. + Down their broad shoulders falls a length of hair; + Their hands dismiss not the long lance in air; + But with protended spears in fighting fields + Pierce the tough corslets and the brazen shields. + Twice twenty ships transport the warlike bands, + Which bold Elphenor, fierce in arms, commands. + + Full fifty more from Athens stem the main, + Led by Menestheus through the liquid plain. + (Athens the fair, where great Erectheus sway'd, + That owed his nurture to the blue-eyed maid, + But from the teeming furrow took his birth, + The mighty offspring of the foodful earth. + Him Pallas placed amidst her wealthy fane, + Adored with sacrifice and oxen slain; + Where, as the years revolve, her altars blaze, + And all the tribes resound the goddess' praise.) + No chief like thee, Menestheus! Greece could yield, + To marshal armies in the dusty field, + The extended wings of battle to display, + Or close the embodied host in firm array. + Nestor alone, improved by length of days, + For martial conduct bore an equal praise. + + With these appear the Salaminian bands, + Whom the gigantic Telamon commands; + In twelve black ships to Troy they steer their course, + And with the great Athenians join their force. + + Next move to war the generous Argive train, + From high Troezene, and Maseta's plain, + And fair AEgina circled by the main: + Whom strong Tyrinthe's lofty walls surround, + And Epidaure with viny harvests crown'd: + And where fair Asinen and Hermoin show + Their cliffs above, and ample bay below. + These by the brave Euryalus were led, + Great Sthenelus, and greater Diomed; + But chief Tydides bore the sovereign sway: + In fourscore barks they plough the watery way. + + The proud Mycene arms her martial powers, + Cleone, Corinth, with imperial towers,(103) + Fair Araethyrea, Ornia's fruitful plain, + And AEgion, and Adrastus' ancient reign; + And those who dwell along the sandy shore, + And where Pellene yields her fleecy store, + Where Helice and Hyperesia lie, + And Gonoessa's spires salute the sky. + Great Agamemnon rules the numerous band, + A hundred vessels in long order stand, + And crowded nations wait his dread command. + High on the deck the king of men appears, + And his refulgent arms in triumph wears; + Proud of his host, unrivall'd in his reign, + In silent pomp he moves along the main. + + His brother follows, and to vengeance warms + The hardy Spartans, exercised in arms: + Phares and Brysia's valiant troops, and those + Whom Lacedaemon's lofty hills inclose; + Or Messe's towers for silver doves renown'd, + Amyclae, Laas, Augia's happy ground, + And those whom OEtylos' low walls contain, + And Helos, on the margin of the main: + These, o'er the bending ocean, Helen's cause, + In sixty ships with Menelaus draws: + Eager and loud from man to man he flies, + Revenge and fury flaming in his eyes; + While vainly fond, in fancy oft he hears + The fair one's grief, and sees her falling tears. + + In ninety sail, from Pylos' sandy coast, + Nestor the sage conducts his chosen host: + From Amphigenia's ever-fruitful land, + Where AEpy high, and little Pteleon stand; + Where beauteous Arene her structures shows, + And Thryon's walls Alpheus' streams inclose: + And Dorion, famed for Thamyris' disgrace, + Superior once of all the tuneful race, + Till, vain of mortals' empty praise, he strove + To match the seed of cloud-compelling Jove! + Too daring bard! whose unsuccessful pride + The immortal Muses in their art defied. + The avenging Muses of the light of day + Deprived his eyes, and snatch'd his voice away; + No more his heavenly voice was heard to sing, + His hand no more awaked the silver string. + + Where under high Cyllene, crown'd with wood, + The shaded tomb of old AEpytus stood; + From Ripe, Stratie, Tegea's bordering towns, + The Phenean fields, and Orchomenian downs, + Where the fat herds in plenteous pasture rove; + And Stymphelus with her surrounding grove; + Parrhasia, on her snowy cliffs reclined, + And high Enispe shook by wintry wind, + And fair Mantinea's ever-pleasing site; + In sixty sail the Arcadian bands unite. + Bold Agapenor, glorious at their head, + (Ancaeus' son) the mighty squadron led. + Their ships, supplied by Agamemnon's care, + Through roaring seas the wondering warriors bear; + The first to battle on the appointed plain, + But new to all the dangers of the main. + + Those, where fair Elis and Buprasium join; + Whom Hyrmin, here, and Myrsinus confine, + And bounded there, where o'er the valleys rose + The Olenian rock; and where Alisium flows; + Beneath four chiefs (a numerous army) came: + The strength and glory of the Epean name. + In separate squadrons these their train divide, + Each leads ten vessels through the yielding tide. + One was Amphimachus, and Thalpius one; + (Eurytus' this, and that Teatus' son;) + Diores sprung from Amarynceus' line; + And great Polyxenus, of force divine. + + But those who view fair Elis o'er the seas + From the blest islands of the Echinades, + In forty vessels under Meges move, + Begot by Phyleus, the beloved of Jove: + To strong Dulichium from his sire he fled, + And thence to Troy his hardy warriors led. + + Ulysses follow'd through the watery road, + A chief, in wisdom equal to a god. + With those whom Cephalenia's line inclosed, + Or till their fields along the coast opposed; + Or where fair Ithaca o'erlooks the floods, + Where high Neritos shakes his waving woods, + Where AEgilipa's rugged sides are seen, + Crocylia rocky, and Zacynthus green. + These in twelve galleys with vermilion prores, + Beneath his conduct sought the Phrygian shores. + + Thoas came next, Andraemon's valiant son, + From Pleuron's walls, and chalky Calydon, + And rough Pylene, and the Olenian steep, + And Chalcis, beaten by the rolling deep. + He led the warriors from the AEtolian shore, + For now the sons of OEneus were no more! + The glories of the mighty race were fled! + OEneus himself, and Meleager dead! + To Thoas' care now trust the martial train, + His forty vessels follow through the main. + + Next, eighty barks the Cretan king commands, + Of Gnossus, Lyctus, and Gortyna's bands; + And those who dwell where Rhytion's domes arise, + Or white Lycastus glitters to the skies, + Or where by Phaestus silver Jardan runs; + Crete's hundred cities pour forth all her sons. + These march'd, Idomeneus, beneath thy care, + And Merion, dreadful as the god of war. + + Tlepolemus, the sun of Hercules, + Led nine swift vessels through the foamy seas, + From Rhodes, with everlasting sunshine bright, + Jalyssus, Lindus, and Camirus white. + His captive mother fierce Alcides bore + From Ephyr's walls and Selle's winding shore, + Where mighty towns in ruins spread the plain, + And saw their blooming warriors early slain. + The hero, when to manly years he grew, + Alcides' uncle, old Licymnius, slew; + For this, constrain'd to quit his native place, + And shun the vengeance of the Herculean race, + A fleet he built, and with a numerous train + Of willing exiles wander'd o'er the main; + Where, many seas and many sufferings past, + On happy Rhodes the chief arrived at last: + There in three tribes divides his native band, + And rules them peaceful in a foreign land; + Increased and prosper'd in their new abodes + By mighty Jove, the sire of men and gods; + With joy they saw the growing empire rise, + And showers of wealth descending from the skies. + + Three ships with Nireus sought the Trojan shore, + Nireus, whom Aglae to Charopus bore, + Nireus, in faultless shape and blooming grace, + The loveliest youth of all the Grecian race;(104) + Pelides only match'd his early charms; + But few his troops, and small his strength in arms. + + Next thirty galleys cleave the liquid plain, + Of those Calydnae's sea-girt isles contain; + With them the youth of Nisyrus repair, + Casus the strong, and Crapathus the fair; + Cos, where Eurypylus possess'd the sway, + Till great Alcides made the realms obey: + These Antiphus and bold Phidippus bring, + Sprung from the god by Thessalus the king. + + Now, Muse, recount Pelasgic Argos' powers, + From Alos, Alope, and Trechin's towers: + From Phthia's spacious vales; and Hella, bless'd + With female beauty far beyond the rest. + Full fifty ships beneath Achilles' care, + The Achaians, Myrmidons, Hellenians bear; + Thessalians all, though various in their name; + The same their nation, and their chief the same. + But now inglorious, stretch'd along the shore, + They hear the brazen voice of war no more; + No more the foe they face in dire array: + Close in his fleet the angry leader lay; + Since fair Briseis from his arms was torn, + The noblest spoil from sack'd Lyrnessus borne, + Then, when the chief the Theban walls o'erthrew, + And the bold sons of great Evenus slew. + There mourn'd Achilles, plunged in depth of care, + But soon to rise in slaughter, blood, and war. + + To these the youth of Phylace succeed, + Itona, famous for her fleecy breed, + And grassy Pteleon deck'd with cheerful greens, + The bowers of Ceres, and the sylvan scenes. + Sweet Pyrrhasus, with blooming flowerets crown'd, + And Antron's watery dens, and cavern'd ground. + These own'd, as chief, Protesilas the brave, + Who now lay silent in the gloomy grave: + The first who boldly touch'd the Trojan shore, + And dyed a Phrygian lance with Grecian gore; + There lies, far distant from his native plain; + Unfinish'd his proud palaces remain, + And his sad consort beats her breast in vain. + His troops in forty ships Podarces led, + Iphiclus' son, and brother to the dead; + Nor he unworthy to command the host; + Yet still they mourn'd their ancient leader lost. + + The men who Glaphyra's fair soil partake, + Where hills incircle Boebe's lowly lake, + Where Phaere hears the neighbouring waters fall, + Or proud Iolcus lifts her airy wall, + In ten black ships embark'd for Ilion's shore, + With bold Eumelus, whom Alceste bore: + All Pelias' race Alceste far outshined, + The grace and glory of the beauteous kind, + + The troops Methone or Thaumacia yields, + Olizon's rocks, or Meliboea's fields, + With Philoctetes sail'd whose matchless art + From the tough bow directs the feather'd dart. + Seven were his ships; each vessel fifty row, + Skill'd in his science of the dart and bow. + But he lay raging on the Lemnian ground, + A poisonous hydra gave the burning wound; + There groan'd the chief in agonizing pain, + Whom Greece at length shall wish, nor wish in vain. + His forces Medon led from Lemnos' shore, + Oileus' son, whom beauteous Rhena bore. + + The OEchalian race, in those high towers contain'd + Where once Eurytus in proud triumph reign'd, + Or where her humbler turrets Tricca rears, + Or where Ithome, rough with rocks, appears, + In thirty sail the sparkling waves divide, + Which Podalirius and Machaon guide. + To these his skill their parent-god imparts, + Divine professors of the healing arts. + + The bold Ormenian and Asterian bands + In forty barks Eurypylus commands. + Where Titan hides his hoary head in snow, + And where Hyperia's silver fountains flow. + Thy troops, Argissa, Polypoetes leads, + And Eleon, shelter'd by Olympus' shades, + Gyrtone's warriors; and where Orthe lies, + And Oloosson's chalky cliffs arise. + Sprung from Pirithous of immortal race, + The fruit of fair Hippodame's embrace, + (That day, when hurl'd from Pelion's cloudy head, + To distant dens the shaggy Centaurs fled) + With Polypoetes join'd in equal sway + Leonteus leads, and forty ships obey. + + In twenty sail the bold Perrhaebians came + From Cyphus, Guneus was their leader's name. + With these the Enians join'd, and those who freeze + Where cold Dodona lifts her holy trees; + Or where the pleasing Titaresius glides, + And into Peneus rolls his easy tides; + Yet o'er the silvery surface pure they flow, + The sacred stream unmix'd with streams below, + Sacred and awful! from the dark abodes + Styx pours them forth, the dreadful oath of gods! + + Last, under Prothous the Magnesians stood, + (Prothous the swift, of old Tenthredon's blood;) + Who dwell where Pelion, crown'd with piny boughs, + Obscures the glade, and nods his shaggy brows; + Or where through flowery Tempe Peneus stray'd: + (The region stretch'd beneath his mighty shade:) + In forty sable barks they stemm'd the main; + Such were the chiefs, and such the Grecian train. + + Say next, O Muse! of all Achaia breeds, + Who bravest fought, or rein'd the noblest steeds? + Eumelus' mares were foremost in the chase, + As eagles fleet, and of Pheretian race; + Bred where Pieria's fruitful fountains flow, + And train'd by him who bears the silver bow. + Fierce in the fight their nostrils breathed a flame, + Their height, their colour, and their age the same; + O'er fields of death they whirl the rapid car, + And break the ranks, and thunder through the war. + Ajax in arms the first renown acquired, + While stern Achilles in his wrath retired: + (His was the strength that mortal might exceeds, + And his the unrivall'd race of heavenly steeds:) + But Thetis' son now shines in arms no more; + His troops, neglected on the sandy shore. + In empty air their sportive javelins throw, + Or whirl the disk, or bend an idle bow: + Unstain'd with blood his cover'd chariots stand; + The immortal coursers graze along the strand; + But the brave chiefs the inglorious life deplored, + And, wandering o'er the camp, required their lord. + + Now, like a deluge, covering all around, + The shining armies sweep along the ground; + Swift as a flood of fire, when storms arise, + Floats the wild field, and blazes to the skies. + Earth groan'd beneath them; as when angry Jove + Hurls down the forky lightning from above, + On Arime when he the thunder throws, + And fires Typhoeus with redoubled blows, + Where Typhon, press'd beneath the burning load, + Still feels the fury of the avenging god. + + But various Iris, Jove's commands to bear, + Speeds on the wings of winds through liquid air; + In Priam's porch the Trojan chiefs she found, + The old consulting, and the youths around. + Polites' shape, the monarch's son, she chose, + Who from AEsetes' tomb observed the foes,(105) + High on the mound; from whence in prospect lay + The fields, the tents, the navy, and the bay. + In this dissembled form, she hastes to bring + The unwelcome message to the Phrygian king. + + "Cease to consult, the time for action calls; + War, horrid war, approaches to your walls! + Assembled armies oft have I beheld; + But ne'er till now such numbers charged a field: + Thick as autumnal leaves or driving sand, + The moving squadrons blacken all the strand. + Thou, godlike Hector! all thy force employ, + Assemble all the united bands of Troy; + In just array let every leader call + The foreign troops: this day demands them all!" + + The voice divine the mighty chief alarms; + The council breaks, the warriors rush to arms. + The gates unfolding pour forth all their train, + Nations on nations fill the dusky plain, + Men, steeds, and chariots, shake the trembling ground: + The tumult thickens, and the skies resound. + + Amidst the plain, in sight of Ilion, stands + A rising mount, the work of human hands; + (This for Myrinne's tomb the immortals know, + Though call'd Bateia in the world below;) + Beneath their chiefs in martial order here, + The auxiliar troops and Trojan hosts appear. + + The godlike Hector, high above the rest, + Shakes his huge spear, and nods his plumy crest: + In throngs around his native bands repair, + And groves of lances glitter in the air. + + Divine AEneas brings the Dardan race, + Anchises' son, by Venus' stolen embrace, + Born in the shades of Ida's secret grove; + (A mortal mixing with the queen of love;) + Archilochus and Acamas divide + The warrior's toils, and combat by his side. + + Who fair Zeleia's wealthy valleys till,(106) + Fast by the foot of Ida's sacred hill, + Or drink, AEsepus, of thy sable flood, + Were led by Pandarus, of royal blood; + To whom his art Apollo deign'd to show, + Graced with the presents of his shafts and bow. + + From rich Apaesus and Adrestia's towers, + High Teree's summits, and Pityea's bowers; + From these the congregated troops obey + Young Amphius and Adrastus' equal sway; + Old Merops' sons; whom, skill'd in fates to come, + The sire forewarn'd, and prophesied their doom: + Fate urged them on! the sire forewarn'd in vain, + They rush'd to war, and perish'd on the plain. + + From Practius' stream, Percote's pasture lands, + And Sestos and Abydos' neighbouring strands, + From great Arisba's walls and Selle's coast, + Asius Hyrtacides conducts his host: + High on his car he shakes the flowing reins, + His fiery coursers thunder o'er the plains. + + The fierce Pelasgi next, in war renown'd, + March from Larissa's ever-fertile ground: + In equal arms their brother leaders shine, + Hippothous bold, and Pyleus the divine. + + Next Acamas and Pyrous lead their hosts, + In dread array, from Thracia's wintry coasts; + Round the bleak realms where Hellespontus roars, + And Boreas beats the hoarse-resounding shores. + + With great Euphemus the Ciconians move, + Sprung from Troezenian Ceus, loved by Jove. + + Pyraechmes the Paeonian troops attend, + Skill'd in the fight their crooked bows to bend; + From Axius' ample bed he leads them on, + Axius, that laves the distant Amydon, + Axius, that swells with all his neighbouring rills, + And wide around the floating region fills. + + The Paphlagonians Pylaemenes rules, + Where rich Henetia breeds her savage mules, + Where Erythinus' rising cliffs are seen, + Thy groves of box, Cytorus! ever green, + And where AEgialus and Cromna lie, + And lofty Sesamus invades the sky, + And where Parthenius, roll'd through banks of flowers, + Reflects her bordering palaces and bowers. + + Here march'd in arms the Halizonian band, + Whom Odius and Epistrophus command, + From those far regions where the sun refines + The ripening silver in Alybean mines. + + There mighty Chromis led the Mysian train, + And augur Ennomus, inspired in vain; + For stern Achilles lopp'd his sacred head, + Roll'd down Scamander with the vulgar dead. + + Phorcys and brave Ascanius here unite + The Ascanian Phrygians, eager for the fight. + + Of those who round Maeonia's realms reside, + Or whom the vales in shades of Tmolus hide, + Mestles and Antiphus the charge partake, + Born on the banks of Gyges' silent lake. + There, from the fields where wild Maeander flows, + High Mycale, and Latmos' shady brows, + And proud Miletus, came the Carian throngs, + With mingled clamours and with barbarous tongues.(107) + Amphimachus and Naustes guide the train, + Naustes the bold, Amphimachus the vain, + Who, trick'd with gold, and glittering on his car, + Rode like a woman to the field of war. + Fool that he was! by fierce Achilles slain, + The river swept him to the briny main: + There whelm'd with waves the gaudy warrior lies + The valiant victor seized the golden prize. + + The forces last in fair array succeed, + Which blameless Glaucus and Sarpedon lead + The warlike bands that distant Lycia yields, + Where gulfy Xanthus foams along the fields. + + + + + +BOOK III. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE DUEL OF MENELAUS AND PARIS. + +The armies being ready to engage, a single combat is agreed upon between +Menelaus and Paris (by the intervention of Hector) for the determination +of the war. Iris is sent to call Helen to behold the fight. She leads her +to the walls of Troy, where Priam sat with his counsellers observing the +Grecian leaders on the plain below, to whom Helen gives an account of the +chief of them. The kings on either part take the solemn oath for the +conditions of the combat. The duel ensues; wherein Paris being overcome, +he is snatched away in a cloud by Venus, and transported to his apartment. +She then calls Helen from the walls, and brings the lovers together. +Agamemnon, on the part of the Grecians, demands the restoration of Helen, +and the performance of the articles. + +The three-and-twentieth day still continues throughout this book. The +scene is sometimes in the fields before Troy, and sometimes in Troy +itself. + + Thus by their leaders' care each martial band + Moves into ranks, and stretches o'er the land. + With shouts the Trojans, rushing from afar, + Proclaim their motions, and provoke the war + So when inclement winters vex the plain + With piercing frosts, or thick-descending rain, + To warmer seas the cranes embodied fly,(108) + With noise, and order, through the midway sky; + To pigmy nations wounds and death they bring, + And all the war descends upon the wing, + But silent, breathing rage, resolved and skill'd(109) + By mutual aids to fix a doubtful field, + Swift march the Greeks: the rapid dust around + Darkening arises from the labour'd ground. + Thus from his flaggy wings when Notus sheds + A night of vapours round the mountain heads, + Swift-gliding mists the dusky fields invade, + To thieves more grateful than the midnight shade; + While scarce the swains their feeding flocks survey, + Lost and confused amidst the thicken'd day: + So wrapp'd in gathering dust, the Grecian train, + A moving cloud, swept on, and hid the plain. + + Now front to front the hostile armies stand, + Eager of fight, and only wait command; + When, to the van, before the sons of fame + Whom Troy sent forth, the beauteous Paris came: + In form a god! the panther's speckled hide + Flow'd o'er his armour with an easy pride: + His bended bow across his shoulders flung, + His sword beside him negligently hung; + Two pointed spears he shook with gallant grace, + And dared the bravest of the Grecian race. + + As thus, with glorious air and proud disdain, + He boldly stalk'd, the foremost on the plain, + Him Menelaus, loved of Mars, espies, + With heart elated, and with joyful eyes: + So joys a lion, if the branching deer, + Or mountain goat, his bulky prize, appear; + Eager he seizes and devours the slain, + Press'd by bold youths and baying dogs in vain. + Thus fond of vengeance, with a furious bound, + In clanging arms he leaps upon the ground + From his high chariot: him, approaching near, + The beauteous champion views with marks of fear, + Smit with a conscious sense, retires behind, + And shuns the fate he well deserved to find. + As when some shepherd, from the rustling trees(110) + Shot forth to view, a scaly serpent sees, + Trembling and pale, he starts with wild affright + And all confused precipitates his flight: + So from the king the shining warrior flies, + And plunged amid the thickest Trojans lies. + + As godlike Hector sees the prince retreat, + He thus upbraids him with a generous heat: + "Unhappy Paris! but to women brave!(111) + So fairly form'd, and only to deceive! + Oh, hadst thou died when first thou saw'st the light, + Or died at least before thy nuptial rite! + A better fate than vainly thus to boast, + And fly, the scandal of thy Trojan host. + Gods! how the scornful Greeks exult to see + Their fears of danger undeceived in thee! + Thy figure promised with a martial air, + But ill thy soul supplies a form so fair. + In former days, in all thy gallant pride, + When thy tall ships triumphant stemm'd the tide, + When Greece beheld thy painted canvas flow, + And crowds stood wondering at the passing show, + Say, was it thus, with such a baffled mien, + You met the approaches of the Spartan queen, + Thus from her realm convey'd the beauteous prize, + And both her warlike lords outshined in Helen's eyes? + This deed, thy foes' delight, thy own disgrace, + Thy father's grief, and ruin of thy race; + This deed recalls thee to the proffer'd fight; + Or hast thou injured whom thou dar'st not right? + Soon to thy cost the field would make thee know + Thou keep'st the consort of a braver foe. + Thy graceful form instilling soft desire, + Thy curling tresses, and thy silver lyre, + Beauty and youth; in vain to these you trust, + When youth and beauty shall be laid in dust: + Troy yet may wake, and one avenging blow + Crush the dire author of his country's woe." + + His silence here, with blushes, Paris breaks: + "'Tis just, my brother, what your anger speaks: + But who like thee can boast a soul sedate, + So firmly proof to all the shocks of fate? + Thy force, like steel, a temper'd hardness shows, + Still edged to wound, and still untired with blows, + Like steel, uplifted by some strenuous swain, + With falling woods to strew the wasted plain. + Thy gifts I praise; nor thou despise the charms + With which a lover golden Venus arms; + Soft moving speech, and pleasing outward show, + No wish can gain them, but the gods bestow. + Yet, would'st thou have the proffer'd combat stand, + The Greeks and Trojans seat on either hand; + Then let a midway space our hosts divide, + And, on that stage of war, the cause be tried: + By Paris there the Spartan king be fought, + For beauteous Helen and the wealth she brought; + And who his rival can in arms subdue, + His be the fair, and his the treasure too. + Thus with a lasting league your toils may cease, + And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace; + Thus may the Greeks review their native shore, + Much famed for generous steeds, for beauty more." + + He said. The challenge Hector heard with joy, + Then with his spear restrain'd the youth of Troy, + Held by the midst, athwart; and near the foe + Advanced with steps majestically slow: + While round his dauntless head the Grecians pour + Their stones and arrows in a mingled shower. + + Then thus the monarch, great Atrides, cried: + "Forbear, ye warriors! lay the darts aside: + A parley Hector asks, a message bears; + We know him by the various plume he wears." + Awed by his high command the Greeks attend, + The tumult silence, and the fight suspend. + + While from the centre Hector rolls his eyes + On either host, and thus to both applies: + "Hear, all ye Trojan, all ye Grecian bands, + What Paris, author of the war, demands. + Your shining swords within the sheath restrain, + And pitch your lances in the yielding plain. + Here in the midst, in either army's sight, + He dares the Spartan king to single fight; + And wills that Helen and the ravish'd spoil, + That caused the contest, shall reward the toil. + Let these the brave triumphant victor grace, + And different nations part in leagues of peace." + + He spoke: in still suspense on either side + Each army stood: the Spartan chief replied: + + "Me too, ye warriors, hear, whose fatal right + A world engages in the toils of fight. + To me the labour of the field resign; + Me Paris injured; all the war be mine. + Fall he that must, beneath his rival's arms; + And live the rest, secure of future harms. + Two lambs, devoted by your country's rite, + To earth a sable, to the sun a white, + Prepare, ye Trojans! while a third we bring + Select to Jove, the inviolable king. + Let reverend Priam in the truce engage, + And add the sanction of considerate age; + His sons are faithless, headlong in debate, + And youth itself an empty wavering state; + Cool age advances, venerably wise, + Turns on all hands its deep-discerning eyes; + Sees what befell, and what may yet befall, + Concludes from both, and best provides for all. + + The nations hear with rising hopes possess'd, + And peaceful prospects dawn in every breast. + Within the lines they drew their steeds around, + And from their chariots issued on the ground; + Next, all unbuckling the rich mail they wore, + Laid their bright arms along the sable shore. + On either side the meeting hosts are seen + With lances fix'd, and close the space between. + Two heralds now, despatch'd to Troy, invite + The Phrygian monarch to the peaceful rite. + + Talthybius hastens to the fleet, to bring + The lamb for Jove, the inviolable king. + + Meantime to beauteous Helen, from the skies + The various goddess of the rainbow flies: + (Like fair Laodice in form and face, + The loveliest nymph of Priam's royal race:) + Her in the palace, at her loom she found; + The golden web her own sad story crown'd, + The Trojan wars she weaved (herself the prize) + And the dire triumphs of her fatal eyes. + To whom the goddess of the painted bow: + "Approach, and view the wondrous scene below!(112) + Each hardy Greek, and valiant Trojan knight, + So dreadful late, and furious for the fight, + Now rest their spears, or lean upon their shields; + Ceased is the war, and silent all the fields. + Paris alone and Sparta's king advance, + In single fight to toss the beamy lance; + Each met in arms, the fate of combat tries, + Thy love the motive, and thy charms the prize." + + This said, the many-coloured maid inspires + Her husband's love, and wakes her former fires; + Her country, parents, all that once were dear, + Rush to her thought, and force a tender tear, + O'er her fair face a snowy veil she threw, + And, softly sighing, from the loom withdrew. + Her handmaids, Clymene and AEthra, wait + Her silent footsteps to the Scaean gate. + + There sat the seniors of the Trojan race: + (Old Priam's chiefs, and most in Priam's grace,) + The king the first; Thymoetes at his side; + Lampus and Clytius, long in council tried; + Panthus, and Hicetaon, once the strong; + And next, the wisest of the reverend throng, + Antenor grave, and sage Ucalegon, + Lean'd on the walls and bask'd before the sun: + Chiefs, who no more in bloody fights engage, + But wise through time, and narrative with age, + In summer days, like grasshoppers rejoice, + A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice. + These, when the Spartan queen approach'd the tower, + In secret own'd resistless beauty's power: + They cried, "No wonder such celestial charms(113) + For nine long years have set the world in arms; + What winning graces! what majestic mien! + She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen! + Yet hence, O Heaven, convey that fatal face, + And from destruction save the Trojan race." + + The good old Priam welcomed her, and cried, + "Approach, my child, and grace thy father's side. + See on the plain thy Grecian spouse appears, + The friends and kindred of thy former years. + No crime of thine our present sufferings draws, + Not thou, but Heaven's disposing will, the cause + The gods these armies and this force employ, + The hostile gods conspire the fate of Troy. + But lift thy eyes, and say, what Greek is he + (Far as from hence these aged orbs can see) + Around whose brow such martial graces shine, + So tall, so awful, and almost divine! + Though some of larger stature tread the green, + None match his grandeur and exalted mien: + He seems a monarch, and his country's pride." + Thus ceased the king, and thus the fair replied: + + "Before thy presence, father, I appear, + With conscious shame and reverential fear. + Ah! had I died, ere to these walk I fled, + False to my country, and my nuptial bed; + My brothers, friends, and daughter left behind, + False to them all, to Paris only kind! + For this I mourn, till grief or dire disease + Shall waste the form whose fault it was to please! + The king of kings, Atrides, you survey, + Great in the war, and great in arts of sway: + My brother once, before my days of shame! + And oh! that still he bore a brother's name!" + + With wonder Priam view'd the godlike man, + Extoll'd the happy prince, and thus began: + "O bless'd Atrides! born to prosperous fate, + Successful monarch of a mighty state! + How vast thy empire! Of your matchless train + What numbers lost, what numbers yet remain! + In Phrygia once were gallant armies known, + In ancient time, when Otreus fill'd the throne, + When godlike Mygdon led their troops of horse, + And I, to join them, raised the Trojan force: + Against the manlike Amazons we stood,(114) + And Sangar's stream ran purple with their blood. + But far inferior those, in martial grace, + And strength of numbers, to this Grecian race." + + This said, once more he view'd the warrior train; + "What's he, whose arms lie scatter'd on the plain? + Broad is his breast, his shoulders larger spread, + Though great Atrides overtops his head. + Nor yet appear his care and conduct small; + From rank to rank he moves, and orders all. + The stately ram thus measures o'er the ground, + And, master of the flock, surveys them round." + + Then Helen thus: "Whom your discerning eyes + Have singled out, is Ithacus the wise; + A barren island boasts his glorious birth; + His fame for wisdom fills the spacious earth." + + Antenor took the word, and thus began:(115) + "Myself, O king! have seen that wondrous man + When, trusting Jove and hospitable laws, + To Troy he came, to plead the Grecian cause; + (Great Menelaus urged the same request;) + My house was honour'd with each royal guest: + I knew their persons, and admired their parts, + Both brave in arms, and both approved in arts. + Erect, the Spartan most engaged our view; + Ulysses seated, greater reverence drew. + When Atreus' son harangued the listening train, + Just was his sense, and his expression plain, + His words succinct, yet full, without a fault; + He spoke no more than just the thing he ought. + But when Ulysses rose, in thought profound,(116) + His modest eyes he fix'd upon the ground; + As one unskill'd or dumb, he seem'd to stand, + Nor raised his head, nor stretch'd his sceptred hand; + But, when he speaks, what elocution flows! + Soft as the fleeces of descending snows,(117) + The copious accents fall, with easy art; + Melting they fall, and sink into the heart! + Wondering we hear, and fix'd in deep surprise, + Our ears refute the censure of our eyes." + + The king then ask'd (as yet the camp he view'd) + "What chief is that, with giant strength endued, + Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swelling chest, + And lofty stature, far exceed the rest? + "Ajax the great, (the beauteous queen replied,) + Himself a host: the Grecian strength and pride. + See! bold Idomeneus superior towers + Amid yon circle of his Cretan powers, + Great as a god! I saw him once before, + With Menelaus on the Spartan shore. + The rest I know, and could in order name; + All valiant chiefs, and men of mighty fame. + Yet two are wanting of the numerous train, + Whom long my eyes have sought, but sought in vain: + Castor and Pollux, first in martial force, + One bold on foot, and one renown'd for horse. + My brothers these; the same our native shore, + One house contain'd us, as one mother bore. + Perhaps the chiefs, from warlike toils at ease, + For distant Troy refused to sail the seas; + Perhaps their swords some nobler quarrel draws, + Ashamed to combat in their sister's cause." + + So spoke the fair, nor knew her brothers' doom;(118) + Wrapt in the cold embraces of the tomb; + Adorn'd with honours in their native shore, + Silent they slept, and heard of wars no more. + + Meantime the heralds, through the crowded town. + Bring the rich wine and destined victims down. + Idaeus' arms the golden goblets press'd,(119) + Who thus the venerable king address'd: + "Arise, O father of the Trojan state! + The nations call, thy joyful people wait + To seal the truce, and end the dire debate. + Paris, thy son, and Sparta's king advance, + In measured lists to toss the weighty lance; + And who his rival shall in arms subdue, + His be the dame, and his the treasure too. + Thus with a lasting league our toils may cease, + And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace: + So shall the Greeks review their native shore, + Much famed for generous steeds, for beauty more." + + With grief he heard, and bade the chiefs prepare + To join his milk-white coursers to the car; + He mounts the seat, Antenor at his side; + The gentle steeds through Scaea's gates they guide:(120) + Next from the car descending on the plain, + Amid the Grecian host and Trojan train, + Slow they proceed: the sage Ulysses then + Arose, and with him rose the king of men. + On either side a sacred herald stands, + The wine they mix, and on each monarch's hands + Pour the full urn; then draws the Grecian lord + His cutlass sheathed beside his ponderous sword; + From the sign'd victims crops the curling hair;(121) + The heralds part it, and the princes share; + Then loudly thus before the attentive bands + He calls the gods, and spreads his lifted hands: + + "O first and greatest power! whom all obey, + Who high on Ida's holy mountain sway, + Eternal Jove! and you bright orb that roll + From east to west, and view from pole to pole! + Thou mother Earth! and all ye living floods! + Infernal furies, and Tartarean gods, + Who rule the dead, and horrid woes prepare + For perjured kings, and all who falsely swear! + Hear, and be witness. If, by Paris slain, + Great Menelaus press the fatal plain; + The dame and treasures let the Trojan keep, + And Greece returning plough the watery deep. + If by my brother's lance the Trojan bleed, + Be his the wealth and beauteous dame decreed: + The appointed fine let Ilion justly pay, + And every age record the signal day. + This if the Phrygians shall refuse to yield, + Arms must revenge, and Mars decide the field." + + With that the chief the tender victims slew, + And in the dust their bleeding bodies threw; + The vital spirit issued at the wound, + And left the members quivering on the ground. + From the same urn they drink the mingled wine, + And add libations to the powers divine. + While thus their prayers united mount the sky, + "Hear, mighty Jove! and hear, ye gods on high! + And may their blood, who first the league confound, + Shed like this wine, disdain the thirsty ground; + May all their consorts serve promiscuous lust, + And all their lust be scatter'd as the dust!" + Thus either host their imprecations join'd, + Which Jove refused, and mingled with the wind. + + The rites now finish'd, reverend Priam rose, + And thus express'd a heart o'ercharged with woes: + "Ye Greeks and Trojans, let the chiefs engage, + But spare the weakness of my feeble age: + In yonder walls that object let me shun, + Nor view the danger of so dear a son. + Whose arms shall conquer and what prince shall fall, + Heaven only knows; for heaven disposes all." + + This said, the hoary king no longer stay'd, + But on his car the slaughter'd victims laid: + Then seized the reins his gentle steeds to guide, + And drove to Troy, Antenor at his side. + + Bold Hector and Ulysses now dispose + The lists of combat, and the ground inclose: + Next to decide, by sacred lots prepare, + Who first shall launch his pointed spear in air. + The people pray with elevated hands, + And words like these are heard through all the bands: + "Immortal Jove, high Heaven's superior lord, + On lofty Ida's holy mount adored! + Whoe'er involved us in this dire debate, + O give that author of the war to fate + And shades eternal! let division cease, + And joyful nations join in leagues of peace." + + With eyes averted Hector hastes to turn + The lots of fight and shakes the brazen urn. + Then, Paris, thine leap'd forth; by fatal chance + Ordain'd the first to whirl the weighty lance. + Both armies sat the combat to survey. + Beside each chief his azure armour lay, + And round the lists the generous coursers neigh. + The beauteous warrior now arrays for fight, + In gilded arms magnificently bright: + The purple cuishes clasp his thighs around, + With flowers adorn'd, with silver buckles bound: + Lycaon's corslet his fair body dress'd, + Braced in and fitted to his softer breast; + A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder tied, + Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side: + His youthful face a polish'd helm o'erspread; + The waving horse-hair nodded on his head: + His figured shield, a shining orb, he takes, + And in his hand a pointed javelin shakes. + With equal speed and fired by equal charms, + The Spartan hero sheathes his limbs in arms. + + Now round the lists the admiring armies stand, + With javelins fix'd, the Greek and Trojan band. + Amidst the dreadful vale, the chiefs advance, + All pale with rage, and shake the threatening lance. + The Trojan first his shining javelin threw; + Full on Atrides' ringing shield it flew, + Nor pierced the brazen orb, but with a bound(122) + Leap'd from the buckler, blunted, on the ground. + Atrides then his massy lance prepares, + In act to throw, but first prefers his prayers: + + "Give me, great Jove! to punish lawless lust, + And lay the Trojan gasping in the dust: + Destroy the aggressor, aid my righteous cause, + Avenge the breach of hospitable laws! + Let this example future times reclaim, + And guard from wrong fair friendship's holy name." + Be said, and poised in air the javelin sent, + Through Paris' shield the forceful weapon went, + His corslet pierces, and his garment rends, + And glancing downward, near his flank descends. + The wary Trojan, bending from the blow, + Eludes the death, and disappoints his foe: + But fierce Atrides waved his sword, and strook + Full on his casque: the crested helmet shook; + The brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand, + Broke short: the fragments glitter'd on the sand. + The raging warrior to the spacious skies + Raised his upbraiding voice and angry eyes: + "Then is it vain in Jove himself to trust? + And is it thus the gods assist the just? + When crimes provoke us, Heaven success denies; + The dart falls harmless, and the falchion flies." + Furious he said, and towards the Grecian crew + (Seized by the crest) the unhappy warrior drew; + Struggling he followed, while the embroider'd thong + That tied his helmet, dragg'd the chief along. + Then had his ruin crown'd Atrides' joy, + But Venus trembled for the prince of Troy: + Unseen she came, and burst the golden band; + And left an empty helmet in his hand. + The casque, enraged, amidst the Greeks he threw; + The Greeks with smiles the polish'd trophy view. + Then, as once more he lifts the deadly dart, + In thirst of vengeance, at his rival's heart; + The queen of love her favour'd champion shrouds + (For gods can all things) in a veil of clouds. + Raised from the field the panting youth she led, + And gently laid him on the bridal bed, + With pleasing sweets his fainting sense renews, + And all the dome perfumes with heavenly dews. + Meantime the brightest of the female kind, + The matchless Helen, o'er the walls reclined; + To her, beset with Trojan beauties, came, + In borrow'd form, the laughter-loving dame. + (She seem'd an ancient maid, well-skill'd to cull + The snowy fleece, and wind the twisted wool.) + The goddess softly shook her silken vest, + That shed perfumes, and whispering thus address'd: + +[Illustration: VENUS, DISGUISED, INVITING HELEN TO THE CHAMBER OF PARIS.] + + VENUS, DISGUISED, INVITING HELEN TO THE CHAMBER OF PARIS. + + + "Haste, happy nymph! for thee thy Paris calls, + Safe from the fight, in yonder lofty walls, + Fair as a god; with odours round him spread, + He lies, and waits thee on the well-known bed; + Not like a warrior parted from the foe, + But some gay dancer in the public show." + + She spoke, and Helen's secret soul was moved; + She scorn'd the champion, but the man she loved. + Fair Venus' neck, her eyes that sparkled fire, + And breast, reveal'd the queen of soft desire.(123) + Struck with her presence, straight the lively red + Forsook her cheek; and trembling, thus she said: + "Then is it still thy pleasure to deceive? + And woman's frailty always to believe! + Say, to new nations must I cross the main, + Or carry wars to some soft Asian plain? + For whom must Helen break her second vow? + What other Paris is thy darling now? + Left to Atrides, (victor in the strife,) + An odious conquest and a captive wife, + Hence let me sail; and if thy Paris bear + My absence ill, let Venus ease his care. + A handmaid goddess at his side to wait, + Renounce the glories of thy heavenly state, + Be fix'd for ever to the Trojan shore, + His spouse, or slave; and mount the skies no more. + For me, to lawless love no longer led, + I scorn the coward, and detest his bed; + Else should I merit everlasting shame, + And keen reproach, from every Phrygian dame: + Ill suits it now the joys of love to know, + Too deep my anguish, and too wild my woe." + + [Illustration: VENUS PRESENTING HELEN TO PARIS.] + + VENUS PRESENTING HELEN TO PARIS. + + + Then thus incensed, the Paphian queen replies: + "Obey the power from whom thy glories rise: + Should Venus leave thee, every charm must fly, + Fade from thy cheek, and languish in thy eye. + Cease to provoke me, lest I make thee more + The world's aversion, than their love before; + Now the bright prize for which mankind engage, + Than, the sad victim, of the public rage." + + At this, the fairest of her sex obey'd, + And veil'd her blushes in a silken shade; + Unseen, and silent, from the train she moves, + Led by the goddess of the Smiles and Loves. + Arrived, and enter'd at the palace gate, + The maids officious round their mistress wait; + Then, all dispersing, various tasks attend; + The queen and goddess to the prince ascend. + Full in her Paris' sight, the queen of love + Had placed the beauteous progeny of Jove; + Where, as he view'd her charms, she turn'd away + Her glowing eyes, and thus began to say: + + "Is this the chief, who, lost to sense of shame, + Late fled the field, and yet survives his fame? + O hadst thou died beneath the righteous sword + Of that brave man whom once I call'd my lord! + The boaster Paris oft desired the day + With Sparta's king to meet in single fray: + Go now, once more thy rival's rage excite, + Provoke Atrides, and renew the fight: + Yet Helen bids thee stay, lest thou unskill'd + Shouldst fall an easy conquest on the field." + + The prince replies: "Ah cease, divinely fair, + Nor add reproaches to the wounds I bear; + This day the foe prevail'd by Pallas' power: + We yet may vanquish in a happier hour: + There want not gods to favour us above; + But let the business of our life be love: + These softer moments let delights employ, + And kind embraces snatch the hasty joy. + Not thus I loved thee, when from Sparta's shore + My forced, my willing heavenly prize I bore, + When first entranced in Cranae's isle I lay,(124) + Mix'd with thy soul, and all dissolved away!" + Thus having spoke, the enamour'd Phrygian boy + Rush'd to the bed, impatient for the joy. + Him Helen follow'd slow with bashful charms, + And clasp'd the blooming hero in her arms. + + While these to love's delicious rapture yield, + The stern Atrides rages round the field: + So some fell lion whom the woods obey, + Roars through the desert, and demands his prey. + Paris he seeks, impatient to destroy, + But seeks in vain along the troops of Troy; + Even those had yielded to a foe so brave + The recreant warrior, hateful as the grave. + Then speaking thus, the king of kings arose, + "Ye Trojans, Dardans, all our generous foes! + Hear and attest! from Heaven with conquest crown'd, + Our brother's arms the just success have found: + Be therefore now the Spartan wealth restor'd, + Let Argive Helen own her lawful lord; + The appointed fine let Ilion justly pay, + And age to age record this signal day." + + He ceased; his army's loud applauses rise, + And the long shout runs echoing through the skies. + + [Illustration: VENUS.] + + VENUS. + + + [Illustration: Map, titled "Graeciae Antiquae".] + + Map, titled "Graeciae Antiquae". + + + + + +BOOK IV. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE BREACH OF THE TRUCE, AND THE FIRST BATTLE. + +The gods deliberate in council concerning the Trojan war: they agree upon +the continuation of it, and Jupiter sends down Minerva to break the truce. +She persuades Pandarus to aim an arrow at Menelaus, who is wounded, but +cured by Machaon. In the meantime some of the Trojan troops attack the +Greeks. Agamemnon is distinguished in all the parts of a good general; he +reviews the troops, and exhorts the leaders, some by praises and others by +reproof. Nestor is particularly celebrated for his military discipline. +The battle joins, and great numbers are slain on both sides. + +The same day continues through this as through the last book (as it does +also through the two following, and almost to the end of the seventh +book). The scene is wholly in the field before Troy. + + And now Olympus' shining gates unfold; + The gods, with Jove, assume their thrones of gold: + Immortal Hebe, fresh with bloom divine, + The golden goblet crowns with purple wine: + While the full bowls flow round, the powers employ + Their careful eyes on long-contended Troy. + + When Jove, disposed to tempt Saturnia's spleen, + Thus waked the fury of his partial queen, + "Two powers divine the son of Atreus aid, + Imperial Juno, and the martial maid;(125) + But high in heaven they sit, and gaze from far, + The tame spectators of his deeds of war. + Not thus fair Venus helps her favour'd knight, + The queen of pleasures shares the toils of fight, + Each danger wards, and constant in her care, + Saves in the moment of the last despair. + Her act has rescued Paris' forfeit life, + Though great Atrides gain'd the glorious strife. + Then say, ye powers! what signal issue waits + To crown this deed, and finish all the fates! + Shall Heaven by peace the bleeding kingdoms spare, + Or rouse the furies, and awake the war? + Yet, would the gods for human good provide, + Atrides soon might gain his beauteous bride, + Still Priam's walls in peaceful honours grow, + And through his gates the crowding nations flow." + + Thus while he spoke, the queen of heaven, enraged, + And queen of war, in close consult engaged: + Apart they sit, their deep designs employ, + And meditate the future woes of Troy. + Though secret anger swell'd Minerva's breast, + The prudent goddess yet her wrath suppress'd; + But Juno, impotent of passion, broke + Her sullen silence, and with fury spoke: + + [Illustration: THE COUNCIL OF THE GODS.] + + THE COUNCIL OF THE GODS. + + + "Shall then, O tyrant of the ethereal reign! + My schemes, my labours, and my hopes be vain? + Have I, for this, shook Ilion with alarms, + Assembled nations, set two worlds in arms? + To spread the war, I flew from shore to shore; + The immortal coursers scarce the labour bore. + At length ripe vengeance o'er their heads impends, + But Jove himself the faithless race defends. + Loth as thou art to punish lawless lust, + Not all the gods are partial and unjust." + + The sire whose thunder shakes the cloudy skies, + Sighs from his inmost soul, and thus replies: + "Oh lasting rancour! oh insatiate hate + To Phrygia's monarch, and the Phrygian state! + What high offence has fired the wife of Jove? + Can wretched mortals harm the powers above, + That Troy, and Troy's whole race thou wouldst confound, + And yon fair structures level with the ground! + Haste, leave the skies, fulfil thy stern desire, + Burst all her gates, and wrap her walls in fire! + Let Priam bleed! if yet you thirst for more, + Bleed all his sons, and Ilion float with gore: + To boundless vengeance the wide realm be given, + Till vast destruction glut the queen of heaven! + So let it be, and Jove his peace enjoy,(126) + When heaven no longer hears the name of Troy. + But should this arm prepare to wreak our hate + On thy loved realms, whose guilt demands their fate; + Presume not thou the lifted bolt to stay, + Remember Troy, and give the vengeance way. + For know, of all the numerous towns that rise + Beneath the rolling sun and starry skies, + Which gods have raised, or earth-born men enjoy, + None stands so dear to Jove as sacred Troy. + No mortals merit more distinguish'd grace + Than godlike Priam, or than Priam's race. + Still to our name their hecatombs expire, + And altars blaze with unextinguish'd fire." + + At this the goddess rolled her radiant eyes, + Then on the Thunderer fix'd them, and replies: + "Three towns are Juno's on the Grecian plains, + More dear than all the extended earth contains, + Mycenae, Argos, and the Spartan wall;(127) + + These thou mayst raze, nor I forbid their fall: + 'Tis not in me the vengeance to remove; + The crime's sufficient that they share my love. + Of power superior why should I complain? + Resent I may, but must resent in vain. + Yet some distinction Juno might require, + Sprung with thyself from one celestial sire, + A goddess born, to share the realms above, + And styled the consort of the thundering Jove; + Nor thou a wife and sister's right deny;(128) + Let both consent, and both by terms comply; + So shall the gods our joint decrees obey, + And heaven shall act as we direct the way. + See ready Pallas waits thy high commands + To raise in arms the Greek and Phrygian bands; + Their sudden friendship by her arts may cease, + And the proud Trojans first infringe the peace." + + The sire of men and monarch of the sky + The advice approved, and bade Minerva fly, + Dissolve the league, and all her arts employ + To make the breach the faithless act of Troy. + Fired with the charge, she headlong urged her flight, + And shot like lightning from Olympus' height. + As the red comet, from Saturnius sent + To fright the nations with a dire portent, + (A fatal sign to armies on the plain, + Or trembling sailors on the wintry main,) + With sweeping glories glides along in air, + And shakes the sparkles from its blazing hair:(129) + Between both armies thus, in open sight + Shot the bright goddess in a trail of light, + With eyes erect the gazing hosts admire + The power descending, and the heavens on fire! + "The gods (they cried), the gods this signal sent, + And fate now labours with some vast event: + Jove seals the league, or bloodier scenes prepares; + Jove, the great arbiter of peace and wars." + + They said, while Pallas through the Trojan throng, + (In shape a mortal,) pass'd disguised along. + Like bold Laodocus, her course she bent, + Who from Antenor traced his high descent. + Amidst the ranks Lycaon's son she found, + The warlike Pandarus, for strength renown'd; + Whose squadrons, led from black AEsepus' flood,(130) + With flaming shields in martial circle stood. + To him the goddess: "Phrygian! canst thou hear + A well-timed counsel with a willing ear? + What praise were thine, couldst thou direct thy dart, + Amidst his triumph, to the Spartan's heart? + What gifts from Troy, from Paris wouldst thou gain, + Thy country's foe, the Grecian glory slain? + Then seize the occasion, dare the mighty deed, + Aim at his breast, and may that aim succeed! + But first, to speed the shaft, address thy vow + To Lycian Phoebus with the silver bow, + And swear the firstlings of thy flock to pay, + On Zelia's altars, to the god of day."(131) + + He heard, and madly at the motion pleased, + His polish'd bow with hasty rashness seized. + 'Twas form'd of horn, and smooth'd with artful toil: + A mountain goat resign'd the shining spoil. + Who pierced long since beneath his arrows bled; + The stately quarry on the cliffs lay dead, + And sixteen palms his brow's large honours spread: + The workmen join'd, and shaped the bended horns, + And beaten gold each taper point adorns. + This, by the Greeks unseen, the warrior bends, + Screen'd by the shields of his surrounding friends: + There meditates the mark; and couching low, + Fits the sharp arrow to the well-strung bow. + One from a hundred feather'd deaths he chose, + Fated to wound, and cause of future woes; + Then offers vows with hecatombs to crown + Apollo's altars in his native town. + + Now with full force the yielding horn he bends, + Drawn to an arch, and joins the doubling ends; + Close to his breast he strains the nerve below, + Till the barb'd points approach the circling bow; + The impatient weapon whizzes on the wing; + Sounds the tough horn, and twangs the quivering string. + + But thee, Atrides! in that dangerous hour + The gods forget not, nor thy guardian power, + Pallas assists, and (weakened in its force) + Diverts the weapon from its destined course: + So from her babe, when slumber seals his eye, + The watchful mother wafts the envenom'd fly. + Just where his belt with golden buckles join'd, + Where linen folds the double corslet lined, + She turn'd the shaft, which, hissing from above, + Pass'd the broad belt, and through the corslet drove; + The folds it pierced, the plaited linen tore, + And razed the skin, and drew the purple gore. + As when some stately trappings are decreed + To grace a monarch on his bounding steed, + A nymph in Caria or Maeonia bred, + Stains the pure ivory with a lively red; + With equal lustre various colours vie, + The shining whiteness, and the Tyrian dye: + So great Atrides! show'd thy sacred blood, + As down thy snowy thigh distill'd the streaming flood. + With horror seized, the king of men descried + The shaft infix'd, and saw the gushing tide: + Nor less the Spartan fear'd, before he found + The shining barb appear above the wound, + Then, with a sigh, that heaved his manly breast, + The royal brother thus his grief express'd, + And grasp'd his hand; while all the Greeks around + With answering sighs return'd the plaintive sound. + + "Oh, dear as life! did I for this agree + The solemn truce, a fatal truce to thee! + Wert thou exposed to all the hostile train, + To fight for Greece, and conquer, to be slain! + The race of Trojans in thy ruin join, + And faith is scorn'd by all the perjured line. + Not thus our vows, confirm'd with wine and gore, + Those hands we plighted, and those oaths we swore, + Shall all be vain: when Heaven's revenge is slow, + Jove but prepares to strike the fiercer blow. + The day shall come, that great avenging day, + When Troy's proud glories in the dust shall lay, + When Priam's powers and Priam's self shall fall, + And one prodigious ruin swallow all. + I see the god, already, from the pole + Bare his red arm, and bid the thunder roll; + I see the Eternal all his fury shed, + And shake his aegis o'er their guilty head. + Such mighty woes on perjured princes wait; + But thou, alas! deserv'st a happier fate. + Still must I mourn the period of thy days, + And only mourn, without my share of praise? + Deprived of thee, the heartless Greeks no more + Shall dream of conquests on the hostile shore; + Troy seized of Helen, and our glory lost, + Thy bones shall moulder on a foreign coast; + While some proud Trojan thus insulting cries, + (And spurns the dust where Menelaus lies,) + 'Such are the trophies Greece from Ilion brings, + And such the conquest of her king of kings! + Lo his proud vessels scatter'd o'er the main, + And unrevenged, his mighty brother slain.' + Oh! ere that dire disgrace shall blast my fame, + O'erwhelm me, earth! and hide a monarch's shame." + + He said: a leader's and a brother's fears + Possess his soul, which thus the Spartan cheers: + "Let not thy words the warmth of Greece abate; + The feeble dart is guiltless of my fate: + Stiff with the rich embroider'd work around, + My varied belt repell'd the flying wound." + + To whom the king: "My brother and my friend, + Thus, always thus, may Heaven thy life defend! + Now seek some skilful hand, whose powerful art + May stanch the effusion, and extract the dart. + Herald, be swift, and bid Machaon bring + His speedy succour to the Spartan king; + Pierced with a winged shaft (the deed of Troy), + The Grecian's sorrow, and the Dardan's joy." + + With hasty zeal the swift Talthybius flies; + Through the thick files he darts his searching eyes, + And finds Machaon, where sublime he stands(132) + In arms incircled with his native bands. + Then thus: "Machaon, to the king repair, + His wounded brother claims thy timely care; + Pierced by some Lycian or Dardanian bow, + A grief to us, a triumph to the foe." + + The heavy tidings grieved the godlike man + Swift to his succour through the ranks he ran. + The dauntless king yet standing firm he found, + And all the chiefs in deep concern around. + Where to the steely point the reed was join'd, + The shaft he drew, but left the head behind. + Straight the broad belt with gay embroidery graced, + He loosed; the corslet from his breast unbraced; + Then suck'd the blood, and sovereign balm infused,(133) + Which Chiron gave, and AEsculapius used. + + While round the prince the Greeks employ their care, + The Trojans rush tumultuous to the war; + Once more they glitter in refulgent arms, + Once more the fields are fill'd with dire alarms. + Nor had you seen the king of men appear + Confused, unactive, or surprised with fear; + But fond of glory, with severe delight, + His beating bosom claim'd the rising fight. + No longer with his warlike steeds he stay'd, + Or press'd the car with polish'd brass inlaid + But left Eurymedon the reins to guide; + The fiery coursers snorted at his side. + On foot through all the martial ranks he moves + And these encourages, and those reproves. + "Brave men!" he cries, (to such who boldly dare + Urge their swift steeds to face the coming war), + "Your ancient valour on the foes approve; + Jove is with Greece, and let us trust in Jove. + 'Tis not for us, but guilty Troy, to dread, + Whose crimes sit heavy on her perjured head; + Her sons and matrons Greece shall lead in chains, + And her dead warriors strew the mournful plains." + + Thus with new ardour he the brave inspires; + Or thus the fearful with reproaches fires: + "Shame to your country, scandal of your kind; + Born to the fate ye well deserve to find! + Why stand ye gazing round the dreadful plain, + Prepared for flight, but doom'd to fly in vain? + Confused and panting thus, the hunted deer + Falls as he flies, a victim to his fear. + Still must ye wait the foes, and still retire, + Till yon tall vessels blaze with Trojan fire? + Or trust ye, Jove a valiant foe shall chase, + To save a trembling, heartless, dastard race?" + + This said, he stalk'd with ample strides along, + To Crete's brave monarch and his martial throng; + High at their head he saw the chief appear, + And bold Meriones excite the rear. + At this the king his generous joy express'd, + And clasp'd the warrior to his armed breast. + "Divine Idomeneus! what thanks we owe + To worth like thine! what praise shall we bestow? + To thee the foremost honours are decreed, + First in the fight and every graceful deed. + For this, in banquets, when the generous bowls + Restore our blood, and raise the warriors' souls, + Though all the rest with stated rules we bound, + Unmix'd, unmeasured, are thy goblets crown'd. + Be still thyself, in arms a mighty name; + Maintain thy honours, and enlarge thy fame." + To whom the Cretan thus his speech address'd: + "Secure of me, O king! exhort the rest. + Fix'd to thy side, in every toil I share, + Thy firm associate in the day of war. + But let the signal be this moment given; + To mix in fight is all I ask of Heaven. + The field shall prove how perjuries succeed, + And chains or death avenge the impious deed." + + Charm'd with this heat, the king his course pursues, + And next the troops of either Ajax views: + In one firm orb the bands were ranged around, + A cloud of heroes blacken'd all the ground. + Thus from the lofty promontory's brow + A swain surveys the gathering storm below; + Slow from the main the heavy vapours rise, + Spread in dim streams, and sail along the skies, + Till black as night the swelling tempest shows, + The cloud condensing as the west-wind blows: + He dreads the impending storm, and drives his flock + To the close covert of an arching rock. + + Such, and so thick, the embattled squadrons stood, + With spears erect, a moving iron wood: + A shady light was shot from glimmering shields, + And their brown arms obscured the dusky fields. + + "O heroes! worthy such a dauntless train, + Whose godlike virtue we but urge in vain, + (Exclaim'd the king), who raise your eager bands + With great examples, more than loud commands. + Ah! would the gods but breathe in all the rest + Such souls as burn in your exalted breast, + Soon should our arms with just success be crown'd, + And Troy's proud walls lie smoking on the ground." + + Then to the next the general bends his course; + (His heart exults, and glories in his force); + There reverend Nestor ranks his Pylian bands, + And with inspiring eloquence commands; + With strictest order sets his train in arms, + The chiefs advises, and the soldiers warms. + Alastor, Chromius, Haemon, round him wait, + Bias the good, and Pelagon the great. + The horse and chariots to the front assign'd, + The foot (the strength of war) he ranged behind; + The middle space suspected troops supply, + Inclosed by both, nor left the power to fly; + He gives command to "curb the fiery steed, + Nor cause confusion, nor the ranks exceed: + Before the rest let none too rashly ride; + No strength nor skill, but just in time, be tried: + The charge once made, no warrior turn the rein, + But fight, or fall; a firm embodied train. + He whom the fortune of the field shall cast + From forth his chariot, mount the next in haste; + Nor seek unpractised to direct the car, + Content with javelins to provoke the war. + Our great forefathers held this prudent course, + Thus ruled their ardour, thus preserved their force; + By laws like these immortal conquests made, + And earth's proud tyrants low in ashes laid." + + So spoke the master of the martial art, + And touch'd with transport great Atrides' heart. + "Oh! hadst thou strength to match thy brave desires, + And nerves to second what thy soul inspires! + But wasting years, that wither human race, + Exhaust thy spirits, and thy arms unbrace. + What once thou wert, oh ever mightst thou be! + And age the lot of any chief but thee." + + Thus to the experienced prince Atrides cried; + He shook his hoary locks, and thus replied: + "Well might I wish, could mortal wish renew(134) + That strength which once in boiling youth I knew; + Such as I was, when Ereuthalion, slain + Beneath this arm, fell prostrate on the plain. + But heaven its gifts not all at once bestows, + These years with wisdom crowns, with action those: + The field of combat fits the young and bold, + The solemn council best becomes the old: + To you the glorious conflict I resign, + Let sage advice, the palm of age, be mine." + + He said. With joy the monarch march'd before, + And found Menestheus on the dusty shore, + With whom the firm Athenian phalanx stands; + And next Ulysses, with his subject bands. + Remote their forces lay, nor knew so far + The peace infringed, nor heard the sounds of war; + The tumult late begun, they stood intent + To watch the motion, dubious of the event. + The king, who saw their squadrons yet unmoved, + With hasty ardour thus the chiefs reproved: + + "Can Peleus' son forget a warrior's part. + And fears Ulysses, skill'd in every art? + Why stand you distant, and the rest expect + To mix in combat which yourselves neglect? + From you 'twas hoped among the first to dare + The shock of armies, and commence the war; + For this your names are call'd before the rest, + To share the pleasures of the genial feast: + And can you, chiefs! without a blush survey + Whole troops before you labouring in the fray? + Say, is it thus those honours you requite? + The first in banquets, but the last in fight." + + Ulysses heard: the hero's warmth o'erspread + His cheek with blushes: and severe, he said: + "Take back the unjust reproach! Behold we stand + Sheathed in bright arms, and but expect command. + If glorious deeds afford thy soul delight, + Behold me plunging in the thickest fight. + Then give thy warrior-chief a warrior's due, + Who dares to act whate'er thou dar'st to view." + Struck with his generous wrath, the king replies: + + "O great in action, and in council wise! + With ours, thy care and ardour are the same, + Nor need I to commend, nor aught to blame. + Sage as thou art, and learn'd in human kind, + Forgive the transport of a martial mind. + Haste to the fight, secure of just amends; + The gods that make, shall keep the worthy, friends." + + He said, and pass'd where great Tydides lay, + His steeds and chariots wedged in firm array; + (The warlike Sthenelus attends his side;)(135) + To whom with stern reproach the monarch cried: + "O son of Tydeus! (he, whose strength could tame + The bounding steed, in arms a mighty name) + Canst thou, remote, the mingling hosts descry, + With hands unactive, and a careless eye? + Not thus thy sire the fierce encounter fear'd; + Still first in front the matchless prince appear'd: + What glorious toils, what wonders they recite, + Who view'd him labouring through the ranks of fight? + I saw him once, when gathering martial powers, + A peaceful guest, he sought Mycenae's towers; + Armies he ask'd, and armies had been given, + Not we denied, but Jove forbade from heaven; + While dreadful comets glaring from afar, + Forewarn'd the horrors of the Theban war.(136) + Next, sent by Greece from where Asopus flows, + A fearless envoy, he approach'd the foes; + Thebes' hostile walls unguarded and alone, + Dauntless he enters, and demands the throne. + The tyrant feasting with his chiefs he found, + And dared to combat all those chiefs around: + Dared, and subdued before their haughty lord; + For Pallas strung his arm and edged his sword. + Stung with the shame, within the winding way, + To bar his passage fifty warriors lay; + Two heroes led the secret squadron on, + Mason the fierce, and hardy Lycophon; + Those fifty slaughter'd in the gloomy vale. + He spared but one to bear the dreadful tale, + Such Tydeus was, and such his martial fire; + Gods! how the son degenerates from the sire!" + + No words the godlike Diomed return'd, + But heard respectful, and in secret burn'd: + Not so fierce Capaneus' undaunted son; + Stern as his sire, the boaster thus begun: + + "What needs, O monarch! this invidious praise, + Ourselves to lessen, while our sire you raise? + Dare to be just, Atrides! and confess + Our value equal, though our fury less. + With fewer troops we storm'd the Theban wall, + And happier saw the sevenfold city fall,(137) + In impious acts the guilty father died; + The sons subdued, for Heaven was on their side. + Far more than heirs of all our parents' fame, + Our glories darken their diminish'd name." + + To him Tydides thus: "My friend, forbear; + Suppress thy passion, and the king revere: + His high concern may well excuse this rage, + Whose cause we follow, and whose war we wage: + His the first praise, were Ilion's towers o'erthrown, + And, if we fail, the chief disgrace his own. + Let him the Greeks to hardy toils excite, + 'Tis ours to labour in the glorious fight." + + He spoke, and ardent, on the trembling ground + Sprung from his car: his ringing arms resound. + Dire was the clang, and dreadful from afar, + Of arm'd Tydides rushing to the war. + As when the winds, ascending by degrees,(138) + First move the whitening surface of the seas, + The billows float in order to the shore, + The wave behind rolls on the wave before; + Till, with the growing storm, the deeps arise, + Foam o'er the rocks, and thunder to the skies. + So to the fight the thick battalions throng, + Shields urged on shields, and men drove men along + Sedate and silent move the numerous bands; + No sound, no whisper, but the chief's commands, + Those only heard; with awe the rest obey, + As if some god had snatch'd their voice away. + Not so the Trojans; from their host ascends + A general shout that all the region rends. + As when the fleecy flocks unnumber'd stand + In wealthy folds, and wait the milker's hand, + The hollow vales incessant bleating fills, + The lambs reply from all the neighbouring hills: + Such clamours rose from various nations round, + Mix'd was the murmur, and confused the sound. + Each host now joins, and each a god inspires, + These Mars incites, and those Minerva fires, + Pale flight around, and dreadful terror reign; + And discord raging bathes the purple plain; + Discord! dire sister of the slaughtering power, + Small at her birth, but rising every hour, + While scarce the skies her horrid head can bound, + She stalks on earth, and shakes the world around;(139) + The nations bleed, where'er her steps she turns, + The groan still deepens, and the combat burns. + + Now shield with shield, with helmet helmet closed, + To armour armour, lance to lance opposed, + Host against host with shadowy squadrons drew, + The sounding darts in iron tempests flew, + Victors and vanquish'd join'd promiscuous cries, + And shrilling shouts and dying groans arise; + With streaming blood the slippery fields are dyed, + And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide. + + As torrents roll, increased by numerous rills, + With rage impetuous, down their echoing hills + Rush to the vales, and pour'd along the plain. + Roar through a thousand channels to the main: + The distant shepherd trembling hears the sound; + So mix both hosts, and so their cries rebound. + + The bold Antilochus the slaughter led, + The first who struck a valiant Trojan dead: + At great Echepolus the lance arrives, + Razed his high crest, and through his helmet drives; + Warm'd in the brain the brazen weapon lies, + And shades eternal settle o'er his eyes. + So sinks a tower, that long assaults had stood + Of force and fire, its walls besmear'd with blood. + Him, the bold leader of the Abantian throng,(140) + Seized to despoil, and dragg'd the corpse along: + But while he strove to tug the inserted dart, + Agenor's javelin reach'd the hero's heart. + His flank, unguarded by his ample shield, + Admits the lance: he falls, and spurns the field; + The nerves, unbraced, support his limbs no more; + The soul comes floating in a tide of gore. + Trojans and Greeks now gather round the slain; + The war renews, the warriors bleed again: + As o'er their prey rapacious wolves engage, + Man dies on man, and all is blood and rage. + + In blooming youth fair Simoisius fell, + Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell; + Fair Simoisius, whom his mother bore + Amid the flocks on silver Simois' shore: + The nymph descending from the hills of Ide, + To seek her parents on his flowery side, + Brought forth the babe, their common care and joy, + And thence from Simois named the lovely boy. + Short was his date! by dreadful Ajax slain, + He falls, and renders all their cares in vain! + So falls a poplar, that in watery ground + Raised high the head, with stately branches crown'd, + (Fell'd by some artist with his shining steel, + To shape the circle of the bending wheel,) + Cut down it lies, tall, smooth, and largely spread, + With all its beauteous honours on its head + There, left a subject to the wind and rain, + And scorch'd by suns, it withers on the plain + Thus pierced by Ajax, Simoisius lies + Stretch'd on the shore, and thus neglected dies. + + At Ajax, Antiphus his javelin threw; + The pointed lance with erring fury flew, + And Leucus, loved by wise Ulysses, slew. + He drops the corpse of Simoisius slain, + And sinks a breathless carcase on the plain. + This saw Ulysses, and with grief enraged, + Strode where the foremost of the foes engaged; + Arm'd with his spear, he meditates the wound, + In act to throw; but cautious look'd around, + Struck at his sight the Trojans backward drew, + And trembling heard the javelin as it flew. + A chief stood nigh, who from Abydos came, + Old Priam's son, Democoon was his name. + The weapon entered close above his ear, + Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear;(141) + With piercing shrieks the youth resigns his breath, + His eye-balls darken with the shades of death; + Ponderous he falls; his clanging arms resound, + And his broad buckler rings against the ground. + + Seized with affright the boldest foes appear; + E'en godlike Hector seems himself to fear; + Slow he gave way, the rest tumultuous fled; + The Greeks with shouts press on, and spoil the dead: + But Phoebus now from Ilion's towering height + Shines forth reveal'd, and animates the fight. + "Trojans, be bold, and force with force oppose; + Your foaming steeds urge headlong on the foes! + Nor are their bodies rocks, nor ribb'd with steel; + Your weapons enter, and your strokes they feel. + Have ye forgot what seem'd your dread before? + The great, the fierce Achilles fights no more." + + Apollo thus from Ilion's lofty towers, + Array'd in terrors, roused the Trojan powers: + While war's fierce goddess fires the Grecian foe, + And shouts and thunders in the fields below. + Then great Diores fell, by doom divine, + In vain his valour and illustrious line. + A broken rock the force of Pyrus threw, + (Who from cold AEnus led the Thracian crew,)(142) + Full on his ankle dropp'd the ponderous stone, + Burst the strong nerves, and crash'd the solid bone. + Supine he tumbles on the crimson sands, + Before his helpless friends, and native bands, + And spreads for aid his unavailing hands. + The foe rush'd furious as he pants for breath, + And through his navel drove the pointed death: + His gushing entrails smoked upon the ground, + And the warm life came issuing from the wound. + + His lance bold Thoas at the conqueror sent, + Deep in his breast above the pap it went, + Amid the lungs was fix'd the winged wood, + And quivering in his heaving bosom stood: + Till from the dying chief, approaching near, + The AEtolian warrior tugg'd his weighty spear: + Then sudden waved his flaming falchion round, + And gash'd his belly with a ghastly wound; + The corpse now breathless on the bloody plain, + To spoil his arms the victor strove in vain; + The Thracian bands against the victor press'd, + A grove of lances glitter'd at his breast. + Stern Thoas, glaring with revengeful eyes, + In sullen fury slowly quits the prize. + + Thus fell two heroes; one the pride of Thrace, + And one the leader of the Epeian race; + Death's sable shade at once o'ercast their eyes, + In dust the vanquish'd and the victor lies. + With copious slaughter all the fields are red, + And heap'd with growing mountains of the dead. + + Had some brave chief this martial scene beheld, + By Pallas guarded through the dreadful field; + Might darts be bid to turn their points away, + And swords around him innocently play; + The war's whole art with wonder had he seen, + And counted heroes where he counted men. + + So fought each host, with thirst of glory fired, + And crowds on crowds triumphantly expired. + + [Illustration: Map of the Plain of Troy.] + + Map of the Plain of Troy. + + + + + +BOOK V. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE ACTS OF DIOMED. + +Diomed, assisted by Pallas, performs wonders in this day's battle. +Pandarus wounds him with an arrow, but the goddess cures him, enables him +to discern gods from mortals, and prohibits him from contending with any +of the former, excepting Venus. AEneas joins Pandarus to oppose him; +Pandarus is killed, and AEneas in great danger but for the assistance of +Venus; who, as she is removing her son from the fight, is wounded on the +hand by Diomed. Apollo seconds her in his rescue, and at length carries +off AEneas to Troy, where he is healed in the temple of Pergamus. Mars +rallies the Trojans, and assists Hector to make a stand. In the meantime +AEneas is restored to the field, and they overthrow several of the Greeks; +among the rest Tlepolemus is slain by Sarpedon. Juno and Minerva descend +to resist Mars; the latter incites Diomed to go against that god; he +wounds him, and sends him groaning to heaven. + +The first battle continues through this book. The scene is the same as in +the former. + + But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,(143) + Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires, + Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise, + And crown her hero with distinguish'd praise. + High on his helm celestial lightnings play, + His beamy shield emits a living ray; + The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies, + Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies, + When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight, + And, bathed in ocean, shoots a keener light. + Such glories Pallas on the chief bestow'd, + Such, from his arms, the fierce effulgence flow'd: + Onward she drives him, furious to engage, + Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage. + + The sons of Dares first the combat sought, + A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault; + In Vulcan's fane the father's days were led, + The sons to toils of glorious battle bred; + These singled from their troops the fight maintain, + These, from their steeds, Tydides on the plain. + Fierce for renown the brother-chiefs draw near, + And first bold Phegeus cast his sounding spear, + Which o'er the warrior's shoulder took its course, + And spent in empty air its erring force. + Not so, Tydides, flew thy lance in vain, + But pierced his breast, and stretch'd him on the plain. + Seized with unusual fear, Idaeus fled, + Left the rich chariot, and his brother dead. + And had not Vulcan lent celestial aid, + He too had sunk to death's eternal shade; + But in a smoky cloud the god of fire + Preserved the son, in pity to the sire. + The steeds and chariot, to the navy led, + Increased the spoils of gallant Diomed. + + Struck with amaze and shame, the Trojan crew, + Or slain, or fled, the sons of Dares view; + When by the blood-stain'd hand Minerva press'd + The god of battles, and this speech address'd: + + "Stern power of war! by whom the mighty fall, + Who bathe in blood, and shake the lofty wall! + Let the brave chiefs their glorious toils divide; + And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide: + While we from interdicted fields retire, + Nor tempt the wrath of heaven's avenging sire." + + Her words allay the impetuous warrior's heat, + The god of arms and martial maid retreat; + Removed from fight, on Xanthus' flowery bounds + They sat, and listen'd to the dying sounds. + + Meantime, the Greeks the Trojan race pursue, + And some bold chieftain every leader slew: + First Odius falls, and bites the bloody sand, + His death ennobled by Atrides' hand: + + As he to flight his wheeling car address'd, + The speedy javelin drove from back to breast. + In dust the mighty Halizonian lay, + His arms resound, the spirit wings its way. + + Thy fate was next, O Phaestus! doom'd to feel + The great Idomeneus' protended steel; + Whom Borus sent (his son and only joy) + From fruitful Tarne to the fields of Troy. + The Cretan javelin reach'd him from afar, + And pierced his shoulder as he mounts his car; + Back from the car he tumbles to the ground, + And everlasting shades his eyes surround. + + Then died Scamandrius, expert in the chase, + In woods and wilds to wound the savage race; + Diana taught him all her sylvan arts, + To bend the bow, and aim unerring darts: + But vainly here Diana's arts he tries, + The fatal lance arrests him as he flies; + From Menelaus' arm the weapon sent, + Through his broad back and heaving bosom went: + Down sinks the warrior with a thundering sound, + His brazen armour rings against the ground. + + Next artful Phereclus untimely fell; + Bold Merion sent him to the realms of hell. + Thy father's skill, O Phereclus! was thine, + The graceful fabric and the fair design; + For loved by Pallas, Pallas did impart + To him the shipwright's and the builder's art. + Beneath his hand the fleet of Paris rose, + The fatal cause of all his country's woes; + But he, the mystic will of heaven unknown, + Nor saw his country's peril, nor his own. + The hapless artist, while confused he fled, + The spear of Merion mingled with the dead. + Through his right hip, with forceful fury cast, + Between the bladder and the bone it pass'd; + Prone on his knees he falls with fruitless cries, + And death in lasting slumber seals his eyes. + + From Meges' force the swift Pedaeus fled, + Antenor's offspring from a foreign bed, + Whose generous spouse, Theanor, heavenly fair, + Nursed the young stranger with a mother's care. + How vain those cares! when Meges in the rear + Full in his nape infix'd the fatal spear; + Swift through his crackling jaws the weapon glides, + And the cold tongue and grinning teeth divides. + + Then died Hypsenor, generous and divine, + Sprung from the brave Dolopion's mighty line, + Who near adored Scamander made abode, + Priest of the stream, and honoured as a god. + On him, amidst the flying numbers found, + Eurypylus inflicts a deadly wound; + On his broad shoulders fell the forceful brand, + Thence glancing downwards, lopp'd his holy hand, + Which stain'd with sacred blood the blushing sand. + Down sunk the priest: the purple hand of death + Closed his dim eye, and fate suppress'd his breath. + + Thus toil'd the chiefs, in different parts engaged. + In every quarter fierce Tydides raged; + Amid the Greek, amid the Trojan train, + Rapt through the ranks he thunders o'er the plain; + Now here, now there, he darts from place to place, + Pours on the rear, or lightens in their face. + Thus from high hills the torrents swift and strong + Deluge whole fields, and sweep the trees along, + Through ruin'd moles the rushing wave resounds, + O'erwhelm's the bridge, and bursts the lofty bounds; + The yellow harvests of the ripen'd year, + And flatted vineyards, one sad waste appear!(144) + While Jove descends in sluicy sheets of rain, + And all the labours of mankind are vain. + + So raged Tydides, boundless in his ire, + Drove armies back, and made all Troy retire. + With grief the leader of the Lycian band + Saw the wide waste of his destructive hand: + His bended bow against the chief he drew; + Swift to the mark the thirsty arrow flew, + Whose forky point the hollow breastplate tore, + Deep in his shoulder pierced, and drank the gore: + The rushing stream his brazen armour dyed, + While the proud archer thus exulting cried: + + "Hither, ye Trojans, hither drive your steeds! + Lo! by our hand the bravest Grecian bleeds, + Not long the deathful dart he can sustain; + Or Phoebus urged me to these fields in vain." + So spoke he, boastful: but the winged dart + Stopp'd short of life, and mock'd the shooter's art. + The wounded chief, behind his car retired, + The helping hand of Sthenelus required; + Swift from his seat he leap'd upon the ground, + And tugg'd the weapon from the gushing wound; + When thus the king his guardian power address'd, + The purple current wandering o'er his vest: + + "O progeny of Jove! unconquer'd maid! + If e'er my godlike sire deserved thy aid, + If e'er I felt thee in the fighting field; + Now, goddess, now, thy sacred succour yield. + O give my lance to reach the Trojan knight, + Whose arrow wounds the chief thou guard'st in fight; + And lay the boaster grovelling on the shore, + That vaunts these eyes shall view the light no more." + + Thus pray'd Tydides, and Minerva heard, + His nerves confirm'd, his languid spirits cheer'd; + He feels each limb with wonted vigour light; + His beating bosom claim'd the promised fight. + "Be bold, (she cried), in every combat shine, + War be thy province, thy protection mine; + Rush to the fight, and every foe control; + Wake each paternal virtue in thy soul: + Strength swells thy boiling breast, infused by me, + And all thy godlike father breathes in thee; + Yet more, from mortal mists I purge thy eyes,(145) + And set to view the warring deities. + These see thou shun, through all the embattled plain; + Nor rashly strive where human force is vain. + If Venus mingle in the martial band, + Her shalt thou wound: so Pallas gives command." + + With that, the blue-eyed virgin wing'd her flight; + The hero rush'd impetuous to the fight; + With tenfold ardour now invades the plain, + Wild with delay, and more enraged by pain. + As on the fleecy flocks when hunger calls, + Amidst the field a brindled lion falls; + If chance some shepherd with a distant dart + The savage wound, he rouses at the smart, + He foams, he roars; the shepherd dares not stay, + But trembling leaves the scattering flocks a prey; + Heaps fall on heaps; he bathes with blood the ground, + Then leaps victorious o'er the lofty mound. + Not with less fury stern Tydides flew; + And two brave leaders at an instant slew; + Astynous breathless fell, and by his side, + His people's pastor, good Hypenor, died; + Astynous' breast the deadly lance receives, + Hypenor's shoulder his broad falchion cleaves. + Those slain he left, and sprung with noble rage + Abas and Polyidus to engage; + Sons of Eurydamus, who, wise and old, + Could fate foresee, and mystic dreams unfold; + The youths return'd not from the doubtful plain, + And the sad father tried his arts in vain; + No mystic dream could make their fates appear, + Though now determined by Tydides' spear. + + Young Xanthus next, and Thoon felt his rage; + The joy and hope of Phaenops' feeble age: + Vast was his wealth, and these the only heirs + Of all his labours and a life of cares. + Cold death o'ertakes them in their blooming years, + And leaves the father unavailing tears: + To strangers now descends his heapy store, + The race forgotten, and the name no more. + + Two sons of Priam in one chariot ride, + Glittering in arms, and combat side by side. + As when the lordly lion seeks his food + Where grazing heifers range the lonely wood, + He leaps amidst them with a furious bound, + Bends their strong necks, and tears them to the ground: + So from their seats the brother chiefs are torn, + Their steeds and chariot to the navy borne. + + With deep concern divine AEneas view'd + The foe prevailing, and his friends pursued; + Through the thick storm of singing spears he flies, + Exploring Pandarus with careful eyes. + At length he found Lycaon's mighty son; + To whom the chief of Venus' race begun: + + "Where, Pandarus, are all thy honours now, + Thy winged arrows and unerring bow, + Thy matchless skill, thy yet unrivall'd fame, + And boasted glory of the Lycian name? + O pierce that mortal! if we mortal call + That wondrous force by which whole armies fall; + Or god incensed, who quits the distant skies + To punish Troy for slighted sacrifice; + (Which, oh avert from our unhappy state! + For what so dreadful as celestial hate)? + Whoe'er he be, propitiate Jove with prayer; + If man, destroy; if god, entreat to spare." + + To him the Lycian: "Whom your eyes behold, + If right I judge, is Diomed the bold: + Such coursers whirl him o'er the dusty field, + So towers his helmet, and so flames his shield. + If 'tis a god, he wears that chief's disguise: + Or if that chief, some guardian of the skies, + Involved in clouds, protects him in the fray, + And turns unseen the frustrate dart away. + I wing'd an arrow, which not idly fell, + The stroke had fix'd him to the gates of hell; + And, but some god, some angry god withstands, + His fate was due to these unerring hands. + Skill'd in the bow, on foot I sought the war, + Nor join'd swift horses to the rapid car. + Ten polish'd chariots I possess'd at home, + And still they grace Lycaon's princely dome: + There veil'd in spacious coverlets they stand; + And twice ten coursers wait their lord's command. + The good old warrior bade me trust to these, + When first for Troy I sail'd the sacred seas; + In fields, aloft, the whirling car to guide, + And through the ranks of death triumphant ride. + But vain with youth, and yet to thrift inclined, + I heard his counsels with unheedful mind, + And thought the steeds (your large supplies unknown) + Might fail of forage in the straiten'd town; + So took my bow and pointed darts in hand + And left the chariots in my native land. + + "Too late, O friend! my rashness I deplore; + These shafts, once fatal, carry death no more. + Tydeus' and Atreus' sons their points have found, + And undissembled gore pursued the wound. + In vain they bleed: this unavailing bow + Serves, not to slaughter, but provoke the foe. + In evil hour these bended horns I strung, + And seized the quiver where it idly hung. + Cursed be the fate that sent me to the field + Without a warrior's arms, the spear and shield! + If e'er with life I quit the Trojan plain, + If e'er I see my spouse and sire again, + This bow, unfaithful to my glorious aims, + Broke by my hand, shall feed the blazing flames." + + To whom the leader of the Dardan race: + "Be calm, nor Phoebus' honour'd gift disgrace. + The distant dart be praised, though here we need + The rushing chariot and the bounding steed. + Against yon hero let us bend our course, + And, hand to hand, encounter force with force. + Now mount my seat, and from the chariot's height + Observe my father's steeds, renown'd in fight; + Practised alike to turn, to stop, to chase, + To dare the shock, or urge the rapid race; + Secure with these, through fighting fields we go; + Or safe to Troy, if Jove assist the foe. + Haste, seize the whip, and snatch the guiding rein; + The warrior's fury let this arm sustain; + Or, if to combat thy bold heart incline, + Take thou the spear, the chariot's care be mine." + + "O prince! (Lycaon's valiant son replied) + As thine the steeds, be thine the task to guide. + The horses, practised to their lord's command, + Shall bear the rein, and answer to thy hand; + But, if, unhappy, we desert the fight, + Thy voice alone can animate their flight; + Else shall our fates be number'd with the dead, + And these, the victor's prize, in triumph led. + Thine be the guidance, then: with spear and shield + Myself will charge this terror of the field." + + And now both heroes mount the glittering car; + The bounding coursers rush amidst the war; + Their fierce approach bold Sthenelus espied, + Who thus, alarm'd, to great Tydides cried: + + "O friend! two chiefs of force immense I see, + Dreadful they come, and bend their rage on thee: + Lo the brave heir of old Lycaon's line, + And great AEneas, sprung from race divine! + Enough is given to fame. Ascend thy car! + And save a life, the bulwark of our war." + + At this the hero cast a gloomy look, + Fix'd on the chief with scorn; and thus he spoke: + + "Me dost thou bid to shun the coming fight? + Me wouldst thou move to base, inglorious flight? + Know, 'tis not honest in my soul to fear, + Nor was Tydides born to tremble here. + I hate the cumbrous chariot's slow advance, + And the long distance of the flying lance; + But while my nerves are strong, my force entire, + Thus front the foe, and emulate my sire. + Nor shall yon steeds, that fierce to fight convey + Those threatening heroes, bear them both away; + One chief at least beneath this arm shall die; + So Pallas tells me, and forbids to fly. + But if she dooms, and if no god withstand, + That both shall fall by one victorious hand, + Then heed my words: my horses here detain, + Fix'd to the chariot by the straiten'd rein; + Swift to AEneas' empty seat proceed, + And seize the coursers of ethereal breed; + The race of those, which once the thundering god(146) + For ravish'd Ganymede on Tros bestow'd, + The best that e'er on earth's broad surface run, + Beneath the rising or the setting sun. + Hence great Anchises stole a breed unknown, + By mortal mares, from fierce Laomedon: + Four of this race his ample stalls contain, + And two transport AEneas o'er the plain. + These, were the rich immortal prize our own, + Through the wide world should make our glory known." + + Thus while they spoke, the foe came furious on, + And stern Lycaon's warlike race begun: + + "Prince, thou art met. Though late in vain assail'd, + The spear may enter where the arrow fail'd." + + He said, then shook the ponderous lance, and flung; + On his broad shield the sounding weapon rung, + Pierced the tough orb, and in his cuirass hung, + "He bleeds! the pride of Greece! (the boaster cries,) + Our triumph now, the mighty warrior lies!" + "Mistaken vaunter! (Diomed replied;) + Thy dart has erred, and now my spear be tried; + Ye 'scape not both; one, headlong from his car, + With hostile blood shall glut the god of war." + + He spoke, and rising hurl'd his forceful dart, + Which, driven by Pallas, pierced a vital part; + Full in his face it enter'd, and betwixt + The nose and eye-ball the proud Lycian fix'd; + Crash'd all his jaws, and cleft the tongue within, + Till the bright point look'd out beneath the chin. + Headlong he falls, his helmet knocks the ground: + Earth groans beneath him, and his arms resound; + The starting coursers tremble with affright; + The soul indignant seeks the realms of night. + + To guard his slaughter'd friend, AEneas flies, + His spear extending where the carcase lies; + Watchful he wheels, protects it every way, + As the grim lion stalks around his prey. + O'er the fall'n trunk his ample shield display'd, + He hides the hero with his mighty shade, + And threats aloud! the Greeks with longing eyes + Behold at distance, but forbear the prize. + Then fierce Tydides stoops; and from the fields + Heaved with vast force, a rocky fragment wields. + Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise, + Such men as live in these degenerate days:(147) + He swung it round; and, gathering strength to throw, + Discharged the ponderous ruin at the foe. + Where to the hip the inserted thigh unites, + Full on the bone the pointed marble lights; + Through both the tendons broke the rugged stone, + And stripp'd the skin, and crack'd the solid bone. + Sunk on his knees, and staggering with his pains, + His falling bulk his bended arm sustains; + Lost in a dizzy mist the warrior lies; + A sudden cloud comes swimming o'er his eyes. + There the brave chief, who mighty numbers sway'd, + Oppress'd had sunk to death's eternal shade, + But heavenly Venus, mindful of the love + She bore Anchises in the Idaean grove, + His danger views with anguish and despair, + And guards her offspring with a mother's care. + About her much-loved son her arms she throws, + Her arms whose whiteness match the falling snows. + Screen'd from the foe behind her shining veil, + The swords wave harmless, and the javelins fail; + Safe through the rushing horse, and feather'd flight + Of sounding shafts, she bears him from the fight. + + Nor Sthenelus, with unassisting hands, + Remain'd unheedful of his lord's commands: + His panting steeds, removed from out the war, + He fix'd with straiten'd traces to the car, + Next, rushing to the Dardan spoil, detains + The heavenly coursers with the flowing manes: + These in proud triumph to the fleet convey'd, + No longer now a Trojan lord obey'd. + That charge to bold Deipylus he gave, + (Whom most he loved, as brave men love the brave,) + Then mounting on his car, resumed the rein, + And follow'd where Tydides swept the plain. + + Meanwhile (his conquest ravished from his eyes) + The raging chief in chase of Venus flies: + No goddess she, commission'd to the field, + Like Pallas dreadful with her sable shield, + Or fierce Bellona thundering at the wall, + While flames ascend, and mighty ruins fall; + He knew soft combats suit the tender dame, + New to the field, and still a foe to fame. + Through breaking ranks his furious course he bends, + And at the goddess his broad lance extends; + Through her bright veil the daring weapon drove, + The ambrosial veil which all the Graces wove; + Her snowy hand the razing steel profaned, + And the transparent skin with crimson stain'd, + From the clear vein a stream immortal flow'd, + Such stream as issues from a wounded god;(148) + Pure emanation! uncorrupted flood! + Unlike our gross, diseased, terrestrial blood: + (For not the bread of man their life sustains, + Nor wine's inflaming juice supplies their veins:) + With tender shrieks the goddess fill'd the place, + And dropp'd her offspring from her weak embrace. + Him Phoebus took: he casts a cloud around + The fainting chief, and wards the mortal wound. + + Then with a voice that shook the vaulted skies, + The king insults the goddess as she flies: + "Ill with Jove's daughter bloody fights agree, + The field of combat is no scene for thee: + Go, let thy own soft sex employ thy care, + Go, lull the coward, or delude the fair. + Taught by this stroke renounce the war's alarms, + And learn to tremble at the name of arms." + + Tydides thus. The goddess, seized with dread, + Confused, distracted, from the conflict fled. + To aid her, swift the winged Iris flew, + Wrapt in a mist above the warring crew. + The queen of love with faded charms she found. + Pale was her cheek, and livid look'd the wound. + To Mars, who sat remote, they bent their way: + Far, on the left, with clouds involved he lay; + Beside him stood his lance, distain'd with gore, + And, rein'd with gold, his foaming steeds before. + Low at his knee, she begg'd with streaming eyes + Her brother's car, to mount the distant skies, + And show'd the wound by fierce Tydides given, + A mortal man, who dares encounter heaven. + Stern Mars attentive hears the queen complain, + And to her hand commits the golden rein; + She mounts the seat, oppress'd with silent woe, + Driven by the goddess of the painted bow. + The lash resounds, the rapid chariot flies, + And in a moment scales the lofty skies: + They stopp'd the car, and there the coursers stood, + Fed by fair Iris with ambrosial food; + Before her mother, love's bright queen appears, + O'erwhelmed with anguish, and dissolved in tears: + She raised her in her arms, beheld her bleed, + And ask'd what god had wrought this guilty deed? + + [Illustration: VENUS, WOUNDED IN THE HAND, CONDUCTED BY IRIS TO MARS.] + + VENUS, WOUNDED IN THE HAND, CONDUCTED BY IRIS TO MARS. + + + Then she: "This insult from no god I found, + An impious mortal gave the daring wound! + Behold the deed of haughty Diomed! + 'Twas in the son's defence the mother bled. + The war with Troy no more the Grecians wage; + But with the gods (the immortal gods) engage." + + Dione then: "Thy wrongs with patience bear, + And share those griefs inferior powers must share: + Unnumber'd woes mankind from us sustain, + And men with woes afflict the gods again. + The mighty Mars in mortal fetters bound,(149) + And lodged in brazen dungeons underground, + Full thirteen moons imprison'd roar'd in vain; + Otus and Ephialtes held the chain: + Perhaps had perish'd had not Hermes' care + Restored the groaning god to upper air. + Great Juno's self has borne her weight of pain, + The imperial partner of the heavenly reign; + Amphitryon's son infix'd the deadly dart,(150) + And fill'd with anguish her immortal heart. + E'en hell's grim king Alcides' power confess'd, + The shaft found entrance in his iron breast; + To Jove's high palace for a cure he fled, + Pierced in his own dominions of the dead; + Where Paeon, sprinkling heavenly balm around, + Assuaged the glowing pangs, and closed the wound. + Rash, impious man! to stain the bless'd abodes, + And drench his arrows in the blood of gods! + + [Illustration: OTUS AND EPHIALTES HOLDING MARS CAPTIVE.] + + OTUS AND EPHIALTES HOLDING MARS CAPTIVE. + + + "But thou (though Pallas urged thy frantic deed), + Whose spear ill-fated makes a goddess bleed, + Know thou, whoe'er with heavenly power contends, + Short is his date, and soon his glory ends; + From fields of death when late he shall retire, + No infant on his knees shall call him sire. + Strong as thou art, some god may yet be found, + To stretch thee pale and gasping on the ground; + Thy distant wife, AEgiale the fair,(151) + Starting from sleep with a distracted air, + Shall rouse thy slaves, and her lost lord deplore, + The brave, the great, the glorious now no more!" + + This said, she wiped from Venus' wounded palm + The sacred ichor, and infused the balm. + Juno and Pallas with a smile survey'd, + And thus to Jove began the blue-eyed maid: + + "Permit thy daughter, gracious Jove! to tell + How this mischance the Cyprian queen befell, + As late she tried with passion to inflame + The tender bosom of a Grecian dame; + Allured the fair, with moving thoughts of joy, + To quit her country for some youth of Troy; + The clasping zone, with golden buckles bound, + Razed her soft hand with this lamented wound." + + The sire of gods and men superior smiled, + And, calling Venus, thus address'd his child: + "Not these, O daughter are thy proper cares, + Thee milder arts befit, and softer wars; + Sweet smiles are thine, and kind endearing charms; + To Mars and Pallas leave the deeds of arms." + + Thus they in heaven: while on the plain below + The fierce Tydides charged his Dardan foe, + Flush'd with celestial blood pursued his way, + And fearless dared the threatening god of day; + Already in his hopes he saw him kill'd, + Though screen'd behind Apollo's mighty shield. + Thrice rushing furious, at the chief he strook; + His blazing buckler thrice Apollo shook: + He tried the fourth: when, breaking from the cloud, + A more than mortal voice was heard aloud. + + "O son of Tydeus, cease! be wise and see + How vast the difference of the gods and thee; + Distance immense! between the powers that shine + Above, eternal, deathless, and divine, + And mortal man! a wretch of humble birth, + A short-lived reptile in the dust of earth." + + So spoke the god who darts celestial fires: + He dreads his fury, and some steps retires. + Then Phoebus bore the chief of Venus' race + To Troy's high fane, and to his holy place; + Latona there and Phoebe heal'd the wound, + With vigour arm'd him, and with glory crown'd. + This done, the patron of the silver bow + A phantom raised, the same in shape and show + With great AEneas; such the form he bore, + And such in fight the radiant arms he wore. + Around the spectre bloody wars are waged, + And Greece and Troy with clashing shields engaged. + Meantime on Ilion's tower Apollo stood, + And calling Mars, thus urged the raging god: + + "Stern power of arms, by whom the mighty fall; + Who bathest in blood, and shakest the embattled wall, + Rise in thy wrath! to hell's abhorr'd abodes + Despatch yon Greek, and vindicate the gods. + First rosy Venus felt his brutal rage; + Me next he charged, and dares all heaven engage: + The wretch would brave high heaven's immortal sire, + His triple thunder, and his bolts of fire." + + The god of battle issues on the plain, + Stirs all the ranks, and fires the Trojan train; + In form like Acamas, the Thracian guide, + Enraged to Troy's retiring chiefs he cried: + + "How long, ye sons of Priam! will ye fly, + And unrevenged see Priam's people die? + Still unresisted shall the foe destroy, + And stretch the slaughter to the gates of Troy? + Lo, brave AEneas sinks beneath his wound, + Not godlike Hector more in arms renown'd: + Haste all, and take the generous warrior's part. + He said;--new courage swell'd each hero's heart. + Sarpedon first his ardent soul express'd, + And, turn'd to Hector, these bold words address'd: + + "Say, chief, is all thy ancient valour lost? + Where are thy threats, and where thy glorious boast, + That propp'd alone by Priam's race should stand + Troy's sacred walls, nor need a foreign hand? + Now, now thy country calls her wonted friends, + And the proud vaunt in just derision ends. + Remote they stand while alien troops engage, + Like trembling hounds before the lion's rage. + Far distant hence I held my wide command, + Where foaming Xanthus laves the Lycian land; + With ample wealth (the wish of mortals) bless'd, + A beauteous wife, and infant at her breast; + With those I left whatever dear could be: + Greece, if she conquers, nothing wins from me; + Yet first in fight my Lycian bands I cheer, + And long to meet this mighty man ye fear; + While Hector idle stands, nor bids the brave + Their wives, their infants, and their altars save. + Haste, warrior, haste! preserve thy threaten'd state, + Or one vast burst of all-involving fate + Full o'er your towers shall fall, and sweep away + Sons, sires, and wives, an undistinguish'd prey. + Rouse all thy Trojans, urge thy aids to fight; + These claim thy thoughts by day, thy watch by night; + With force incessant the brave Greeks oppose; + Such cares thy friends deserve, and such thy foes." + + Stung to the heart the generous Hector hears, + But just reproof with decent silence bears. + From his proud car the prince impetuous springs, + On earth he leaps, his brazen armour rings. + Two shining spears are brandish'd in his hands; + Thus arm'd, he animates his drooping bands, + Revives their ardour, turns their steps from flight, + And wakes anew the dying flames of fight. + They turn, they stand; the Greeks their fury dare, + Condense their powers, and wait the growing war. + + As when, on Ceres' sacred floor, the swain + Spreads the wide fan to clear the golden grain, + And the light chaff, before the breezes borne, + Ascends in clouds from off the heapy corn; + The grey dust, rising with collected winds, + Drives o'er the barn, and whitens all the hinds: + So white with dust the Grecian host appears. + From trampling steeds, and thundering charioteers; + The dusky clouds from labour'd earth arise, + And roll in smoking volumes to the skies. + Mars hovers o'er them with his sable shield, + And adds new horrors to the darken'd field: + Pleased with his charge, and ardent to fulfil, + In Troy's defence, Apollo's heavenly will: + Soon as from fight the blue-eyed maid retires, + Each Trojan bosom with new warmth he fires. + And now the god, from forth his sacred fane, + Produced AEneas to the shouting train; + Alive, unharm'd, with all his peers around, + Erect he stood, and vigorous from his wound: + Inquiries none they made; the dreadful day + No pause of words admits, no dull delay; + Fierce Discord storms, Apollo loud exclaims, + Fame calls, Mars thunders, and the field's in flames. + + Stern Diomed with either Ajax stood, + And great Ulysses, bathed in hostile blood. + Embodied close, the labouring Grecian train + The fiercest shock of charging hosts sustain. + Unmoved and silent, the whole war they wait + Serenely dreadful, and as fix'd as fate. + So when the embattled clouds in dark array, + Along the skies their gloomy lines display; + When now the North his boisterous rage has spent, + And peaceful sleeps the liquid element: + The low-hung vapours, motionless and still, + Rest on the summits of the shaded hill; + Till the mass scatters as the winds arise, + Dispersed and broken through the ruffled skies. + + Nor was the general wanting to his train; + From troop to troop he toils through all the plain, + "Ye Greeks, be men! the charge of battle bear; + Your brave associates and yourselves revere! + Let glorious acts more glorious acts inspire, + And catch from breast to breast the noble fire! + On valour's side the odds of combat lie, + The brave live glorious, or lamented die; + The wretch who trembles in the field of fame, + Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame!" + + These words he seconds with his flying lance, + To meet whose point was strong Deicoon's chance: + AEneas' friend, and in his native place + Honour'd and loved like Priam's royal race: + Long had he fought the foremost in the field, + But now the monarch's lance transpierced his shield: + His shield too weak the furious dart to stay, + Through his broad belt the weapon forced its way: + The grisly wound dismiss'd his soul to hell, + His arms around him rattled as he fell. + + Then fierce AEneas, brandishing his blade, + In dust Orsilochus and Crethon laid, + Whose sire Diocleus, wealthy, brave and great, + In well-built Pherae held his lofty seat:(152) + Sprung from Alpheus' plenteous stream, that yields + Increase of harvests to the Pylian fields. + He got Orsilochus, Diocleus he, + And these descended in the third degree. + Too early expert in the martial toil, + In sable ships they left their native soil, + To avenge Atrides: now, untimely slain, + They fell with glory on the Phrygian plain. + So two young mountain lions, nursed with blood + In deep recesses of the gloomy wood, + Rush fearless to the plains, and uncontroll'd + Depopulate the stalls and waste the fold: + Till pierced at distance from their native den, + O'erpowered they fall beneath the force of men. + Prostrate on earth their beauteous bodies lay, + Like mountain firs, as tall and straight as they. + Great Menelaus views with pitying eyes, + Lifts his bright lance, and at the victor flies; + Mars urged him on; yet, ruthless in his hate, + The god but urged him to provoke his fate. + He thus advancing, Nestor's valiant son + Shakes for his danger, and neglects his own; + Struck with the thought, should Helen's lord be slain, + And all his country's glorious labours vain. + Already met, the threatening heroes stand; + The spears already tremble in their hand: + In rush'd Antilochus, his aid to bring, + And fall or conquer by the Spartan king. + These seen, the Dardan backward turn'd his course, + Brave as he was, and shunn'd unequal force. + The breathless bodies to the Greeks they drew, + Then mix in combat, and their toils renew. + + First, Pylaemenes, great in battle, bled, + Who sheathed in brass the Paphlagonians led. + Atrides mark'd him where sublime he stood; + Fix'd in his throat the javelin drank his blood. + The faithful Mydon, as he turn'd from fight + His flying coursers, sunk to endless night; + A broken rock by Nestor's son was thrown: + His bended arm received the falling stone; + From his numb'd hand the ivory-studded reins, + Dropp'd in the dust, are trail'd along the plains: + Meanwhile his temples feel a deadly wound; + He groans in death, and ponderous sinks to ground: + Deep drove his helmet in the sands, and there + The head stood fix'd, the quivering legs in air, + Till trampled flat beneath the coursers' feet: + The youthful victor mounts his empty seat, + And bears the prize in triumph to the fleet. + + Great Hector saw, and, raging at the view, + Pours on the Greeks: the Trojan troops pursue: + He fires his host with animating cries, + And brings along the furies of the skies, + Mars, stern destroyer! and Bellona dread, + Flame in the front, and thunder at their head: + This swells the tumult and the rage of fight; + That shakes a spear that casts a dreadful light. + Where Hector march'd, the god of battles shined, + Now storm'd before him, and now raged behind. + + Tydides paused amidst his full career; + Then first the hero's manly breast knew fear. + As when some simple swain his cot forsakes, + And wide through fens an unknown journey takes: + If chance a swelling brook his passage stay, + And foam impervious 'cross the wanderer's way, + Confused he stops, a length of country pass'd, + Eyes the rough waves, and tired, returns at last. + Amazed no less the great Tydides stands: + He stay'd, and turning thus address'd his bands: + + "No wonder, Greeks! that all to Hector yield; + Secure of favouring gods, he takes the field; + His strokes they second, and avert our spears. + Behold where Mars in mortal arms appears! + Retire then, warriors, but sedate and slow; + Retire, but with your faces to the foe. + Trust not too much your unavailing might; + 'Tis not with Troy, but with the gods ye fight." + + Now near the Greeks the black battalions drew; + And first two leaders valiant Hector slew: + His force Anchialus and Mnesthes found, + In every art of glorious war renown'd; + In the same car the chiefs to combat ride, + And fought united, and united died. + Struck at the sight, the mighty Ajax glows + With thirst of vengeance, and assaults the foes. + His massy spear with matchless fury sent, + Through Amphius' belt and heaving belly went; + Amphius Apaesus' happy soil possess'd, + With herds abounding, and with treasure bless'd; + But fate resistless from his country led + The chief, to perish at his people's head. + Shook with his fall his brazen armour rung, + And fierce, to seize it, conquering Ajax sprung; + Around his head an iron tempest rain'd; + A wood of spears his ample shield sustain'd: + Beneath one foot the yet warm corpse he press'd, + And drew his javelin from the bleeding breast: + He could no more; the showering darts denied + To spoil his glittering arms, and plumy pride. + Now foes on foes came pouring on the fields, + With bristling lances, and compacted shields; + Till in the steely circle straiten'd round, + Forced he gives way, and sternly quits the ground. + + While thus they strive, Tlepolemus the great,(153) + Urged by the force of unresisted fate, + Burns with desire Sarpedon's strength to prove; + Alcides' offspring meets the son of Jove. + Sheathed in bright arms each adverse chief came on. + Jove's great descendant, and his greater son. + Prepared for combat, ere the lance he toss'd, + The daring Rhodian vents his haughty boast: + + "What brings this Lycian counsellor so far, + To tremble at our arms, not mix in war! + Know thy vain self, nor let their flattery move, + Who style thee son of cloud-compelling Jove. + How far unlike those chiefs of race divine, + How vast the difference of their deeds and thine! + Jove got such heroes as my sire, whose soul + No fear could daunt, nor earth nor hell control. + Troy felt his arm, and yon proud ramparts stand + Raised on the ruins of his vengeful hand: + With six small ships, and but a slender train, + lie left the town a wide-deserted plain. + But what art thou, who deedless look'st around, + While unrevenged thy Lycians bite the ground! + Small aid to Troy thy feeble force can be; + But wert thou greater, thou must yield to me. + Pierced by my spear, to endless darkness go! + I make this present to the shades below." + + The son of Hercules, the Rhodian guide, + Thus haughty spoke. The Lycian king replied: + + "Thy sire, O prince! o'erturn'd the Trojan state, + Whose perjured monarch well deserved his fate; + Those heavenly steeds the hero sought so far, + False he detain'd, the just reward of war. + Nor so content, the generous chief defied, + With base reproaches and unmanly pride. + But you, unworthy the high race you boast, + Shall raise my glory when thy own is lost: + Now meet thy fate, and by Sarpedon slain, + Add one more ghost to Pluto's gloomy reign." + + He said: both javelins at an instant flew; + Both struck, both wounded, but Sarpedon's slew: + Full in the boaster's neck the weapon stood, + Transfix'd his throat, and drank the vital blood; + The soul disdainful seeks the caves of night, + And his seal'd eyes for ever lose the light. + + Yet not in vain, Tlepolemus, was thrown + Thy angry lance; which piercing to the bone + Sarpedon's thigh, had robb'd the chief of breath; + But Jove was present, and forbade the death. + Borne from the conflict by his Lycian throng, + The wounded hero dragg'd the lance along. + (His friends, each busied in his several part, + Through haste, or danger, had not drawn the dart.) + The Greeks with slain Tlepolemus retired; + Whose fall Ulysses view'd, with fury fired; + Doubtful if Jove's great son he should pursue, + Or pour his vengeance on the Lycian crew. + But heaven and fate the first design withstand, + Nor this great death must grace Ulysses' hand. + Minerva drives him on the Lycian train; + Alastor, Cronius, Halius, strew'd the plain, + Alcander, Prytanis, Noemon fell:(154) + And numbers more his sword had sent to hell, + But Hector saw; and, furious at the sight, + Rush'd terrible amidst the ranks of fight. + With joy Sarpedon view'd the wish'd relief, + And, faint, lamenting, thus implored the chief: + + "O suffer not the foe to bear away + My helpless corpse, an unassisted prey; + If I, unbless'd, must see my son no more, + My much-loved consort, and my native shore, + Yet let me die in Ilion's sacred wall; + Troy, in whose cause I fell, shall mourn my fall." + + He said, nor Hector to the chief replies, + But shakes his plume, and fierce to combat flies; + Swift as a whirlwind, drives the scattering foes; + And dyes the ground with purple as he goes. + + Beneath a beech, Jove's consecrated shade, + His mournful friends divine Sarpedon laid: + Brave Pelagon, his favourite chief, was nigh, + Who wrench'd the javelin from his sinewy thigh. + The fainting soul stood ready wing'd for flight, + And o'er his eye-balls swam the shades of night; + But Boreas rising fresh, with gentle breath, + Recall'd his spirit from the gates of death. + + The generous Greeks recede with tardy pace, + Though Mars and Hector thunder in their face; + None turn their backs to mean ignoble flight, + Slow they retreat, and even retreating fight. + Who first, who last, by Mars' and Hector's hand, + Stretch'd in their blood, lay gasping on the sand? + Tenthras the great, Orestes the renown'd + For managed steeds, and Trechus press'd the ground;, + Next OEnomaus and OEnops' offspring died; + Oresbius last fell groaning at their side: + Oresbius, in his painted mitre gay, + In fat Boeotia held his wealthy sway, + Where lakes surround low Hyle's watery plain; + A prince and people studious of their gain. + + The carnage Juno from the skies survey'd, + And touch'd with grief bespoke the blue-eyed maid: + "Oh, sight accursed! Shall faithless Troy prevail, + And shall our promise to our people fail? + How vain the word to Menelaus given + By Jove's great daughter and the queen of heaven, + Beneath his arms that Priam's towers should fall, + If warring gods for ever guard the wall! + Mars, red with slaughter, aids our hated foes: + Haste, let us arm, and force with force oppose!" + + She spoke; Minerva burns to meet the war: + And now heaven's empress calls her blazing car. + At her command rush forth the steeds divine; + Rich with immortal gold their trappings shine. + Bright Hebe waits; by Hebe, ever young, + The whirling wheels are to the chariot hung. + On the bright axle turns the bidden wheel + Of sounding brass; the polished axle steel. + Eight brazen spokes in radiant order flame; + The circles gold, of uncorrupted frame, + Such as the heavens produce: and round the gold + Two brazen rings of work divine were roll'd. + The bossy naves of sold silver shone; + Braces of gold suspend the moving throne: + The car, behind, an arching figure bore; + The bending concave form'd an arch before. + Silver the beam, the extended yoke was gold, + And golden reins the immortal coursers hold. + Herself, impatient, to the ready car, + The coursers joins, and breathes revenge and war. + + Pallas disrobes; her radiant veil untied, + With flowers adorn'd, with art diversified, + (The laboured veil her heavenly fingers wove,) + Flows on the pavement of the court of Jove. + Now heaven's dread arms her mighty limbs invest, + Jove's cuirass blazes on her ample breast; + Deck'd in sad triumph for the mournful field, + O'er her broad shoulders hangs his horrid shield, + Dire, black, tremendous! Round the margin roll'd, + A fringe of serpents hissing guards the gold: + Here all the terrors of grim War appear, + Here rages Force, here tremble Flight and Fear, + Here storm'd Contention, and here Fury frown'd, + And the dire orb portentous Gorgon crown'd. + The massy golden helm she next assumes, + That dreadful nods with four o'ershading plumes; + So vast, the broad circumference contains + A hundred armies on a hundred plains. + The goddess thus the imperial car ascends; + Shook by her arm the mighty javelin bends, + Ponderous and huge; that when her fury burns, + Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns. + + Swift at the scourge the ethereal coursers fly, + While the smooth chariot cuts the liquid sky. + Heaven's gates spontaneous open to the powers,(155) + Heaven's golden gates, kept by the winged Hours;(156) + Commission'd in alternate watch they stand, + The sun's bright portals and the skies command, + Involve in clouds the eternal gates of day, + Or the dark barrier roll with ease away. + The sounding hinges ring on either side + The gloomy volumes, pierced with light, divide. + The chariot mounts, where deep in ambient skies, + Confused, Olympus' hundred heads arise; + Where far apart the Thunderer fills his throne, + O'er all the gods superior and alone. + There with her snowy hand the queen restrains + The fiery steeds, and thus to Jove complains: + + "O sire! can no resentment touch thy soul? + Can Mars rebel, and does no thunder roll? + What lawless rage on yon forbidden plain, + What rash destruction! and what heroes slain! + Venus, and Phoebus with the dreadful bow, + Smile on the slaughter, and enjoy my woe. + Mad, furious power! whose unrelenting mind + No god can govern, and no justice bind. + Say, mighty father! shall we scourge this pride, + And drive from fight the impetuous homicide?" + + To whom assenting, thus the Thunderer said: + "Go! and the great Minerva be thy aid. + To tame the monster-god Minerva knows, + And oft afflicts his brutal breast with woes." + + He said; Saturnia, ardent to obey, + Lash'd her white steeds along the aerial way + Swift down the steep of heaven the chariot rolls, + Between the expanded earth and starry poles + Far as a shepherd, from some point on high,(157) + O'er the wide main extends his boundless eye, + Through such a space of air, with thundering sound, + At every leap the immortal coursers bound + Troy now they reach'd and touch'd those banks divine, + Where silver Simois and Scamander join + There Juno stopp'd, and (her fair steeds unloosed) + Of air condensed a vapour circumfused + For these, impregnate with celestial dew, + On Simois, brink ambrosial herbage grew. + Thence to relieve the fainting Argive throng, + Smooth as the sailing doves they glide along. + + The best and bravest of the Grecian band + (A warlike circle) round Tydides stand. + Such was their look as lions bathed in blood, + Or foaming boars, the terror of the wood + Heaven's empress mingles with the mortal crowd, + And shouts, in Stentor's sounding voice, aloud; + Stentor the strong, endued with brazen lungs,(158) + Whose throats surpass'd the force of fifty tongues. + + "Inglorious Argives! to your race a shame, + And only men in figure and in name! + Once from the walls your timorous foes engaged, + While fierce in war divine Achilles raged; + Now issuing fearless they possess the plain, + Now win the shores, and scarce the seas remain." + + Her speech new fury to their hearts convey'd; + While near Tydides stood the Athenian maid; + The king beside his panting steeds she found, + O'erspent with toil reposing on the ground; + To cool his glowing wound he sat apart, + (The wound inflicted by the Lycian dart.) + Large drops of sweat from all his limbs descend, + Beneath his ponderous shield his sinews bend, + Whose ample belt, that o'er his shoulder lay, + He eased; and wash'd the clotted gore away. + The goddess leaning o'er the bending yoke, + Beside his coursers, thus her silence broke: + + "Degenerate prince! and not of Tydeus' kind, + Whose little body lodged a mighty mind; + Foremost he press'd in glorious toils to share, + And scarce refrain'd when I forbade the war. + Alone, unguarded, once he dared to go, + And feast, incircled by the Theban foe; + There braved, and vanquish'd, many a hardy knight; + Such nerves I gave him, and such force in fight. + Thou too no less hast been my constant care; + Thy hands I arm'd, and sent thee forth to war: + But thee or fear deters, or sloth detains; + No drop of all thy father warms thy veins." + + The chief thus answered mild: "Immortal maid! + I own thy presence, and confess thy aid. + Not fear, thou know'st, withholds me from the plains, + Nor sloth hath seized me, but thy word restrains: + From warring gods thou bad'st me turn my spear, + And Venus only found resistance here. + Hence, goddess! heedful of thy high commands, + Loth I gave way, and warn'd our Argive bands: + For Mars, the homicide, these eyes beheld, + With slaughter red, and raging round the field." + + Then thus Minerva:--"Brave Tydides, hear! + Not Mars himself, nor aught immortal, fear. + Full on the god impel thy foaming horse: + Pallas commands, and Pallas lends thee force. + Rash, furious, blind, from these to those he flies, + And every side of wavering combat tries; + Large promise makes, and breaks the promise made: + Now gives the Grecians, now the Trojans aid."(159) + + She said, and to the steeds approaching near, + Drew from his seat the martial charioteer. + The vigorous power the trembling car ascends, + Fierce for revenge; and Diomed attends: + The groaning axle bent beneath the load; + So great a hero, and so great a god. + She snatch'd the reins, she lash'd with all her force, + And full on Mars impelled the foaming horse: + But first, to hide her heavenly visage, spread + Black Orcus' helmet o'er her radiant head. + + [Illustration: DIOMED CASTING HIS SPEAR AT MARS.] + + DIOMED CASTING HIS SPEAR AT MARS. + + + Just then gigantic Periphas lay slain, + The strongest warrior of the AEtolian train; + The god, who slew him, leaves his prostrate prize + Stretch'd where he fell, and at Tydides flies. + Now rushing fierce, in equal arms appear + The daring Greek, the dreadful god of war! + Full at the chief, above his courser's head, + From Mars's arm the enormous weapon fled: + Pallas opposed her hand, and caused to glance + Far from the car the strong immortal lance. + Then threw the force of Tydeus' warlike son; + The javelin hiss'd; the goddess urged it on: + Where the broad cincture girt his armour round, + It pierced the god: his groin received the wound. + From the rent skin the warrior tugs again + The smoking steel. Mars bellows with the pain: + Loud as the roar encountering armies yield, + When shouting millions shake the thundering field. + Both armies start, and trembling gaze around; + And earth and heaven re-bellow to the sound. + As vapours blown by Auster's sultry breath, + Pregnant with plagues, and shedding seeds of death, + Beneath the rage of burning Sirius rise, + Choke the parch'd earth, and blacken all the skies; + In such a cloud the god from combat driven, + High o'er the dusky whirlwind scales the heaven. + Wild with his pain, he sought the bright abodes, + There sullen sat beneath the sire of gods, + Show'd the celestial blood, and with a groan + Thus pour'd his plaints before the immortal throne: + + "Can Jove, supine, flagitious facts survey, + And brook the furies of this daring day? + For mortal men celestial powers engage, + And gods on gods exert eternal rage: + From thee, O father! all these ills we bear, + And thy fell daughter with the shield and spear; + Thou gavest that fury to the realms of light, + Pernicious, wild, regardless of the right. + All heaven beside reveres thy sovereign sway, + Thy voice we hear, and thy behests obey: + 'Tis hers to offend, and even offending share + Thy breast, thy counsels, thy distinguish'd care: + So boundless she, and thou so partial grown, + Well may we deem the wondrous birth thy own. + Now frantic Diomed, at her command, + Against the immortals lifts his raging hand: + The heavenly Venus first his fury found, + Me next encountering, me he dared to wound; + Vanquish'd I fled; even I, the god of fight, + From mortal madness scarce was saved by flight. + Else hadst thou seen me sink on yonder plain, + Heap'd round, and heaving under loads of slain! + Or pierced with Grecian darts, for ages lie, + Condemn'd to pain, though fated not to die." + + Him thus upbraiding, with a wrathful look + The lord of thunders view'd, and stern bespoke: + "To me, perfidious! this lamenting strain? + Of lawless force shall lawless Mars complain? + Of all the gods who tread the spangled skies, + Thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes! + Inhuman discord is thy dire delight, + The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight. + No bounds, no law, thy fiery temper quells, + And all thy mother in thy soul rebels. + In vain our threats, in vain our power we use; + She gives the example, and her son pursues. + Yet long the inflicted pangs thou shall not mourn, + Sprung since thou art from Jove, and heavenly-born. + Else, singed with lightning, hadst thou hence been thrown, + Where chain'd on burning rocks the Titans groan." + + Thus he who shakes Olympus with his nod; + Then gave to Paeon's care the bleeding god.(160) + With gentle hand the balm he pour'd around, + And heal'd the immortal flesh, and closed the wound. + As when the fig's press'd juice, infused in cream, + To curds coagulates the liquid stream, + Sudden the fluids fix the parts combined; + Such, and so soon, the ethereal texture join'd. + Cleansed from the dust and gore, fair Hebe dress'd + His mighty limbs in an immortal vest. + Glorious he sat, in majesty restored, + Fast by the throne of heaven's superior lord. + Juno and Pallas mount the bless'd abodes, + Their task perform'd, and mix among the gods. + + [Illustration: JUNO.] + + JUNO. + + + + + +BOOK VI. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE EPISODES OF GLAUCUS AND DIOMED, AND OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. + +The gods having left the field, the Grecians prevail. Helenus, the chief +augur of Troy, commands Hector to return to the city, in order to appoint +a solemn procession of the queen and the Trojan matrons to the temple of +Minerva, to entreat her to remove Diomed from the fight. The battle +relaxing during the absence of Hector, Glaucus and Diomed have an +interview between the two armies; where, coming to the knowledge, of the +friendship and hospitality passed between their ancestors, they make +exchange of their arms. Hector, having performed the orders of Helenus, +prevails upon Paris to return to the battle, and, taking a tender leave of +his wife Andromache, hastens again to the field. + +The scene is first in the field of battle, between the rivers Simois and +Scamander, and then changes to Troy. + + Now heaven forsakes the fight: the immortals yield + To human force and human skill the field: + Dark showers of javelins fly from foes to foes; + Now here, now there, the tide of combat flows; + While Troy's famed streams, that bound the deathful plain + On either side, run purple to the main. + + Great Ajax first to conquest led the way, + Broke the thick ranks, and turn'd the doubtful day. + The Thracian Acamas his falchion found, + And hew'd the enormous giant to the ground; + His thundering arm a deadly stroke impress'd + Where the black horse-hair nodded o'er his crest; + Fix'd in his front the brazen weapon lies, + And seals in endless shades his swimming eyes. + Next Teuthras' son distain'd the sands with blood, + Axylus, hospitable, rich, and good: + In fair Arisbe's walls (his native place)(161) + He held his seat! a friend to human race. + Fast by the road, his ever-open door + Obliged the wealthy, and relieved the poor. + To stern Tydides now he falls a prey, + No friend to guard him in the dreadful day! + Breathless the good man fell, and by his side + His faithful servant, old Calesius died. + + By great Euryalus was Dresus slain, + And next he laid Opheltius on the plain. + Two twins were near, bold, beautiful, and young, + From a fair naiad and Bucolion sprung: + (Laomedon's white flocks Bucolion fed, + That monarch's first-born by a foreign bed; + In secret woods he won the naiad's grace, + And two fair infants crown'd his strong embrace:) + Here dead they lay in all their youthful charms; + The ruthless victor stripp'd their shining arms. + + Astyalus by Polypoetes fell; + Ulysses' spear Pidytes sent to hell; + By Teucer's shaft brave Aretaon bled, + And Nestor's son laid stern Ablerus dead; + Great Agamemnon, leader of the brave, + The mortal wound of rich Elatus gave, + Who held in Pedasus his proud abode,(162) + And till'd the banks where silver Satnio flow'd. + Melanthius by Eurypylus was slain; + And Phylacus from Leitus flies in vain. + + Unbless'd Adrastus next at mercy lies + Beneath the Spartan spear, a living prize. + Scared with the din and tumult of the fight, + His headlong steeds, precipitate in flight, + Rush'd on a tamarisk's strong trunk, and broke + The shatter'd chariot from the crooked yoke; + Wide o'er the field, resistless as the wind, + For Troy they fly, and leave their lord behind. + Prone on his face he sinks beside the wheel: + Atrides o'er him shakes his vengeful steel; + The fallen chief in suppliant posture press'd + The victor's knees, and thus his prayer address'd: + + "O spare my youth, and for the life I owe + Large gifts of price my father shall bestow. + When fame shall tell, that, not in battle slain, + Thy hollow ships his captive son detain: + Rich heaps of brass shall in thy tent be told,(163) + And steel well-temper'd, and persuasive gold." + + He said: compassion touch'd the hero's heart + He stood, suspended with the lifted dart: + As pity pleaded for his vanquish'd prize, + Stern Agamemnon swift to vengeance flies, + And, furious, thus: "Oh impotent of mind!(164) + Shall these, shall these Atrides' mercy find? + Well hast thou known proud Troy's perfidious land, + And well her natives merit at thy hand! + Not one of all the race, nor sex, nor age, + Shall save a Trojan from our boundless rage: + Ilion shall perish whole, and bury all; + Her babes, her infants at the breast, shall fall;(165) + A dreadful lesson of exampled fate, + To warn the nations, and to curb the great!" + + The monarch spoke; the words, with warmth address'd, + To rigid justice steel'd his brother's breast + Fierce from his knees the hapless chief he thrust; + The monarch's javelin stretch'd him in the dust, + Then pressing with his foot his panting heart, + Forth from the slain he tugg'd the reeking dart. + Old Nestor saw, and roused the warrior's rage; + "Thus, heroes! thus the vigorous combat wage; + No son of Mars descend, for servile gains, + To touch the booty, while a foe remains. + Behold yon glittering host, your future spoil! + First gain the conquest, then reward the toil." + + And now had Greece eternal fame acquired, + And frighted Troy within her walls, retired, + Had not sage Helenus her state redress'd, + Taught by the gods that moved his sacred breast. + Where Hector stood, with great AEneas join'd, + The seer reveal'd the counsels of his mind: + + "Ye generous chiefs! on whom the immortals lay + The cares and glories of this doubtful day; + On whom your aids, your country's hopes depend; + Wise to consult, and active to defend! + Here, at our gates, your brave efforts unite, + Turn back the routed, and forbid the flight, + Ere yet their wives' soft arms the cowards gain, + The sport and insult of the hostile train. + When your commands have hearten'd every band, + Ourselves, here fix'd, will make the dangerous stand; + Press'd as we are, and sore of former fight, + These straits demand our last remains of might. + Meanwhile thou, Hector, to the town retire, + And teach our mother what the gods require: + Direct the queen to lead the assembled train + Of Troy's chief matrons to Minerva's fane;(166) + Unbar the sacred gates, and seek the power, + With offer'd vows, in Ilion's topmost tower. + The largest mantle her rich wardrobes hold, + Most prized for art, and labour'd o'er with gold, + Before the goddess' honour'd knees be spread, + And twelve young heifers to her altars led: + If so the power, atoned by fervent prayer, + Our wives, our infants, and our city spare, + And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire, + That mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire; + Not thus Achilles taught our hosts to dread, + Sprung though he was from more than mortal bed; + Not thus resistless ruled the stream of fight, + In rage unbounded, and unmatch'd in might." + + Hector obedient heard: and, with a bound, + Leap'd from his trembling chariot to the ground; + Through all his host inspiring force he flies, + And bids the thunder of the battle rise. + With rage recruited the bold Trojans glow, + And turn the tide of conflict on the foe: + Fierce in the front he shakes two dazzling spears; + All Greece recedes, and 'midst her triumphs fears; + Some god, they thought, who ruled the fate of wars, + Shot down avenging from the vault of stars. + + Then thus aloud: "Ye dauntless Dardans, hear! + And you whom distant nations send to war! + Be mindful of the strength your fathers bore; + Be still yourselves, and Hector asks no more. + One hour demands me in the Trojan wall, + To bid our altars flame, and victims fall: + Nor shall, I trust, the matrons' holy train, + And reverend elders, seek the gods in vain." + + This said, with ample strides the hero pass'd; + The shield's large orb behind his shoulder cast, + His neck o'ershading, to his ankle hung; + And as he march'd the brazen buckler rung. + + Now paused the battle (godlike Hector gone),(167) + Where daring Glaucus and great Tydeus' son + Between both armies met: the chiefs from far + Observed each other, and had mark'd for war. + Near as they drew, Tydides thus began: + + "What art thou, boldest of the race of man? + Our eyes till now that aspect ne'er beheld, + Where fame is reap'd amid the embattled field; + Yet far before the troops thou dar'st appear, + And meet a lance the fiercest heroes fear. + Unhappy they, and born of luckless sires, + Who tempt our fury when Minerva fires! + But if from heaven, celestial, thou descend, + Know with immortals we no more contend. + Not long Lycurgus view'd the golden light, + That daring man who mix'd with gods in fight. + Bacchus, and Bacchus' votaries, he drove, + With brandish'd steel, from Nyssa's sacred grove: + Their consecrated spears lay scatter'd round, + With curling vines and twisted ivy bound; + While Bacchus headlong sought the briny flood, + And Thetis' arms received the trembling god. + Nor fail'd the crime the immortals' wrath to move; + (The immortals bless'd with endless ease above;) + Deprived of sight by their avenging doom, + Cheerless he breathed, and wander'd in the gloom, + Then sunk unpitied to the dire abodes, + A wretch accursed, and hated by the gods! + I brave not heaven: but if the fruits of earth + Sustain thy life, and human be thy birth, + Bold as thou art, too prodigal of breath, + Approach, and enter the dark gates of death." + + "What, or from whence I am, or who my sire, + (Replied the chief,) can Tydeus' son inquire? + Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, + Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; + Another race the following spring supplies; + They fall successive, and successive rise: + So generations in their course decay; + So flourish these, when those are pass'd away. + But if thou still persist to search my birth, + Then hear a tale that fills the spacious earth. + + "A city stands on Argos' utmost bound, + (Argos the fair, for warlike steeds renown'd,) + Aeolian Sisyphus, with wisdom bless'd, + In ancient time the happy wall possess'd, + Then call'd Ephyre: Glaucus was his son; + Great Glaucus, father of Bellerophon, + Who o'er the sons of men in beauty shined, + Loved for that valour which preserves mankind. + Then mighty Praetus Argos' sceptre sway'd, + Whose hard commands Bellerophon obey'd. + With direful jealousy the monarch raged, + And the brave prince in numerous toils engaged. + For him Antaea burn'd with lawless flame, + And strove to tempt him from the paths of fame: + In vain she tempted the relentless youth, + Endued with wisdom, sacred fear, and truth. + Fired at his scorn the queen to Praetus fled, + And begg'd revenge for her insulted bed: + Incensed he heard, resolving on his fate; + But hospitable laws restrain'd his hate: + To Lycia the devoted youth he sent, + With tablets seal'd, that told his dire intent.(168) + Now bless'd by every power who guards the good, + The chief arrived at Xanthus' silver flood: + There Lycia's monarch paid him honours due, + Nine days he feasted, and nine bulls he slew. + But when the tenth bright morning orient glow'd, + The faithful youth his monarch's mandate show'd: + The fatal tablets, till that instant seal'd, + The deathful secret to the king reveal'd. + First, dire Chimaera's conquest was enjoin'd; + A mingled monster of no mortal kind! + Behind, a dragon's fiery tail was spread; + A goat's rough body bore a lion's head; + Her pitchy nostrils flaky flames expire; + Her gaping throat emits infernal fire. + + "This pest he slaughter'd, (for he read the skies, + And trusted heaven's informing prodigies,) + Then met in arms the Solymaean crew,(169) + (Fiercest of men,) and those the warrior slew; + Next the bold Amazons' whole force defied; + And conquer'd still, for heaven was on his side. + + "Nor ended here his toils: his Lycian foes, + At his return, a treacherous ambush rose, + With levell'd spears along the winding shore: + There fell they breathless, and return'd no more. + + "At length the monarch, with repentant grief, + Confess'd the gods, and god-descended chief; + His daughter gave, the stranger to detain, + With half the honours of his ample reign: + The Lycians grant a chosen space of ground, + With woods, with vineyards, and with harvests crown'd. + There long the chief his happy lot possess'd, + With two brave sons and one fair daughter bless'd; + (Fair e'en in heavenly eyes: her fruitful love + Crown'd with Sarpedon's birth the embrace of Jove;) + But when at last, distracted in his mind, + Forsook by heaven, forsaking humankind, + Wide o'er the Aleian field he chose to stray, + A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way!(170) + Woes heap'd on woes consumed his wasted heart: + His beauteous daughter fell by Phoebe's dart; + His eldest born by raging Mars was slain, + In combat on the Solymaean plain. + Hippolochus survived: from him I came, + The honour'd author of my birth and name; + By his decree I sought the Trojan town; + By his instructions learn to win renown, + To stand the first in worth as in command, + To add new honours to my native land, + Before my eyes my mighty sires to place, + And emulate the glories of our race." + + He spoke, and transport fill'd Tydides' heart; + In earth the generous warrior fix'd his dart, + Then friendly, thus the Lycian prince address'd: + "Welcome, my brave hereditary guest! + Thus ever let us meet, with kind embrace, + Nor stain the sacred friendship of our race. + Know, chief, our grandsires have been guests of old; + OEneus the strong, Bellerophon the bold: + Our ancient seat his honour'd presence graced, + Where twenty days in genial rites he pass'd. + The parting heroes mutual presents left; + A golden goblet was thy grandsire's gift; + OEneus a belt of matchless work bestowed, + That rich with Tyrian dye refulgent glow'd. + (This from his pledge I learn'd, which, safely stored + Among my treasures, still adorns my board: + For Tydeus left me young, when Thebe's wall + Beheld the sons of Greece untimely fall.) + Mindful of this, in friendship let us join; + If heaven our steps to foreign lands incline, + My guest in Argos thou, and I in Lycia thine. + Enough of Trojans to this lance shall yield, + In the full harvest of yon ample field; + Enough of Greeks shall dye thy spear with gore; + But thou and Diomed be foes no more. + Now change we arms, and prove to either host + We guard the friendship of the line we boast." + + Thus having said, the gallant chiefs alight, + Their hands they join, their mutual faith they plight; + Brave Glaucus then each narrow thought resign'd, + (Jove warm'd his bosom, and enlarged his mind,) + For Diomed's brass arms, of mean device, + For which nine oxen paid, (a vulgar price,) + He gave his own, of gold divinely wrought,(171) + A hundred beeves the shining purchase bought. + + Meantime the guardian of the Trojan state, + Great Hector, enter'd at the Scaean gate.(172) + Beneath the beech-tree's consecrated shades, + The Trojan matrons and the Trojan maids + Around him flock'd, all press'd with pious care + For husbands, brothers, sons, engaged in war. + He bids the train in long procession go, + And seek the gods, to avert the impending woe. + And now to Priam's stately courts he came, + Rais'd on arch'd columns of stupendous frame; + O'er these a range of marble structure runs, + The rich pavilions of his fifty sons, + In fifty chambers lodged: and rooms of state,(173) + Opposed to those, where Priam's daughters sate. + Twelve domes for them and their loved spouses shone, + Of equal beauty, and of polish'd stone. + Hither great Hector pass'd, nor pass'd unseen + Of royal Hecuba, his mother-queen. + (With her Laodice, whose beauteous face + Surpass'd the nymphs of Troy's illustrious race.) + Long in a strict embrace she held her son, + And press'd his hand, and tender thus begun: + + "O Hector! say, what great occasion calls + My son from fight, when Greece surrounds our walls; + Com'st thou to supplicate the almighty power + With lifted hands, from Ilion's lofty tower? + Stay, till I bring the cup with Bacchus crown'd, + In Jove's high name, to sprinkle on the ground, + And pay due vows to all the gods around. + Then with a plenteous draught refresh thy soul, + And draw new spirits from the generous bowl; + Spent as thou art with long laborious fight, + The brave defender of thy country's right." + + "Far hence be Bacchus' gifts; (the chief rejoin'd;) + Inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind, + Unnerves the limbs, and dulls the noble mind. + Let chiefs abstain, and spare the sacred juice + To sprinkle to the gods, its better use. + By me that holy office were profaned; + Ill fits it me, with human gore distain'd, + To the pure skies these horrid hands to raise, + Or offer heaven's great Sire polluted praise. + You, with your matrons, go! a spotless train, + And burn rich odours in Minerva's fane. + The largest mantle your full wardrobes hold, + Most prized for art, and labour'd o'er with gold, + Before the goddess' honour'd knees be spread, + And twelve young heifers to her altar led. + So may the power, atoned by fervent prayer, + Our wives, our infants, and our city spare; + And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire, + Who mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire. + Be this, O mother, your religious care: + I go to rouse soft Paris to the war; + If yet not lost to all the sense of shame, + The recreant warrior hear the voice of fame. + Oh, would kind earth the hateful wretch embrace, + That pest of Troy, that ruin of our race!(174) + Deep to the dark abyss might he descend, + Troy yet should flourish, and my sorrows end." + + This heard, she gave command: and summon'd came + Each noble matron and illustrious dame. + The Phrygian queen to her rich wardrobe went, + Where treasured odours breathed a costly scent. + There lay the vestures of no vulgar art, + Sidonian maids embroider'd every part, + Whom from soft Sidon youthful Paris bore, + With Helen touching on the Tyrian shore. + Here, as the queen revolved with careful eyes + The various textures and the various dyes, + She chose a veil that shone superior far, + And glow'd refulgent as the morning star. + Herself with this the long procession leads; + The train majestically slow proceeds. + Soon as to Ilion's topmost tower they come, + And awful reach the high Palladian dome, + Antenor's consort, fair Theano, waits + As Pallas' priestess, and unbars the gates. + With hands uplifted and imploring eyes, + They fill the dome with supplicating cries. + The priestess then the shining veil displays, + Placed on Minerva's knees, and thus she prays: + + "Oh awful goddess! ever-dreadful maid, + Troy's strong defence, unconquer'd Pallas, aid! + Break thou Tydides' spear, and let him fall + Prone on the dust before the Trojan wall! + So twelve young heifers, guiltless of the yoke, + Shall fill thy temple with a grateful smoke. + But thou, atoned by penitence and prayer, + Ourselves, our infants, and our city spare!" + So pray'd the priestess in her holy fane; + So vow'd the matrons, but they vow'd in vain. + + While these appear before the power with prayers, + Hector to Paris' lofty dome repairs.(175) + Himself the mansion raised, from every part + Assembling architects of matchless art. + Near Priam's court and Hector's palace stands + The pompous structure, and the town commands. + A spear the hero bore of wondrous strength, + Of full ten cubits was the lance's length, + The steely point with golden ringlets join'd, + Before him brandish'd, at each motion shined + Thus entering, in the glittering rooms he found + His brother-chief, whose useless arms lay round, + His eyes delighting with their splendid show, + Brightening the shield, and polishing the bow. + Beside him Helen with her virgins stands, + Guides their rich labours, and instructs their hands. + + Him thus inactive, with an ardent look + The prince beheld, and high-resenting spoke. + "Thy hate to Troy, is this the time to show? + (O wretch ill-fated, and thy country's foe!) + Paris and Greece against us both conspire, + Thy close resentment, and their vengeful ire. + For thee great Ilion's guardian heroes fall, + Till heaps of dead alone defend her wall, + For thee the soldier bleeds, the matron mourns, + And wasteful war in all its fury burns. + Ungrateful man! deserves not this thy care, + Our troops to hearten, and our toils to share? + Rise, or behold the conquering flames ascend, + And all the Phrygian glories at an end." + + "Brother, 'tis just, (replied the beauteous youth,) + Thy free remonstrance proves thy worth and truth: + Yet charge my absence less, O generous chief! + On hate to Troy, than conscious shame and grief: + Here, hid from human eyes, thy brother sate, + And mourn'd, in secret, his and Ilion's fate. + 'Tis now enough; now glory spreads her charms, + And beauteous Helen calls her chief to arms. + Conquest to-day my happier sword may bless, + 'Tis man's to fight, but heaven's to give success. + But while I arm, contain thy ardent mind; + Or go, and Paris shall not lag behind." + + [Illustration: HECTOR CHIDING PARIS.] + + HECTOR CHIDING PARIS. + + + He said, nor answer'd Priam's warlike son; + When Helen thus with lowly grace begun: + + "Oh, generous brother! (if the guilty dame + That caused these woes deserve a sister's name!) + Would heaven, ere all these dreadful deeds were done, + The day that show'd me to the golden sun + Had seen my death! why did not whirlwinds bear + The fatal infant to the fowls of air? + Why sunk I not beneath the whelming tide, + And midst the roarings of the waters died? + Heaven fill'd up all my ills, and I accursed + Bore all, and Paris of those ills the worst. + Helen at least a braver spouse might claim, + Warm'd with some virtue, some regard of fame! + Now tired with toils, thy fainting limbs recline, + With toils, sustain'd for Paris' sake and mine + The gods have link'd our miserable doom, + Our present woe, and infamy to come: + Wide shall it spread, and last through ages long, + Example sad! and theme of future song." + + The chief replied: "This time forbids to rest; + The Trojan bands, by hostile fury press'd, + Demand their Hector, and his arm require; + The combat urges, and my soul's on fire. + Urge thou thy knight to march where glory calls, + And timely join me, ere I leave the walls. + Ere yet I mingle in the direful fray, + My wife, my infant, claim a moment's stay; + This day (perhaps the last that sees me here) + Demands a parting word, a tender tear: + This day, some god who hates our Trojan land + May vanquish Hector by a Grecian hand." + + He said, and pass'd with sad presaging heart + To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part; + At home he sought her, but he sought in vain; + She, with one maid of all her menial train, + Had hence retired; and with her second joy, + The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy, + Pensive she stood on Ilion's towery height, + Beheld the war, and sicken'd at the sight; + There her sad eyes in vain her lord explore, + Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore. + + But he who found not whom his soul desired, + Whose virtue charm'd him as her beauty fired, + Stood in the gates, and ask'd "what way she bent + Her parting step? If to the fane she went, + Where late the mourning matrons made resort; + Or sought her sisters in the Trojan court?" + "Not to the court, (replied the attendant train,) + Nor mix'd with matrons to Minerva's fane: + To Ilion's steepy tower she bent her way, + To mark the fortunes of the doubtful day. + Troy fled, she heard, before the Grecian sword; + She heard, and trembled for her absent lord: + Distracted with surprise, she seem'd to fly, + Fear on her cheek, and sorrow m her eye. + The nurse attended with her infant boy, + The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy." + + Hector this heard, return'd without delay; + Swift through the town he trod his former way, + Through streets of palaces, and walks of state; + And met the mourner at the Scaean gate. + With haste to meet him sprung the joyful fair. + His blameless wife, Aetion's wealthy heir: + (Cilician Thebe great Aetion sway'd, + And Hippoplacus' wide extended shade:) + The nurse stood near, in whose embraces press'd, + His only hope hung smiling at her breast, + Whom each soft charm and early grace adorn, + Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn. + To this loved infant Hector gave the name + Scamandrius, from Scamander's honour'd stream; + Astyanax the Trojans call'd the boy, + From his great father, the defence of Troy. + Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased resign'd + To tender passions all his mighty mind; + His beauteous princess cast a mournful look, + Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke; + Her bosom laboured with a boding sigh, + And the big tear stood trembling in her eye. + + [Illustration: THE MEETING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.] + + THE MEETING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. + + + "Too daring prince! ah, whither dost thou run? + Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son! + And think'st thou not how wretched we shall be, + A widow I, a helpless orphan he? + For sure such courage length of life denies, + And thou must fall, thy virtue's sacrifice. + Greece in her single heroes strove in vain; + Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be slain. + O grant me, gods, ere Hector meets his doom, + All I can ask of heaven, an early tomb! + So shall my days in one sad tenor run, + And end with sorrows as they first begun. + No parent now remains my griefs to share, + No father's aid, no mother's tender care. + The fierce Achilles wrapt our walls in fire, + Laid Thebe waste, and slew my warlike sire! + His fate compassion in the victor bred; + Stern as he was, he yet revered the dead, + His radiant arms preserved from hostile spoil, + And laid him decent on the funeral pile; + Then raised a mountain where his bones were burn'd, + The mountain-nymphs the rural tomb adorn'd, + Jove's sylvan daughters bade their elms bestow + A barren shade, and in his honour grow. + + "By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell; + In one sad day beheld the gates of hell; + While the fat herds and snowy flocks they fed, + Amid their fields the hapless heroes bled! + My mother lived to wear the victor's bands, + The queen of Hippoplacia's sylvan lands: + Redeem'd too late, she scarce beheld again + Her pleasing empire and her native plain, + When ah! oppress'd by life-consuming woe, + She fell a victim to Diana's bow. + + "Yet while my Hector still survives, I see + My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee: + Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all + Once more will perish, if my Hector fall, + Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share: + Oh, prove a husband's and a father's care! + That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, + Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall of Troy; + Thou, from this tower defend the important post; + There Agamemnon points his dreadful host, + That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain, + And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train. + Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given, + Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven. + Let others in the field their arms employ, + But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy." + + The chief replied: "That post shall be my care, + Not that alone, but all the works of war. + How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown'd, + And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground + Attaint the lustre of my former name, + Should Hector basely quit the field of fame? + My early youth was bred to martial pains, + My soul impels me to the embattled plains! + Let me be foremost to defend the throne, + And guard my father's glories, and my own. + + "Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates! + (How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!) + The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend, + And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end. + And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind, + My mother's death, the ruin of my kind, + Not Priam's hoary hairs defiled with gore, + Not all my brothers gasping on the shore; + As thine, Andromache! Thy griefs I dread: + I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led! + In Argive looms our battles to design, + And woes, of which so large a part was thine! + To bear the victor's hard commands, or bring + The weight of waters from Hyperia's spring. + There while you groan beneath the load of life, + They cry, 'Behold the mighty Hector's wife!' + Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see, + Imbitters all thy woes, by naming me. + The thoughts of glory past, and present shame, + A thousand griefs shall waken at the name! + May I lie cold before that dreadful day, + Press'd with a load of monumental clay! + Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep, + Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep." + + Thus having spoke, the illustrious chief of Troy + Stretch'd his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy. + The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast, + Scared at the dazzling helm, and nodding crest. + With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled, + And Hector hasted to relieve his child, + The glittering terrors from his brows unbound, + And placed the beaming helmet on the ground; + Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in air, + Thus to the gods preferr'd a father's prayer: + + "O thou! whose glory fills the ethereal throne, + And all ye deathless powers! protect my son! + Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown, + To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown, + Against his country's foes the war to wage, + And rise the Hector of the future age! + So when triumphant from successful toils + Of heroes slain he bears the reeking spoils, + Whole hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim, + And say, 'This chief transcends his father's fame:' + While pleased amidst the general shouts of Troy, + His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy." + + He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms, + Restored the pleasing burden to her arms; + Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid, + Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey'd. + The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear, + She mingled with a smile a tender tear. + The soften'd chief with kind compassion view'd, + And dried the falling drops, and thus pursued: + + "Andromache! my soul's far better part, + Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart? + No hostile hand can antedate my doom, + Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb. + Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth; + And such the hard condition of our birth: + No force can then resist, no flight can save, + All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. + No more--but hasten to thy tasks at home, + There guide the spindle, and direct the loom: + Me glory summons to the martial scene, + The field of combat is the sphere for men. + Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, + The first in danger as the first in fame." + + Thus having said, the glorious chief resumes + His towery helmet, black with shading plumes. + His princess parts with a prophetic sigh, + Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye + That stream'd at every look; then, moving slow, + Sought her own palace, and indulged her woe. + There, while her tears deplored the godlike man, + Through all her train the soft infection ran; + The pious maids their mingled sorrows shed, + And mourn the living Hector, as the dead. + + But now, no longer deaf to honour's call, + Forth issues Paris from the palace wall. + In brazen arms that cast a gleamy ray, + Swift through the town the warrior bends his way. + The wanton courser thus with reins unbound(176) + Breaks from his stall, and beats the trembling ground; + Pamper'd and proud, he seeks the wonted tides, + And laves, in height of blood his shining sides; + His head now freed, he tosses to the skies; + His mane dishevell'd o'er his shoulders flies; + He snuffs the females in the distant plain, + And springs, exulting, to his fields again. + With equal triumph, sprightly, bold, and gay, + In arms refulgent as the god of day, + The son of Priam, glorying in his might, + Rush'd forth with Hector to the fields of fight. + + And now, the warriors passing on the way, + The graceful Paris first excused his stay. + To whom the noble Hector thus replied: + "O chief! in blood, and now in arms, allied! + Thy power in war with justice none contest; + Known is thy courage, and thy strength confess'd. + What pity sloth should seize a soul so brave, + Or godlike Paris live a woman's slave! + My heart weeps blood at what the Trojans say, + And hopes thy deeds shall wipe the stain away. + Haste then, in all their glorious labours share, + For much they suffer, for thy sake, in war. + These ills shall cease, whene'er by Jove's decree + We crown the bowl to heaven and liberty: + While the proud foe his frustrate triumphs mourns, + And Greece indignant through her seas returns." + + [Illustration: BOWS AND BOW CASE.] + + BOWS AND BOW CASE. + + + [Illustration: IRIS.] + + IRIS. + + + + + +BOOK VII. + + +ARGUMENT + +THE SINGLE COMBAT OF HECTOR AND AJAX. + +The battle renewing with double ardour upon the return of Hector, Minerva +is under apprehensions for the Greeks. Apollo, seeing her descend from +Olympus, joins her near the Scaean gate. They agree to put off the general +engagement for that day, and incite Hector to challenge the Greeks to a +single combat. Nine of the princes accepting the challenge, the lot is +cast and falls upon Ajax. These heroes, after several attacks, are parted +by the night. The Trojans calling a council, Antenor purposes the delivery +of Helen to the Greeks, to which Paris will not consent, but offers to +restore them her riches. Priam sends a herald to make this offer, and to +demand a truce for burning the dead, the last of which only is agreed to +by Agamemnon. When the funerals are performed, the Greeks, pursuant to the +advice of Nestor, erect a fortification to protect their fleet and camp, +flanked with towers, and defended by a ditch and palisades. Neptune +testifies his jealousy at this work, but is pacified by a promise from +Jupiter. Both armies pass the night in feasting but Jupiter disheartens +the Trojans with thunder, and other signs of his wrath. + +The three and twentieth day ends with the duel of Hector and Ajax, the +next day the truce is agreed; another is taken up in the funeral rites of +the slain and one more in building the fortification before the ships. So +that somewhat about three days is employed in this book. The scene lies +wholly in the field. + + So spoke the guardian of the Trojan state, + Then rush'd impetuous through the Scaean gate. + Him Paris follow'd to the dire alarms; + Both breathing slaughter, both resolved in arms. + As when to sailors labouring through the main, + That long have heaved the weary oar in vain, + Jove bids at length the expected gales arise; + The gales blow grateful, and the vessel flies. + So welcome these to Troy's desiring train, + The bands are cheer'd, the war awakes again. + + Bold Paris first the work of death begun + On great Menestheus, Areithous' son, + Sprung from the fair Philomeda's embrace, + The pleasing Arne was his native place. + Then sunk Eioneus to the shades below, + Beneath his steely casque he felt the blow(177) + Full on his neck, from Hector's weighty hand; + And roll'd, with limbs relax'd, along the land. + By Glaucus' spear the bold Iphmous bleeds, + Fix'd in the shoulder as he mounts his steeds; + Headlong he tumbles: his slack nerves unbound, + Drop the cold useless members on the ground. + + When now Minerva saw her Argives slain, + From vast Olympus to the gleaming plain + Fierce she descends: Apollo marked her flight, + Nor shot less swift from Ilion's towery height. + Radiant they met, beneath the beechen shade; + When thus Apollo to the blue-eyed maid: + + "What cause, O daughter of Almighty Jove! + Thus wings thy progress from the realms above? + Once more impetuous dost thou bend thy way, + To give to Greece the long divided day? + Too much has Troy already felt thy hate, + Now breathe thy rage, and hush the stern debate; + This day, the business of the field suspend; + War soon shall kindle, and great Ilion bend; + Since vengeful goddesses confederate join + To raze her walls, though built by hands divine." + + To whom the progeny of Jove replies: + "I left, for this, the council of the skies: + But who shall bid conflicting hosts forbear, + What art shall calm the furious sons of war?" + To her the god: "Great Hector's soul incite + To dare the boldest Greek to single fight, + Till Greece, provoked, from all her numbers show + A warrior worthy to be Hector's foe." + + At this agreed, the heavenly powers withdrew; + Sage Helenus their secret counsels knew; + Hector, inspired, he sought: to him address'd, + Thus told the dictates of his sacred breast: + "O son of Priam! let thy faithful ear + Receive my words: thy friend and brother hear! + Go forth persuasive, and a while engage + The warring nations to suspend their rage; + Then dare the boldest of the hostile train + To mortal combat on the listed plain. + For not this day shall end thy glorious date; + The gods have spoke it, and their voice is fate." + + He said: the warrior heard the word with joy; + Then with his spear restrain'd the youth of Troy, + Held by the midst athwart. On either hand + The squadrons part; the expecting Trojans stand; + Great Agamemnon bids the Greeks forbear: + They breathe, and hush the tumult of the war. + The Athenian maid, and glorious god of day,(178) + With silent joy the settling hosts survey: + In form of vultures, on the beech's height + They sit conceal'd, and wait the future fight. + + The thronging troops obscure the dusky fields, + Horrid with bristling spears, and gleaming shields. + As when a general darkness veils the main, + (Soft Zephyr curling the wide wat'ry plain,) + The waves scarce heave, the face of ocean sleeps, + And a still horror saddens all the deeps; + Thus in thick orders settling wide around, + At length composed they sit, and shade the ground. + Great Hector first amidst both armies broke + The solemn silence, and their powers bespoke: + + "Hear, all ye Trojan, all ye Grecian bands, + What my soul prompts, and what some god commands. + Great Jove, averse our warfare to compose, + O'erwhelms the nations with new toils and woes; + War with a fiercer tide once more returns, + Till Ilion falls, or till yon navy burns. + You then, O princes of the Greeks! appear; + 'Tis Hector speaks, and calls the gods to hear: + From all your troops select the boldest knight, + And him, the boldest, Hector dares to fight. + Here if I fall, by chance of battle slain, + Be his my spoil, and his these arms remain; + But let my body, to my friends return'd, + By Trojan hands and Trojan flames be burn'd. + And if Apollo, in whose aid I trust, + Shall stretch your daring champion in the dust; + If mine the glory to despoil the foe; + On Phoebus' temple I'll his arms bestow: + The breathless carcase to your navy sent, + Greece on the shore shall raise a monument; + Which when some future mariner surveys, + Wash'd by broad Hellespont's resounding seas, + Thus shall he say, 'A valiant Greek lies there, + By Hector slain, the mighty man of war,' + The stone shall tell your vanquish'd hero's name. + And distant ages learn the victor's fame." + + This fierce defiance Greece astonish'd heard, + Blush'd to refuse, and to accept it fear'd. + Stern Menelaus first the silence broke, + And, inly groaning, thus opprobrious spoke: + + "Women of Greece! O scandal of your race, + Whose coward souls your manly form disgrace, + How great the shame, when every age shall know + That not a Grecian met this noble foe! + Go then! resolve to earth, from whence ye grew, + A heartless, spiritless, inglorious crew! + Be what ye seem, unanimated clay, + Myself will dare the danger of the day; + 'Tis man's bold task the generous strife to try, + But in the hands of God is victory." + + These words scarce spoke, with generous ardour press'd, + His manly limbs in azure arms he dress'd. + That day, Atrides! a superior hand + Had stretch'd thee breathless on the hostile strand; + But all at once, thy fury to compose, + The kings of Greece, an awful band, arose; + Even he their chief, great Agamemnon, press'd + Thy daring hand, and this advice address'd: + "Whither, O Menelaus! wouldst thou run, + And tempt a fate which prudence bids thee shun? + Grieved though thou art, forbear the rash design; + Great Hectors arm is mightier far than thine: + Even fierce Achilles learn'd its force to fear, + And trembling met this dreadful son of war. + Sit thou secure, amidst thy social band; + Greece in our cause shall arm some powerful hand. + The mightiest warrior of the Achaian name, + Though bold and burning with desire of fame, + Content the doubtful honour might forego, + So great the danger, and so brave the foe." + + He said, and turn'd his brother's vengeful mind; + He stoop'd to reason, and his rage resign'd, + No longer bent to rush on certain harms; + His joyful friends unbrace his azure arms. + + He from whose lips divine persuasion flows, + Grave Nestor, then, in graceful act arose; + Thus to the kings he spoke: "What grief, what shame + Attend on Greece, and all the Grecian name! + How shall, alas! her hoary heroes mourn + Their sons degenerate, and their race a scorn! + What tears shall down thy silvery beard be roll'd, + O Peleus, old in arms, in wisdom old! + Once with what joy the generous prince would hear + Of every chief who fought this glorious war, + Participate their fame, and pleased inquire + Each name, each action, and each hero's sire! + Gods! should he see our warriors trembling stand, + And trembling all before one hostile hand; + How would he lift his aged arms on high, + Lament inglorious Greece, and beg to die! + Oh! would to all the immortal powers above, + Minerva, Phoebus, and almighty Jove! + Years might again roll back, my youth renew, + And give this arm the spring which once it knew + When fierce in war, where Jardan's waters fall, + I led my troops to Phea's trembling wall, + And with the Arcadian spears my prowess tried, + Where Celadon rolls down his rapid tide.(179) + There Ereuthalion braved us in the field, + Proud Areithous' dreadful arms to wield; + Great Areithous, known from shore to shore + By the huge, knotted, iron mace he bore; + No lance he shook, nor bent the twanging bow, + But broke, with this, the battle of the foe. + Him not by manly force Lycurgus slew, + Whose guileful javelin from the thicket flew, + Deep in a winding way his breast assailed, + Nor aught the warrior's thundering mace avail'd. + Supine he fell: those arms which Mars before + Had given the vanquish'd, now the victor bore: + But when old age had dimm'd Lycurgus' eyes, + To Ereuthalion he consign'd the prize. + Furious with this he crush'd our levell'd bands, + And dared the trial of the strongest hands; + Nor could the strongest hands his fury stay: + All saw, and fear'd, his huge tempestuous sway + Till I, the youngest of the host, appear'd, + And, youngest, met whom all our army fear'd. + I fought the chief: my arms Minerva crown'd: + Prone fell the giant o'er a length of ground. + What then I was, O were your Nestor now! + Not Hector's self should want an equal foe. + But, warriors, you that youthful vigour boast, + The flower of Greece, the examples of our host, + Sprung from such fathers, who such numbers sway, + Can you stand trembling, and desert the day?" + + His warm reproofs the listening kings inflame; + And nine, the noblest of the Grecian name, + Up-started fierce: but far before the rest + The king of men advanced his dauntless breast: + Then bold Tydides, great in arms, appear'd; + And next his bulk gigantic Ajax rear'd; + Oileus follow'd; Idomen was there,(180) + And Merion, dreadful as the god of war: + With these Eurypylus and Thoas stand, + And wise Ulysses closed the daring band. + All these, alike inspired with noble rage, + Demand the fight. To whom the Pylian sage: + + "Lest thirst of glory your brave souls divide, + What chief shall combat, let the gods decide. + Whom heaven shall choose, be his the chance to raise + His country's fame, his own immortal praise." + + The lots produced, each hero signs his own: + Then in the general's helm the fates are thrown,(181) + The people pray, with lifted eyes and hands, + And vows like these ascend from all the bands: + "Grant, thou Almighty! in whose hand is fate, + A worthy champion for the Grecian state: + This task let Ajax or Tydides prove, + Or he, the king of kings, beloved by Jove." + Old Nestor shook the casque. By heaven inspired, + Leap'd forth the lot, of every Greek desired. + This from the right to left the herald bears, + Held out in order to the Grecian peers; + Each to his rival yields the mark unknown, + Till godlike Ajax finds the lot his own; + Surveys the inscription with rejoicing eyes, + Then casts before him, and with transport cries: + + "Warriors! I claim the lot, and arm with joy; + Be mine the conquest of this chief of Troy. + Now while my brightest arms my limbs invest, + To Saturn's son be all your vows address'd: + But pray in secret, lest the foes should hear, + And deem your prayers the mean effect of fear. + Said I in secret? No, your vows declare + In such a voice as fills the earth and air, + Lives there a chief whom Ajax ought to dread? + Ajax, in all the toils of battle bred! + From warlike Salamis I drew my birth, + And, born to combats, fear no force on earth." + + He said. The troops with elevated eyes, + Implore the god whose thunder rends the skies: + "O father of mankind, superior lord! + On lofty Ida's holy hill adored: + Who in the highest heaven hast fix'd thy throne, + Supreme of gods! unbounded and alone: + Grant thou, that Telamon may bear away + The praise and conquest of this doubtful day; + Or, if illustrious Hector be thy care, + That both may claim it, and that both may share." + + Now Ajax braced his dazzling armour on; + Sheathed in bright steel the giant-warrior shone: + He moves to combat with majestic pace; + So stalks in arms the grisly god of Thrace,(182) + When Jove to punish faithless men prepares, + And gives whole nations to the waste of wars, + Thus march'd the chief, tremendous as a god; + Grimly he smiled; earth trembled as he strode:(183) + His massy javelin quivering in his hand, + He stood, the bulwark of the Grecian band. + Through every Argive heart new transport ran; + All Troy stood trembling at the mighty man: + Even Hector paused; and with new doubt oppress'd, + Felt his great heart suspended in his breast: + 'Twas vain to seek retreat, and vain to fear; + Himself had challenged, and the foe drew near. + + Stern Telamon behind his ample shield, + As from a brazen tower, o'erlook'd the field. + Huge was its orb, with seven thick folds o'ercast, + Of tough bull-hides; of solid brass the last, + (The work of Tychius, who in Hyle dwell'd + And in all arts of armoury excell'd,) + This Ajax bore before his manly breast, + And, threatening, thus his adverse chief address'd: + + "Hector! approach my arm, and singly know + What strength thou hast, and what the Grecian foe. + Achilles shuns the fight; yet some there are, + Not void of soul, and not unskill'd in war: + Let him, unactive on the sea-beat shore, + Indulge his wrath, and aid our arms no more; + Whole troops of heroes Greece has yet to boast, + And sends thee one, a sample of her host, + Such as I am, I come to prove thy might; + No more--be sudden, and begin the fight." + + "O son of Telamon, thy country's pride! + (To Ajax thus the Trojan prince replied) + Me, as a boy, or woman, wouldst thou fright, + New to the field, and trembling at the fight? + Thou meet'st a chief deserving of thy arms, + To combat born, and bred amidst alarms: + I know to shift my ground, remount the car, + Turn, charge, and answer every call of war; + To right, to left, the dexterous lance I wield, + And bear thick battle on my sounding shield + But open be our fight, and bold each blow; + I steal no conquest from a noble foe." + + He said, and rising, high above the field + Whirl'd the long lance against the sevenfold shield. + Full on the brass descending from above + Through six bull-hides the furious weapon drove, + Till in the seventh it fix'd. Then Ajax threw; + Through Hector's shield the forceful javelin flew, + His corslet enters, and his garment rends, + And glancing downwards, near his flank descends. + The wary Trojan shrinks, and bending low + Beneath his buckler, disappoints the blow. + From their bored shields the chiefs their javelins drew, + Then close impetuous, and the charge renew; + Fierce as the mountain-lions bathed in blood, + Or foaming boars, the terror of the wood. + At Ajax, Hector his long lance extends; + The blunted point against the buckler bends; + But Ajax, watchful as his foe drew near, + Drove through the Trojan targe the knotty spear; + It reach'd his neck, with matchless strength impell'd! + Spouts the black gore, and dims his shining shield. + Yet ceased not Hector thus; but stooping down, + In his strong hand up-heaved a flinty stone, + Black, craggy, vast: to this his force he bends; + Full on the brazen boss the stone descends; + The hollow brass resounded with the shock: + Then Ajax seized the fragment of a rock, + Applied each nerve, and swinging round on high, + With force tempestuous, let the ruin fly; + The huge stone thundering through his buckler broke: + His slacken'd knees received the numbing stroke; + Great Hector falls extended on the field, + His bulk supporting on the shatter'd shield: + Nor wanted heavenly aid: Apollo's might + Confirm'd his sinews, and restored to fight. + And now both heroes their broad falchions drew + In flaming circles round their heads they flew; + But then by heralds' voice the word was given. + The sacred ministers of earth and heaven: + Divine Talthybius, whom the Greeks employ. + And sage Idaeus on the part of Troy, + Between the swords their peaceful sceptres rear'd; + And first Idaeus' awful voice was heard: + + [Illustration: HECTOR AND AJAX SEPARATED BY THE HERALDS.] + + HECTOR AND AJAX SEPARATED BY THE HERALDS. + + + "Forbear, my sons! your further force to prove, + Both dear to men, and both beloved of Jove. + To either host your matchless worth is known, + Each sounds your praise, and war is all your own. + But now the Night extends her awful shade; + The goddess parts you; be the night obey'd."(184) + + To whom great Ajax his high soul express'd: + "O sage! to Hector be these words address'd. + Let him, who first provoked our chiefs to fight, + Let him demand the sanction of the night; + If first he ask'd it, I content obey, + And cease the strife when Hector shows the way." + + "O first of Greeks! (his noble foe rejoin'd) + Whom heaven adorns, superior to thy kind, + With strength of body, and with worth of mind! + Now martial law commands us to forbear; + Hereafter we shall meet in glorious war, + Some future day shall lengthen out the strife, + And let the gods decide of death or life! + Since, then, the night extends her gloomy shade, + And heaven enjoins it, be the night obey'd. + Return, brave Ajax, to thy Grecian friends, + And joy the nations whom thy arm defends; + As I shall glad each chief, and Trojan wife, + Who wearies heaven with vows for Hector's life. + But let us, on this memorable day, + Exchange some gift: that Greece and Troy may say, + 'Not hate, but glory, made these chiefs contend; + And each brave foe was in his soul a friend.'" + + With that, a sword with stars of silver graced, + The baldric studded, and the sheath enchased, + He gave the Greek. The generous Greek bestow'd + A radiant belt that rich with purple glow'd. + Then with majestic grace they quit the plain; + This seeks the Grecian, that the Phrygian train. + + The Trojan bands returning Hector wait, + And hail with joy the Champion of their state; + Escaped great Ajax, they survey him round, + Alive, unarm'd, and vigorous from his wound; + To Troy's high gates the godlike man they bear + Their present triumph, as their late despair. + + But Ajax, glorying in his hardy deed, + The well-arm'd Greeks to Agamemnon lead. + A steer for sacrifice the king design'd, + Of full five years, and of the nobler kind. + The victim falls; they strip the smoking hide, + The beast they quarter, and the joints divide; + Then spread the tables, the repast prepare, + Each takes his seat, and each receives his share. + The king himself (an honorary sign) + Before great Ajax placed the mighty chine.(185) + When now the rage of hunger was removed, + Nestor, in each persuasive art approved, + The sage whose counsels long had sway'd the rest, + In words like these his prudent thought express'd: + + "How dear, O kings! this fatal day has cost, + What Greeks are perish'd! what a people lost! + What tides of blood have drench'd Scamander's shore! + What crowds of heroes sunk to rise no more! + Then hear me, chief! nor let the morrow's light + Awake thy squadrons to new toils of fight: + Some space at least permit the war to breathe, + While we to flames our slaughter'd friends bequeath, + From the red field their scatter'd bodies bear, + And nigh the fleet a funeral structure rear; + So decent urns their snowy bones may keep, + And pious children o'er their ashes weep. + Here, where on one promiscuous pile they blazed, + High o'er them all a general tomb be raised; + Next, to secure our camp and naval powers, + Raise an embattled wall, with lofty towers; + From space to space be ample gates around, + For passing chariots; and a trench profound. + So Greece to combat shall in safety go, + Nor fear the fierce incursions of the foe." + 'Twas thus the sage his wholesome counsel moved; + The sceptred kings of Greece his words approved. + + Meanwhile, convened at Priam's palace-gate, + The Trojan peers in nightly council sate; + A senate void of order, as of choice: + Their hearts were fearful, and confused their voice. + Antenor, rising, thus demands their ear: + "Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliars, hear! + 'Tis heaven the counsel of my breast inspires, + And I but move what every god requires: + Let Sparta's treasures be this hour restored, + And Argive Helen own her ancient lord. + The ties of faith, the sworn alliance, broke, + Our impious battles the just gods provoke. + As this advice ye practise, or reject, + So hope success, or dread the dire effect." + + The senior spoke and sate. To whom replied + The graceful husband of the Spartan bride: + "Cold counsels, Trojan, may become thy years + But sound ungrateful in a warrior's ears: + Old man, if void of fallacy or art, + Thy words express the purpose of thy heart, + Thou, in thy time, more sound advice hast given; + But wisdom has its date, assign'd by heaven. + Then hear me, princes of the Trojan name! + Their treasures I'll restore, but not the dame; + My treasures too, for peace, I will resign; + But be this bright possession ever mine." + + 'Twas then, the growing discord to compose, + Slow from his seat the reverend Priam rose: + His godlike aspect deep attention drew: + He paused, and these pacific words ensue: + + "Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliar bands! + Now take refreshment as the hour demands; + Guard well the walls, relieve the watch of night. + Till the new sun restores the cheerful light. + Then shall our herald, to the Atrides sent, + Before their ships proclaim my son's intent. + Next let a truce be ask'd, that Troy may burn + Her slaughter'd heroes, and their bones inurn; + That done, once more the fate of war be tried, + And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide!" + + The monarch spoke: the warriors snatch'd with haste + (Each at his post in arms) a short repast. + Soon as the rosy morn had waked the day, + To the black ships Idaeus bent his way; + There, to the sons of Mars, in council found, + He raised his voice: the host stood listening round. + + "Ye sons of Atreus, and ye Greeks, give ear! + The words of Troy, and Troy's great monarch, hear. + Pleased may ye hear (so heaven succeed my prayers) + What Paris, author of the war, declares. + The spoils and treasures he to Ilion bore + (Oh had he perish'd ere they touch'd our shore!) + He proffers injured Greece: with large increase + Of added Trojan wealth to buy the peace. + But to restore the beauteous bride again, + This Greece demands, and Troy requests in vain. + Next, O ye chiefs! we ask a truce to burn + Our slaughter'd heroes, and their bones inurn. + That done, once more the fate of war be tried, + And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide!" + + The Greeks gave ear, but none the silence broke; + At length Tydides rose, and rising spoke: + "Oh, take not, friends! defrauded of your fame, + Their proffer'd wealth, nor even the Spartan dame. + Let conquest make them ours: fate shakes their wall, + And Troy already totters to her fall." + + The admiring chiefs, and all the Grecian name, + With general shouts return'd him loud acclaim. + Then thus the king of kings rejects the peace: + "Herald! in him thou hear'st the voice of Greece + For what remains; let funeral flames be fed + With heroes' corps: I war not with the dead: + Go search your slaughtered chiefs on yonder plain, + And gratify the manes of the slain. + Be witness, Jove, whose thunder rolls on high!" + He said, and rear'd his sceptre to the sky. + + To sacred Troy, where all her princes lay + To wait the event, the herald bent his way. + He came, and standing in the midst, explain'd + The peace rejected, but the truce obtain'd. + Straight to their several cares the Trojans move, + Some search the plains, some fell the sounding grove: + Nor less the Greeks, descending on the shore, + Hew'd the green forests, and the bodies bore. + And now from forth the chambers of the main, + To shed his sacred light on earth again, + Arose the golden chariot of the day, + And tipp'd the mountains with a purple ray. + In mingled throngs the Greek and Trojan train + Through heaps of carnage search'd the mournful plain. + Scarce could the friend his slaughter'd friend explore, + With dust dishonour'd, and deformed with gore. + The wounds they wash'd, their pious tears they shed, + And, laid along their cars, deplored the dead. + Sage Priam check'd their grief: with silent haste + The bodies decent on the piles were placed: + With melting hearts the cold remains they burn'd, + And, sadly slow, to sacred Troy return'd. + Nor less the Greeks their pious sorrows shed, + And decent on the pile dispose the dead; + The cold remains consume with equal care; + And slowly, sadly, to their fleet repair. + Now, ere the morn had streak'd with reddening light + The doubtful confines of the day and night, + About the dying flames the Greeks appear'd, + And round the pile a general tomb they rear'd. + Then, to secure the camp and naval powers, + They raised embattled walls with lofty towers:(186) + From space to space were ample gates around, + For passing chariots, and a trench profound + Of large extent; and deep in earth below, + Strong piles infix'd stood adverse to the foe. + + So toil'd the Greeks: meanwhile the gods above, + In shining circle round their father Jove, + Amazed beheld the wondrous works of man: + Then he, whose trident shakes the earth, began: + + "What mortals henceforth shall our power adore, + Our fanes frequent, our oracles implore, + If the proud Grecians thus successful boast + Their rising bulwarks on the sea-beat coast? + See the long walls extending to the main, + No god consulted, and no victim slain! + Their fame shall fill the world's remotest ends, + Wide as the morn her golden beam extends; + While old Laomedon's divine abodes, + Those radiant structures raised by labouring gods, + Shall, razed and lost, in long oblivion sleep." + Thus spoke the hoary monarch of the deep. + + The almighty Thunderer with a frown replies, + That clouds the world, and blackens half the skies: + "Strong god of ocean! thou, whose rage can make + The solid earth's eternal basis shake! + What cause of fear from mortal works could move(187) + The meanest subject of our realms above? + Where'er the sun's refulgent rays are cast, + Thy power is honour'd, and thy fame shall last. + But yon proud work no future age shall view, + No trace remain where once the glory grew. + The sapp'd foundations by thy force shall fall, + And, whelm'd beneath the waves, drop the huge wall: + Vast drifts of sand shall change the former shore: + The ruin vanish'd, and the name no more." + + Thus they in heaven: while, o'er the Grecian train, + The rolling sun descending to the main + Beheld the finish'd work. Their bulls they slew; + Back from the tents the savoury vapour flew. + And now the fleet, arrived from Lemnos' strands, + With Bacchus' blessings cheered the generous bands. + Of fragrant wines the rich Eunaeus sent + A thousant measures to the royal tent. + (Eunaeus, whom Hypsipyle of yore + To Jason, shepherd of his people, bore,) + The rest they purchased at their proper cost, + And well the plenteous freight supplied the host: + Each, in exchange, proportion'd treasures gave;(188) + Some, brass or iron; some, an ox, or slave. + All night they feast, the Greek and Trojan powers: + Those on the fields, and these within their towers. + But Jove averse the signs of wrath display'd, + And shot red lightnings through the gloomy shade: + Humbled they stood; pale horror seized on all, + While the deep thunder shook the aerial hall. + Each pour'd to Jove before the bowl was crown'd; + And large libations drench'd the thirsty ground: + Then late, refresh'd with sleep from toils of fight, + Enjoy'd the balmy blessings of the night. + + [Illustration: GREEK AMPHORA--WINE VESSELS.] + + GREEK AMPHORA--WINE VESSELS. + + + + + +BOOK VIII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE SECOND BATTLE, AND THE DISTRESS OF THE GREEKS. + +Jupiter assembles a council of the deities, and threatens them with the +pains of Tartarus if they assist either side: Minerva only obtains of him +that she may direct the Greeks by her counsels.(189) his balances the +fates of both, and affrights the Greeks with his thunders and lightnings. +Nestor alone continues in the field in great danger: Diomed relieves him; +whose exploits, and those of Hector, are excellently described. Juno +endeavours to animate Neptune to the assistance of the Greeks, but in +vain. The acts of Teucer, who is at length wounded by Hector, and carried +off. Juno and Minerva prepare to aid the Grecians, but are restrained by +Iris, sent from Jupiter. The night puts an end to the battle. Hector +continues in the field, (the Greeks being driven to their fortifications +before the ships,) and gives orders to keep the watch all night in the +camp, to prevent the enemy from re-embarking and escaping by flight. They +kindle fires through all the fields, and pass the night under arms. + +The time of seven and twenty days is employed from the opening of the poem +to the end of this book. The scene here (except of the celestial machines) +lies in the field towards the seashore. + + Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn, + Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn; + When Jove convened the senate of the skies, + Where high Olympus' cloudy tops arise, + The sire of gods his awful silence broke; + The heavens attentive trembled as he spoke: + + "Celestial states! immortal gods! give ear, + Hear our decree, and reverence what ye hear; + The fix'd decree which not all heaven can move; + Thou, fate! fulfil it! and, ye powers, approve! + What god but enters yon forbidden field, + Who yields assistance, or but wills to yield, + Back to the skies with shame he shall be driven, + Gash'd with dishonest wounds, the scorn of heaven; + Or far, oh far, from steep Olympus thrown, + Low in the dark Tartarean gulf shall groan, + With burning chains fix'd to the brazen floors, + And lock'd by hell's inexorable doors; + As deep beneath the infernal centre hurl'd,(190) + As from that centre to the ethereal world. + Let him who tempts me, dread those dire abodes: + And know, the Almighty is the god of gods. + League all your forces, then, ye powers above, + Join all, and try the omnipotence of Jove. + Let down our golden everlasting chain(191) + Whose strong embrace holds heaven, and earth, and main + Strive all, of mortal and immortal birth, + To drag, by this, the Thunderer down to earth + Ye strive in vain! if I but stretch this hand, + I heave the gods, the ocean, and the land; + I fix the chain to great Olympus' height, + And the vast world hangs trembling in my sight! + For such I reign, unbounded and above; + And such are men, and gods, compared to Jove." + + The all-mighty spoke, nor durst the powers reply: + A reverend horror silenced all the sky; + Trembling they stood before their sovereign's look; + At length his best-beloved, the power of wisdom, spoke: + + "O first and greatest! God, by gods adored + We own thy might, our father and our lord! + But, ah! permit to pity human state: + If not to help, at least lament their fate. + From fields forbidden we submiss refrain, + With arms unaiding mourn our Argives slain; + Yet grant my counsels still their breasts may move, + Or all must perish in the wrath of Jove." + + The cloud-compelling god her suit approved, + And smiled superior on his best beloved; + Then call'd his coursers, and his chariot took; + The stedfast firmament beneath them shook: + Rapt by the ethereal steeds the chariot roll'd; + Brass were their hoofs, their curling manes of gold: + Of heaven's undrossy gold the gods array, + Refulgent, flash'd intolerable day. + High on the throne he shines: his coursers fly + Between the extended earth and starry sky. + But when to Ida's topmost height he came, + (Fair nurse of fountains, and of savage game,) + Where o'er her pointed summits proudly raised, + His fane breathed odours, and his altar blazed: + There, from his radiant car, the sacred sire + Of gods and men released the steeds of fire: + Blue ambient mists the immortal steeds embraced; + High on the cloudy point his seat he placed; + Thence his broad eye the subject world surveys, + The town, and tents, and navigable seas. + + Now had the Grecians snatch'd a short repast, + And buckled on their shining arms with haste. + Troy roused as soon; for on this dreadful day + The fate of fathers, wives, and infants lay. + The gates unfolding pour forth all their train; + Squadrons on squadrons cloud the dusky plain: + Men, steeds, and chariots shake the trembling ground, + The tumult thickens, and the skies resound; + And now with shouts the shocking armies closed, + To lances lances, shields to shields opposed, + Host against host with shadowy legends drew, + The sounding darts in iron tempests flew; + Victors and vanquish'd join promiscuous cries, + Triumphant shouts and dying groans arise; + With streaming blood the slippery fields are dyed, + And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide. + Long as the morning beams, increasing bright, + O'er heaven's clear azure spread the sacred light, + Commutual death the fate of war confounds, + Each adverse battle gored with equal wounds. + But when the sun the height of heaven ascends, + The sire of gods his golden scales suspends,(192) + With equal hand: in these explored the fate + Of Greece and Troy, and poised the mighty weight: + Press'd with its load, the Grecian balance lies + Low sunk on earth, the Trojan strikes the skies. + Then Jove from Ida's top his horrors spreads; + The clouds burst dreadful o'er the Grecian heads; + Thick lightnings flash; the muttering thunder rolls; + Their strength he withers, and unmans their souls. + Before his wrath the trembling hosts retire; + The gods in terrors, and the skies on fire. + Nor great Idomeneus that sight could bear, + Nor each stern Ajax, thunderbolts of war: + Nor he, the king of war, the alarm sustain'd + Nestor alone, amidst the storm remain'd. + Unwilling he remain'd, for Paris' dart + Had pierced his courser in a mortal part; + Fix'd in the forehead, where the springing man + Curl'd o'er the brow, it stung him to the brain; + Mad with his anguish, he begins to rear, + Paw with his hoofs aloft, and lash the air. + Scarce had his falchion cut the reins, and freed + The encumber'd chariot from the dying steed, + When dreadful Hector, thundering through the war, + Pour'd to the tumult on his whirling car. + That day had stretch'd beneath his matchless hand + The hoary monarch of the Pylian band, + But Diomed beheld; from forth the crowd + He rush'd, and on Ulysses call'd aloud: + + "Whither, oh whither does Ulysses run? + Oh, flight unworthy great Laertes' son! + Mix'd with the vulgar shall thy fate be found, + Pierced in the back, a vile, dishonest wound? + Oh turn and save from Hector's direful rage + The glory of the Greeks, the Pylian sage." + His fruitless words are lost unheard in air, + Ulysses seeks the ships, and shelters there. + But bold Tydides to the rescue goes, + A single warrior midst a host of foes; + Before the coursers with a sudden spring + He leap'd, and anxious thus bespoke the king: + + "Great perils, father! wait the unequal fight; + These younger champions will oppress thy might. + Thy veins no more with ancient vigour glow, + Weak is thy servant, and thy coursers slow. + Then haste, ascend my seat, and from the car + Observe the steeds of Tros, renown'd in war. + Practised alike to turn, to stop, to chase, + To dare the fight, or urge the rapid race: + These late obey'd AEneas' guiding rein; + Leave thou thy chariot to our faithful train; + With these against yon Trojans will we go, + Nor shall great Hector want an equal foe; + Fierce as he is, even he may learn to fear + The thirsty fury of my flying spear." + + Thus said the chief; and Nestor, skill'd in war, + Approves his counsel, and ascends the car: + The steeds he left, their trusty servants hold; + Eurymedon, and Sthenelus the bold: + The reverend charioteer directs the course, + And strains his aged arm to lash the horse. + Hector they face; unknowing how to fear, + Fierce he drove on; Tydides whirl'd his spear. + The spear with erring haste mistook its way, + But plunged in Eniopeus' bosom lay. + His opening hand in death forsakes the rein; + The steeds fly back: he falls, and spurns the plain. + Great Hector sorrows for his servant kill'd, + Yet unrevenged permits to press the field; + Till, to supply his place and rule the car, + Rose Archeptolemus, the fierce in war. + And now had death and horror cover'd all;(193) + Like timorous flocks the Trojans in their wall + Inclosed had bled: but Jove with awful sound + Roll'd the big thunder o'er the vast profound: + Full in Tydides' face the lightning flew; + The ground before him flamed with sulphur blue; + The quivering steeds fell prostrate at the sight; + And Nestor's trembling hand confess'd his fright: + He dropp'd the reins: and, shook with sacred dread, + Thus, turning, warn'd the intrepid Diomed: + + "O chief! too daring in thy friend's defence + Retire advised, and urge the chariot hence. + This day, averse, the sovereign of the skies + Assists great Hector, and our palm denies. + Some other sun may see the happier hour, + When Greece shall conquer by his heavenly power. + 'Tis not in man his fix'd decree to move: + The great will glory to submit to Jove." + + "O reverend prince! (Tydides thus replies) + Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise. + But ah, what grief! should haughty Hector boast + I fled inglorious to the guarded coast. + Before that dire disgrace shall blast my fame, + O'erwhelm me, earth; and hide a warrior's shame!" + To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied:(194) + "Gods! can thy courage fear the Phrygian's pride? + Hector may vaunt, but who shall heed the boast? + Not those who felt thy arm, the Dardan host, + Nor Troy, yet bleeding in her heroes lost; + Not even a Phrygian dame, who dreads the sword + That laid in dust her loved, lamented lord." + He said, and, hasty, o'er the gasping throng + Drives the swift steeds: the chariot smokes along; + The shouts of Trojans thicken in the wind; + The storm of hissing javelins pours behind. + Then with a voice that shakes the solid skies, + Pleased, Hector braves the warrior as he flies. + "Go, mighty hero! graced above the rest + In seats of council and the sumptuous feast: + Now hope no more those honours from thy train; + Go less than woman, in the form of man! + To scale our walls, to wrap our towers in flames, + To lead in exile the fair Phrygian dames, + Thy once proud hopes, presumptuous prince! are fled; + This arm shall reach thy heart, and stretch thee dead." + + Now fears dissuade him, and now hopes invite. + To stop his coursers, and to stand the fight; + Thrice turn'd the chief, and thrice imperial Jove + On Ida's summits thunder'd from above. + Great Hector heard; he saw the flashing light, + (The sign of conquest,) and thus urged the fight: + + "Hear, every Trojan, Lycian, Dardan band, + All famed in war, and dreadful hand to hand. + Be mindful of the wreaths your arms have won, + Your great forefathers' glories, and your own. + Heard ye the voice of Jove? Success and fame + Await on Troy, on Greece eternal shame. + In vain they skulk behind their boasted wall, + Weak bulwarks; destined by this arm to fall. + High o'er their slighted trench our steeds shall bound, + And pass victorious o'er the levell'd mound. + Soon as before yon hollow ships we stand, + Fight each with flames, and toss the blazing brand; + Till, their proud navy wrapt in smoke and fires, + All Greece, encompass'd, in one blaze expires." + + Furious he said; then bending o'er the yoke, + Encouraged his proud steeds, while thus he spoke: + + "Now, Xanthus, AEthon, Lampus, urge the chase, + And thou, Podargus! prove thy generous race; + Be fleet, be fearless, this important day, + And all your master's well-spent care repay. + For this, high-fed, in plenteous stalls ye stand, + Served with pure wheat, and by a princess' hand; + For this my spouse, of great Aetion's line, + So oft has steep'd the strengthening grain in wine. + Now swift pursue, now thunder uncontroll'd: + Give me to seize rich Nestor's shield of gold; + From Tydeus' shoulders strip the costly load, + Vulcanian arms, the labour of a god: + These if we gain, then victory, ye powers! + This night, this glorious night, the fleet is ours!" + + That heard, deep anguish stung Saturnia's soul; + She shook her throne, that shook the starry pole: + And thus to Neptune: "Thou, whose force can make + The stedfast earth from her foundations shake, + Seest thou the Greeks by fates unjust oppress'd, + Nor swells thy heart in that immortal breast? + Yet AEgae, Helice, thy power obey,(195) + And gifts unceasing on thine altars lay. + Would all the deities of Greece combine, + In vain the gloomy Thunderer might repine: + Sole should he sit, with scarce a god to friend, + And see his Trojans to the shades descend: + Such be the scene from his Idaean bower; + Ungrateful prospect to the sullen power!" + + Neptune with wrath rejects the rash design: + "What rage, what madness, furious queen! is thine? + I war not with the highest. All above + Submit and tremble at the hand of Jove." + + Now godlike Hector, to whose matchless might + Jove gave the glory of the destined fight, + Squadrons on squadrons drives, and fills the fields + With close-ranged chariots, and with thicken'd shields. + Where the deep trench in length extended lay, + Compacted troops stand wedged in firm array, + A dreadful front! they shake the brands, and threat + With long-destroying flames the hostile fleet. + The king of men, by Juno's self inspired, + Toil'd through the tents, and all his army fired. + Swift as he moved, he lifted in his hand + His purple robe, bright ensign of command. + High on the midmost bark the king appear'd: + There, from Ulysses' deck, his voice was heard: + To Ajax and Achilles reach'd the sound, + Whose distant ships the guarded navy bound. + "O Argives! shame of human race! (he cried: + The hollow vessels to his voice replied,) + Where now are all your glorious boasts of yore, + Your hasty triumphs on the Lemnian shore? + Each fearless hero dares a hundred foes, + While the feast lasts, and while the goblet flows; + But who to meet one martial man is found, + When the fight rages, and the flames surround? + O mighty Jove! O sire of the distress'd! + Was ever king like me, like me oppress'd? + With power immense, with justice arm'd in vain; + My glory ravish'd, and my people slain! + To thee my vows were breathed from every shore; + What altar smoked not with our victims' gore? + With fat of bulls I fed the constant flame, + And ask'd destruction to the Trojan name. + Now, gracious god! far humbler our demand; + Give these at least to 'scape from Hector's hand, + And save the relics of the Grecian land!" + + Thus pray'd the king, and heaven's great father heard + His vows, in bitterness of soul preferr'd: + The wrath appeased, by happy signs declares, + And gives the people to their monarch's prayers. + His eagle, sacred bird of heaven! he sent, + A fawn his talons truss'd, (divine portent!) + High o'er the wondering hosts he soar'd above, + Who paid their vows to Panomphaean Jove; + Then let the prey before his altar fall; + The Greeks beheld, and transport seized on all: + Encouraged by the sign, the troops revive, + And fierce on Troy with doubled fury drive. + Tydides first, of all the Grecian force, + O'er the broad ditch impell'd his foaming horse, + Pierced the deep ranks, their strongest battle tore, + And dyed his javelin red with Trojan gore. + Young Agelaus (Phradmon was his sire) + With flying coursers shunn'd his dreadful ire; + Struck through the back, the Phrygian fell oppress'd; + The dart drove on, and issued at his breast: + Headlong he quits the car: his arms resound; + His ponderous buckler thunders on the ground. + Forth rush a tide of Greeks, the passage freed; + The Atridae first, the Ajaces next succeed: + Meriones, like Mars in arms renown'd, + And godlike Idomen, now passed the mound; + Evaemon's son next issues to the foe, + And last young Teucer with his bended bow. + Secure behind the Telamonian shield + The skilful archer wide survey'd the field, + With every shaft some hostile victim slew, + Then close beneath the sevenfold orb withdrew: + The conscious infant so, when fear alarms, + Retires for safety to the mother's arms. + Thus Ajax guards his brother in the field, + Moves as he moves, and turns the shining shield. + Who first by Teucer's mortal arrows bled? + Orsilochus; then fell Ormenus dead: + The godlike Lycophon next press'd the plain, + With Chromius, Daetor, Ophelestes slain: + Bold Hamopaon breathless sunk to ground; + The bloody pile great Melanippus crown'd. + Heaps fell on heaps, sad trophies of his art, + A Trojan ghost attending every dart. + Great Agamemnon views with joyful eye + The ranks grow thinner as his arrows fly: + "O youth forever dear! (the monarch cried) + Thus, always thus, thy early worth be tried; + Thy brave example shall retrieve our host, + Thy country's saviour, and thy father's boast! + Sprung from an alien's bed thy sire to grace, + The vigorous offspring of a stolen embrace: + Proud of his boy, he own'd the generous flame, + And the brave son repays his cares with fame. + Now hear a monarch's vow: If heaven's high powers + Give me to raze Troy's long-defended towers; + Whatever treasures Greece for me design, + The next rich honorary gift be thine: + Some golden tripod, or distinguished car, + With coursers dreadful in the ranks of war: + Or some fair captive, whom thy eyes approve, + Shall recompense the warrior's toils with love." + + To this the chief: "With praise the rest inspire, + Nor urge a soul already fill'd with fire. + What strength I have, be now in battle tried, + Till every shaft in Phrygian blood be dyed. + Since rallying from our wall we forced the foe, + Still aim'd at Hector have I bent my bow: + Eight forky arrows from this hand have fled, + And eight bold heroes by their points lie dead: + But sure some god denies me to destroy + This fury of the field, this dog of Troy." + + He said, and twang'd the string. The weapon flies + At Hector's breast, and sings along the skies: + He miss'd the mark; but pierced Gorgythio's heart, + And drench'd in royal blood the thirsty dart. + (Fair Castianira, nymph of form divine, + This offspring added to king Priam's line.) + As full-blown poppies, overcharged with rain,(196) + Decline the head, and drooping kiss the plain; + So sinks the youth: his beauteous head, depress'd + Beneath his helmet, drops upon his breast. + Another shaft the raging archer drew, + That other shaft with erring fury flew, + (From Hector, Phoebus turn'd the flying wound,) + Yet fell not dry or guiltless to the ground: + Thy breast, brave Archeptolemus! it tore, + And dipp'd its feathers in no vulgar gore. + Headlong he falls: his sudden fall alarms + The steeds, that startle at his sounding arms. + Hector with grief his charioteer beheld + All pale and breathless on the sanguine field: + Then bids Cebriones direct the rein, + Quits his bright car, and issues on the plain. + Dreadful he shouts: from earth a stone he took, + And rush'd on Teucer with the lifted rock. + The youth already strain'd the forceful yew; + The shaft already to his shoulder drew; + The feather in his hand, just wing'd for flight, + Touch'd where the neck and hollow chest unite; + There, where the juncture knits the channel bone, + The furious chief discharged the craggy stone: + The bow-string burst beneath the ponderous blow, + And his numb'd hand dismiss'd his useless bow. + He fell: but Ajax his broad shield display'd, + And screen'd his brother with the mighty shade; + Till great Alaster, and Mecistheus, bore + The batter'd archer groaning to the shore. + + Troy yet found grace before the Olympian sire, + He arm'd their hands, and fill'd their breasts with fire. + The Greeks repulsed, retreat behind their wall, + Or in the trench on heaps confusedly fall. + First of the foe, great Hector march'd along, + With terror clothed, and more than mortal strong. + As the bold hound, that gives the lion chase, + With beating bosom, and with eager pace, + Hangs on his haunch, or fastens on his heels, + Guards as he turns, and circles as he wheels; + Thus oft the Grecians turn'd, but still they flew; + Thus following, Hector still the hindmost slew. + When flying they had pass'd the trench profound, + And many a chief lay gasping on the ground; + Before the ships a desperate stand they made, + And fired the troops, and called the gods to aid. + Fierce on his rattling chariot Hector came: + His eyes like Gorgon shot a sanguine flame + That wither'd all their host: like Mars he stood: + Dire as the monster, dreadful as the god! + Their strong distress the wife of Jove survey'd; + Then pensive thus, to war's triumphant maid: + + "O daughter of that god, whose arm can wield + The avenging bolt, and shake the sable shield! + Now, in this moment of her last despair, + Shall wretched Greece no more confess our care, + Condemn'd to suffer the full force of fate, + And drain the dregs of heaven's relentless hate? + Gods! shall one raging hand thus level all? + What numbers fell! what numbers yet shall fall! + What power divine shall Hector's wrath assuage? + Still swells the slaughter, and still grows the rage!" + + So spake the imperial regent of the skies; + To whom the goddess with the azure eyes: + + "Long since had Hector stain'd these fields with gore, + Stretch'd by some Argive on his native shore: + But he above, the sire of heaven, withstands, + Mocks our attempts, and slights our just demands; + The stubborn god, inflexible and hard, + Forgets my service and deserved reward: + Saved I, for this, his favourite son distress'd, + By stern Eurystheus with long labours press'd? + He begg'd, with tears he begg'd, in deep dismay; + I shot from heaven, and gave his arm the day. + Oh had my wisdom known this dire event, + When to grim Pluto's gloomy gates he went; + The triple dog had never felt his chain, + Nor Styx been cross'd, nor hell explored in vain. + Averse to me of all his heaven of gods, + At Thetis' suit the partial Thunderer nods; + To grace her gloomy, fierce, resenting son, + My hopes are frustrate, and my Greeks undone. + Some future day, perhaps, he may be moved + To call his blue-eyed maid his best beloved. + Haste, launch thy chariot, through yon ranks to ride; + Myself will arm, and thunder at thy side. + Then, goddess! say, shall Hector glory then? + (That terror of the Greeks, that man of men) + When Juno's self, and Pallas shall appear, + All dreadful in the crimson walks of war! + What mighty Trojan then, on yonder shore, + Expiring, pale, and terrible no more, + Shall feast the fowls, and glut the dogs with gore?" + + She ceased, and Juno rein'd the steeds with care: + (Heaven's awful empress, Saturn's other heir:) + Pallas, meanwhile, her various veil unbound, + With flowers adorn'd, with art immortal crown'd; + The radiant robe her sacred fingers wove + Floats in rich waves, and spreads the court of Jove. + Her father's arms her mighty limbs invest, + His cuirass blazes on her ample breast. + The vigorous power the trembling car ascends: + Shook by her arm, the massy javelin bends: + Huge, ponderous, strong! that when her fury burns + Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns. + + Saturnia lends the lash; the coursers fly; + Smooth glides the chariot through the liquid sky. + Heaven's gates spontaneous open to the powers, + Heaven's golden gates, kept by the winged Hours. + Commission'd in alternate watch they stand, + The sun's bright portals and the skies command; + Close, or unfold, the eternal gates of day + Bar heaven with clouds, or roll those clouds away. + The sounding hinges ring, the clouds divide. + Prone down the steep of heaven their course they guide. + But Jove, incensed, from Ida's top survey'd, + And thus enjoin'd the many-colour'd maid. + + [Illustration: JUNO AND MINERVA GOING TO ASSIST THE GREEKS.] + + JUNO AND MINERVA GOING TO ASSIST THE GREEKS. + + + "Thaumantia! mount the winds, and stop their car; + Against the highest who shall wage the war? + If furious yet they dare the vain debate, + Thus have I spoke, and what I speak is fate: + Their coursers crush'd beneath the wheels shall lie, + Their car in fragments, scatter'd o'er the sky: + My lightning these rebellious shall confound, + And hurl them flaming, headlong, to the ground, + Condemn'd for ten revolving years to weep + The wounds impress'd by burning thunder deep. + So shall Minerva learn to fear our ire, + Nor dare to combat hers and nature's sire. + For Juno, headstrong and imperious still, + She claims some title to transgress our will." + + Swift as the wind, the various-colour'd maid + From Ida's top her golden wings display'd; + To great Olympus' shining gate she flies, + There meets the chariot rushing down the skies, + Restrains their progress from the bright abodes, + And speaks the mandate of the sire of gods. + + "What frenzy goddesses! what rage can move + Celestial minds to tempt the wrath of Jove? + Desist, obedient to his high command: + This is his word; and know his word shall stand: + His lightning your rebellion shall confound, + And hurl ye headlong, flaming, to the ground; + Your horses crush'd beneath the wheels shall lie, + Your car in fragments scatter'd o'er the sky; + Yourselves condemn'd ten rolling years to weep + The wounds impress'd by burning thunder deep. + So shall Minerva learn to fear his ire, + Nor dare to combat hers and nature's sire. + For Juno, headstrong and imperious still, + She claims some title to transgress his will: + But thee, what desperate insolence has driven + To lift thy lance against the king of heaven?" + + Then, mounting on the pinions of the wind, + She flew; and Juno thus her rage resign'd: + + "O daughter of that god, whose arm can wield + The avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield + No more let beings of superior birth + Contend with Jove for this low race of earth; + Triumphant now, now miserably slain, + They breathe or perish as the fates ordain: + But Jove's high counsels full effect shall find; + And, ever constant, ever rule mankind." + + She spoke, and backward turn'd her steeds of light, + Adorn'd with manes of gold, and heavenly bright. + The Hours unloosed them, panting as they stood, + And heap'd their mangers with ambrosial food. + There tied, they rest in high celestial stalls; + The chariot propp'd against the crystal walls, + The pensive goddesses, abash'd, controll'd, + Mix with the gods, and fill their seats of gold. + + [Illustration: THE HOURS TAKING THE HORSES FROM JUNO'S CAR.] + + THE HOURS TAKING THE HORSES FROM JUNO'S CAR. + + + And now the Thunderer meditates his flight + From Ida's summits to the Olympian height. + Swifter than thought, the wheels instinctive fly, + Flame through the vast of air, and reach the sky. + 'Twas Neptune's charge his coursers to unbrace, + And fix the car on its immortal base; + There stood the chariot, beaming forth its rays, + Till with a snowy veil he screen'd the blaze. + He, whose all-conscious eyes the world behold, + The eternal Thunderer sat, enthroned in gold. + High heaven the footstool of his feet he makes, + And wide beneath him all Olympus shakes. + Trembling afar the offending powers appear'd, + Confused and silent, for his frown they fear'd. + He saw their soul, and thus his word imparts: + "Pallas and Juno! say, why heave your hearts? + Soon was your battle o'er: proud Troy retired + Before your face, and in your wrath expired. + But know, whoe'er almighty power withstand! + Unmatch'd our force, unconquer'd is our hand: + Who shall the sovereign of the skies control? + Not all the gods that crown the starry pole. + Your hearts shall tremble, if our arms we take, + And each immortal nerve with horror shake. + For thus I speak, and what I speak shall stand; + What power soe'er provokes our lifted hand, + On this our hill no more shall hold his place; + Cut off, and exiled from the ethereal race." + + Juno and Pallas grieving hear the doom, + But feast their souls on Ilion's woes to come. + Though secret anger swell'd Minerva's breast, + The prudent goddess yet her wrath repress'd; + But Juno, impotent of rage, replies: + "What hast thou said, O tyrant of the skies! + Strength and omnipotence invest thy throne; + 'Tis thine to punish; ours to grieve alone. + For Greece we grieve, abandon'd by her fate + To drink the dregs of thy unmeasured hate. + From fields forbidden we submiss refrain, + With arms unaiding see our Argives slain; + Yet grant our counsels still their breasts may move, + Lest all should perish in the rage of Jove." + + The goddess thus; and thus the god replies, + Who swells the clouds, and blackens all the skies: + + "The morning sun, awaked by loud alarms, + Shall see the almighty Thunderer in arms. + What heaps of Argives then shall load the plain, + Those radiant eyes shall view, and view in vain. + Nor shall great Hector cease the rage of fight, + The navy flaming, and thy Greeks in flight, + Even till the day when certain fates ordain + That stern Achilles (his Patroclus slain) + Shall rise in vengeance, and lay waste the plain. + For such is fate, nor canst thou turn its course + With all thy rage, with all thy rebel force. + Fly, if thy wilt, to earth's remotest bound, + Where on her utmost verge the seas resound; + Where cursed Iapetus and Saturn dwell, + Fast by the brink, within the streams of hell; + No sun e'er gilds the gloomy horrors there; + No cheerful gales refresh the lazy air: + There arm once more the bold Titanian band; + And arm in vain; for what I will, shall stand." + + Now deep in ocean sunk the lamp of light, + And drew behind the cloudy veil of night: + The conquering Trojans mourn his beams decay'd; + The Greeks rejoicing bless the friendly shade. + + The victors keep the field; and Hector calls + A martial council near the navy walls; + These to Scamander's bank apart he led, + Where thinly scatter'd lay the heaps of dead. + The assembled chiefs, descending on the ground, + Attend his order, and their prince surround. + A massy spear he bore of mighty strength, + Of full ten cubits was the lance's length; + The point was brass, refulgent to behold, + Fix'd to the wood with circling rings of gold: + The noble Hector on his lance reclined, + And, bending forward, thus reveal'd his mind: + + "Ye valiant Trojans, with attention hear! + Ye Dardan bands, and generous aids, give ear! + This day, we hoped, would wrap in conquering flame + Greece with her ships, and crown our toils with fame. + But darkness now, to save the cowards, falls, + And guards them trembling in their wooden walls. + Obey the night, and use her peaceful hours + Our steeds to forage, and refresh our powers. + Straight from the town be sheep and oxen sought, + And strengthening bread and generous wine be brought + Wide o'er the field, high blazing to the sky, + Let numerous fires the absent sun supply, + The flaming piles with plenteous fuel raise, + Till the bright morn her purple beam displays; + Lest, in the silence and the shades of night, + Greece on her sable ships attempt her flight. + Not unmolested let the wretches gain + Their lofty decks, or safely cleave the main; + Some hostile wound let every dart bestow, + Some lasting token of the Phrygian foe, + Wounds, that long hence may ask their spouses' care. + And warn their children from a Trojan war. + Now through the circuit of our Ilion wall, + Let sacred heralds sound the solemn call; + To bid the sires with hoary honours crown'd, + And beardless youths, our battlements surround. + Firm be the guard, while distant lie our powers, + And let the matrons hang with lights the towers; + Lest, under covert of the midnight shade, + The insidious foe the naked town invade. + Suffice, to-night, these orders to obey; + A nobler charge shall rouse the dawning day. + The gods, I trust, shall give to Hector's hand + From these detested foes to free the land, + Who plough'd, with fates averse, the watery way: + For Trojan vultures a predestined prey. + Our common safety must be now the care; + But soon as morning paints the fields of air, + Sheathed in bright arms let every troop engage, + And the fired fleet behold the battle rage. + Then, then shall Hector and Tydides prove + Whose fates are heaviest in the scales of Jove. + To-morrow's light (O haste the glorious morn!) + Shall see his bloody spoils in triumph borne, + With this keen javelin shall his breast be gored, + And prostrate heroes bleed around their lord. + Certain as this, oh! might my days endure, + From age inglorious, and black death secure; + So might my life and glory know no bound, + Like Pallas worshipp'd, like the sun renown'd! + As the next dawn, the last they shall enjoy, + Shall crush the Greeks, and end the woes of Troy." + + The leader spoke. From all his host around + Shouts of applause along the shores resound. + Each from the yoke the smoking steeds untied, + And fix'd their headstalls to his chariot-side. + Fat sheep and oxen from the town are led, + With generous wine, and all-sustaining bread, + Full hecatombs lay burning on the shore: + The winds to heaven the curling vapours bore. + Ungrateful offering to the immortal powers!(197) + Whose wrath hung heavy o'er the Trojan towers: + Nor Priam nor his sons obtain'd their grace; + Proud Troy they hated, and her guilty race. + + The troops exulting sat in order round, + And beaming fires illumined all the ground. + As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,(198) + O'er heaven's pure azure spreads her sacred light, + When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, + And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene, + Around her throne the vivid planets roll, + And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole, + O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, + And tip with silver every mountain's head: + Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, + A flood of glory bursts from all the skies: + The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, + Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light. + So many flames before proud Ilion blaze, + And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays. + The long reflections of the distant fires + Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires. + A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild, + And shoot a shady lustre o'er the field. + Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend, + Whose umber'd arms, by fits, thick flashes send, + Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps of corn, + And ardent warriors wait the rising morn. + + [Illustration: THE SHIELD OF ACHILLES.] + + THE SHIELD OF ACHILLES. + + + + + +BOOK IX. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES. + +Agamemnon, after the last day's defeat, proposes to the Greeks to quit the +siege, and return to their country. Diomed opposes this, and Nestor +seconds him, praising his wisdom and resolution. He orders the guard to be +strengthened, and a council summoned to deliberate what measures are to be +followed in this emergency. Agamemnon pursues this advice, and Nestor +further prevails upon him to send ambassadors to Achilles, in order to +move him to a reconciliation. Ulysses and Ajax are made choice of, who are +accompanied by old Phoenix. They make, each of them, very moving and +pressing speeches, but are rejected with roughness by Achilles, who +notwithstanding retains Phoenix in his tent. The ambassadors return +unsuccessfully to the camp, and the troops betake themselves to sleep. + +This book, and the next following, take up the space of one night, which +is the twenty-seventh from the beginning of the poem. The scene lies on +the sea-shore, the station of the Grecian ships. + + Thus joyful Troy maintain'd the watch of night; + While fear, pale comrade of inglorious flight,(199) + And heaven-bred horror, on the Grecian part, + Sat on each face, and sadden'd every heart. + As from its cloudy dungeon issuing forth, + A double tempest of the west and north + Swells o'er the sea, from Thracia's frozen shore, + Heaps waves on waves, and bids the AEgean roar: + This way and that the boiling deeps are toss'd: + Such various passions urged the troubled host, + Great Agamemnon grieved above the rest; + Superior sorrows swell'd his royal breast; + Himself his orders to the heralds bears, + To bid to council all the Grecian peers, + But bid in whispers: these surround their chief, + In solemn sadness and majestic grief. + The king amidst the mournful circle rose: + Down his wan cheek a briny torrent flows. + So silent fountains, from a rock's tall head, + In sable streams soft-trickling waters shed. + With more than vulgar grief he stood oppress'd; + Words, mix'd with sighs, thus bursting from his breast: + + "Ye sons of Greece! partake your leader's care; + Fellows in arms and princes of the war! + Of partial Jove too justly we complain, + And heavenly oracles believed in vain. + A safe return was promised to our toils, + With conquest honour'd and enrich'd with spoils: + Now shameful flight alone can save the host; + Our wealth, our people, and our glory lost. + So Jove decrees, almighty lord of all! + Jove, at whose nod whole empires rise or fall, + Who shakes the feeble props of human trust, + And towers and armies humbles to the dust. + Haste then, for ever quit these fatal fields, + Haste to the joys our native country yields; + Spread all your canvas, all your oars employ, + Nor hope the fall of heaven-defended Troy." + + He said: deep silence held the Grecian band; + Silent, unmov'd in dire dismay they stand; + A pensive scene! till Tydeus' warlike son + Roll'd on the king his eyes, and thus begun: + "When kings advise us to renounce our fame, + First let him speak who first has suffer'd shame. + If I oppose thee, prince! thy wrath withhold, + The laws of council bid my tongue be bold. + Thou first, and thou alone, in fields of fight, + Durst brand my courage, and defame my might: + Nor from a friend the unkind reproach appear'd, + The Greeks stood witness, all our army heard. + The gods, O chief! from whom our honours spring, + The gods have made thee but by halves a king: + They gave thee sceptres, and a wide command; + They gave dominion o'er the seas and land; + The noblest power that might the world control + They gave thee not--a brave and virtuous soul. + Is this a general's voice, that would suggest + Fears like his own to every Grecian breast? + Confiding in our want of worth, he stands; + And if we fly, 'tis what our king commands. + Go thou, inglorious! from the embattled plain; + Ships thou hast store, and nearest to the main; + A noble care the Grecians shall employ, + To combat, conquer, and extirpate Troy. + Here Greece shall stay; or, if all Greece retire, + Myself shall stay, till Troy or I expire; + Myself, and Sthenelus, will fight for fame; + God bade us fight, and 'twas with God we came." + + He ceased; the Greeks loud acclamations raise, + And voice to voice resounds Tydides' praise. + Wise Nestor then his reverend figure rear'd; + He spoke: the host in still attention heard:(200) + + "O truly great! in whom the gods have join'd + Such strength of body with such force of mind: + In conduct, as in courage, you excel, + Still first to act what you advise so well. + These wholesome counsels which thy wisdom moves, + Applauding Greece with common voice approves. + Kings thou canst blame; a bold but prudent youth: + And blame even kings with praise, because with truth. + And yet those years that since thy birth have run + Would hardly style thee Nestor's youngest son. + Then let me add what yet remains behind, + A thought unfinish'd in that generous mind; + Age bids me speak! nor shall the advice I bring + Distaste the people, or offend the king: + + "Cursed is the man, and void of law and right, + Unworthy property, unworthy light, + Unfit for public rule, or private care, + That wretch, that monster, who delights in war; + Whose lust is murder, and whose horrid joy, + To tear his country, and his kind destroy! + This night, refresh and fortify thy train; + Between the trench and wall let guards remain: + Be that the duty of the young and bold; + But thou, O king, to council call the old; + Great is thy sway, and weighty are thy cares; + Thy high commands must spirit all our wars. + With Thracian wines recruit thy honour'd guests, + For happy counsels flow from sober feasts. + Wise, weighty counsels aid a state distress'd, + And such a monarch as can choose the best. + See what a blaze from hostile tents aspires, + How near our fleet approach the Trojan fires! + Who can, unmoved, behold the dreadful light? + What eye beholds them, and can close to-night? + This dreadful interval determines all; + To-morrow, Troy must flame, or Greece must fall." + + Thus spoke the hoary sage: the rest obey; + Swift through the gates the guards direct their way. + His son was first to pass the lofty mound, + The generous Thrasymed, in arms renown'd: + Next him, Ascalaphus, Ialmen, stood, + The double offspring of the warrior-god: + Deipyrus, Aphareus, Merion join, + And Lycomed of Creon's noble line. + Seven were the leaders of the nightly bands, + And each bold chief a hundred spears commands. + The fires they light, to short repasts they fall, + Some line the trench, and others man the wall. + + The king of men, on public counsels bent, + Convened the princes in his ample tent, + Each seized a portion of the kingly feast, + But stay'd his hand when thirst and hunger ceased. + Then Nestor spoke, for wisdom long approved, + And slowly rising, thus the council moved. + + "Monarch of nations! whose superior sway + Assembled states, and lords of earth obey, + The laws and sceptres to thy hand are given, + And millions own the care of thee and Heaven. + O king! the counsels of my age attend; + With thee my cares begin, with thee must end. + Thee, prince! it fits alike to speak and hear, + Pronounce with judgment, with regard give ear, + To see no wholesome motion be withstood, + And ratify the best for public good. + Nor, though a meaner give advice, repine, + But follow it, and make the wisdom thine. + Hear then a thought, not now conceived in haste, + At once my present judgment and my past. + When from Pelides' tent you forced the maid, + I first opposed, and faithful, durst dissuade; + But bold of soul, when headlong fury fired, + You wronged the man, by men and gods admired: + Now seek some means his fatal wrath to end, + With prayers to move him, or with gifts to bend." + + To whom the king. "With justice hast thou shown + A prince's faults, and I with reason own. + That happy man, whom Jove still honours most, + Is more than armies, and himself a host. + Bless'd in his love, this wondrous hero stands; + Heaven fights his war, and humbles all our bands. + Fain would my heart, which err'd through frantic rage, + The wrathful chief and angry gods assuage. + If gifts immense his mighty soul can bow,(201) + Hear, all ye Greeks, and witness what I vow. + Ten weighty talents of the purest gold, + And twice ten vases of refulgent mould: + Seven sacred tripods, whose unsullied frame + Yet knows no office, nor has felt the flame; + Twelve steeds unmatch'd in fleetness and in force, + And still victorious in the dusty course; + (Rich were the man whose ample stores exceed + The prizes purchased by their winged speed;) + Seven lovely captives of the Lesbian line, + Skill'd in each art, unmatch'd in form divine, + The same I chose for more than vulgar charms, + When Lesbos sank beneath the hero's arms: + All these, to buy his friendship, shall be paid, + And join'd with these the long-contested maid; + With all her charms, Briseis I resign, + And solemn swear those charms were never mine; + Untouch'd she stay'd, uninjured she removes, + Pure from my arms, and guiltless of my loves,(202) + These instant shall be his; and if the powers + Give to our arms proud Ilion's hostile towers, + Then shall he store (when Greece the spoil divides) + With gold and brass his loaded navy's sides: + Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan race + With copious love shall crown his warm embrace, + Such as himself will choose; who yield to none, + Or yield to Helen's heavenly charms alone. + Yet hear me further: when our wars are o'er, + If safe we land on Argos' fruitful shore, + There shall he live my son, our honours share, + And with Orestes' self divide my care. + Yet more--three daughters in my court are bred, + And each well worthy of a royal bed; + Laodice and Iphigenia fair,(203) + And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair; + Her let him choose whom most his eyes approve, + I ask no presents, no reward for love: + Myself will give the dower; so vast a store + As never father gave a child before. + Seven ample cities shall confess his sway, + Him Enope, and Pherae him obey, + Cardamyle with ample turrets crown'd, + And sacred Pedasus for vines renown'd; + AEpea fair, the pastures Hira yields, + And rich Antheia with her flowery fields:(204) + The whole extent to Pylos' sandy plain, + Along the verdant margin of the main + There heifers graze, and labouring oxen toil; + Bold are the men, and generous is the soil; + There shall he reign, with power and justice crown'd, + And rule the tributary realms around. + All this I give, his vengeance to control, + And sure all this may move his mighty soul. + Pluto, the grisly god, who never spares, + Who feels no mercy, and who hears no prayers, + Lives dark and dreadful in deep hell's abodes, + And mortals hate him, as the worst of gods + Great though he be, it fits him to obey, + Since more than his my years, and more my sway." + + [Illustration: PLUTO.] + + PLUTO. + + + The monarch thus. The reverend Nestor then: + "Great Agamemnon! glorious king of men! + Such are thy offers as a prince may take, + And such as fits a generous king to make. + Let chosen delegates this hour be sent + (Myself will name them) to Pelides' tent. + Let Phoenix lead, revered for hoary age, + Great Ajax next, and Ithacus the sage. + Yet more to sanctify the word you send, + Let Hodius and Eurybates attend. + Now pray to Jove to grant what Greece demands; + Pray in deep silence,(205) and with purest hands."(206) + + [Illustration: THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES.] + + THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES. + + + He said; and all approved. The heralds bring + The cleansing water from the living spring. + The youth with wine the sacred goblets crown'd, + And large libations drench'd the sands around. + The rite perform'd, the chiefs their thirst allay, + Then from the royal tent they take their way; + Wise Nestor turns on each his careful eye, + Forbids to offend, instructs them to apply; + Much he advised them all, Ulysses most, + To deprecate the chief, and save the host. + Through the still night they march, and hear the roar + Of murmuring billows on the sounding shore. + To Neptune, ruler of the seas profound, + Whose liquid arms the mighty globe surround, + They pour forth vows, their embassy to bless, + And calm the rage of stern AEacides. + And now, arrived, where on the sandy bay + The Myrmidonian tents and vessels lay; + Amused at ease, the godlike man they found, + Pleased with the solemn harp's harmonious sound. + (The well wrought harp from conquered Thebae came; + Of polish'd silver was its costly frame.) + With this he soothes his angry soul, and sings + The immortal deeds of heroes and of kings. + Patroclus only of the royal train, + Placed in his tent, attends the lofty strain: + Full opposite he sat, and listen'd long, + In silence waiting till he ceased the song. + Unseen the Grecian embassy proceeds + To his high tent; the great Ulysses leads. + Achilles starting, as the chiefs he spied, + Leap'd from his seat, and laid the harp aside. + With like surprise arose Menoetius' son: + Pelides grasp'd their hands, and thus begun: + + "Princes, all hail! whatever brought you here. + Or strong necessity, or urgent fear; + Welcome, though Greeks! for not as foes ye came; + To me more dear than all that bear the name." + + With that, the chiefs beneath his roof he led, + And placed in seats with purple carpets spread. + Then thus--"Patroclus, crown a larger bowl, + Mix purer wine, and open every soul. + Of all the warriors yonder host can send, + Thy friend most honours these, and these thy friend." + + He said: Patroclus o'er the blazing fire + Heaps in a brazen vase three chines entire: + The brazen vase Automedon sustains, + Which flesh of porker, sheep, and goat contains. + Achilles at the genial feast presides, + The parts transfixes, and with skill divides. + Meanwhile Patroclus sweats, the fire to raise; + The tent is brighten'd with the rising blaze: + Then, when the languid flames at length subside, + He strows a bed of glowing embers wide, + Above the coals the smoking fragments turns + And sprinkles sacred salt from lifted urns; + With bread the glittering canisters they load, + Which round the board Menoetius' son bestow'd; + Himself, opposed to Ulysses full in sight, + Each portion parts, and orders every rite. + The first fat offering to the immortals due, + Amidst the greedy flames Patroclus threw; + Then each, indulging in the social feast, + His thirst and hunger soberly repress'd. + That done, to Phoenix Ajax gave the sign: + Not unperceived; Ulysses crown'd with wine + The foaming bowl, and instant thus began, + His speech addressing to the godlike man. + + "Health to Achilles! happy are thy guests! + Not those more honour'd whom Atrides feasts: + Though generous plenty crown thy loaded boards, + That, Agamemnon's regal tent affords; + But greater cares sit heavy on our souls, + Nor eased by banquets or by flowing bowls. + What scenes of slaughter in yon fields appear! + The dead we mourn, and for the living fear; + Greece on the brink of fate all doubtful stands, + And owns no help but from thy saving hands: + Troy and her aids for ready vengeance call; + Their threatening tents already shade our wall: + Hear how with shouts their conquest they proclaim, + And point at every ship their vengeful flame! + For them the father of the gods declares, + Theirs are his omens, and his thunder theirs. + See, full of Jove, avenging Hector rise! + See! heaven and earth the raging chief defies; + What fury in his breast, what lightning in his eyes! + He waits but for the morn, to sink in flame + The ships, the Greeks, and all the Grecian name. + Heavens! how my country's woes distract my mind, + Lest Fate accomplish all his rage design'd! + And must we, gods! our heads inglorious lay + In Trojan dust, and this the fatal day? + Return, Achilles: oh return, though late, + To save thy Greeks, and stop the course of Fate; + If in that heart or grief or courage lies, + Rise to redeem; ah, yet to conquer, rise! + The day may come, when, all our warriors slain, + That heart shall melt, that courage rise in vain: + Regard in time, O prince divinely brave! + Those wholesome counsels which thy father gave. + When Peleus in his aged arms embraced + His parting son, these accents were his last: + + "'My child! with strength, with glory, and success, + Thy arms may Juno and Minerva bless! + Trust that to Heaven: but thou, thy cares engage + To calm thy passions, and subdue thy rage: + From gentler manners let thy glory grow, + And shun contention, the sure source of woe; + That young and old may in thy praise combine, + The virtues of humanity be thine--' + This now-despised advice thy father gave; + Ah! check thy anger; and be truly brave. + If thou wilt yield to great Atrides' prayers, + Gifts worthy thee his royal hand prepares; + If not--but hear me, while I number o'er + The proffer'd presents, an exhaustless store. + Ten weighty talents of the purest gold, + And twice ten vases of refulgent mould; + Seven sacred tripods, whose unsullied frame + Yet knows no office, nor has felt the flame; + Twelve steeds unmatched in fleetness and in force, + And still victorious in the dusty course; + (Rich were the man, whose ample stores exceed + The prizes purchased by their winged speed;) + Seven lovely captives of the Lesbian line, + Skill'd in each art, unmatch'd in form divine, + The same he chose for more than vulgar charms, + When Lesbos sank beneath thy conquering arms. + All these, to buy thy friendship shall be paid, + And, join'd with these, the long-contested maid; + With all her charms, Briseis he'll resign, + And solemn swear those charms were only thine; + Untouch'd she stay'd, uninjured she removes, + Pure from his arms, and guiltless of his loves. + These instant shall be thine; and if the powers + Give to our arms proud Ilion's hostile towers, + Then shalt thou store (when Greece the spoil divides) + With gold and brass thy loaded navy's sides. + Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan race + With copious love shall crown thy warm embrace; + Such as thyself shall chose; who yield to none, + Or yield to Helen's heavenly charms alone. + Yet hear me further: when our wars are o'er, + If safe we land on Argos' fruitful shore, + There shalt thou live his son, his honour share, + And with Orestes' self divide his care. + Yet more--three daughters in his court are bred, + And each well worthy of a royal bed: + Laodice and Iphigenia fair, + And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair: + Her shalt thou wed whom most thy eyes approve; + He asks no presents, no reward for love: + Himself will give the dower; so vast a store + As never father gave a child before. + Seven ample cities shall confess thy sway, + The Enope and Pherae thee obey, + Cardamyle with ample turrets crown'd, + And sacred Pedasus, for vines renown'd: + AEpea fair, the pastures Hira yields, + And rich Antheia with her flowery fields; + The whole extent to Pylos' sandy plain, + Along the verdant margin of the main. + There heifers graze, and labouring oxen toil; + Bold are the men, and generous is the soil. + There shalt thou reign, with power and justice crown'd, + And rule the tributary realms around. + Such are the proffers which this day we bring, + Such the repentance of a suppliant king. + But if all this, relentless, thou disdain, + If honour and if interest plead in vain, + Yet some redress to suppliant Greece afford, + And be, amongst her guardian gods, adored. + If no regard thy suffering country claim, + Hear thy own glory, and the voice of fame: + For now that chief, whose unresisted ire + Made nations tremble, and whole hosts retire, + Proud Hector, now, the unequal fight demands, + And only triumphs to deserve thy hands." + + Then thus the goddess-born: "Ulysses, hear + A faithful speech, that knows nor art nor fear; + What in my secret soul is understood, + My tongue shall utter, and my deeds make good. + Let Greece then know, my purpose I retain: + Nor with new treaties vex my peace in vain. + Who dares think one thing, and another tell, + My heart detests him as the gates of hell. + + "Then thus in short my fix'd resolves attend, + Which nor Atrides nor his Greeks can bend; + Long toils, long perils in their cause I bore, + But now the unfruitful glories charm no more. + Fight or not fight, a like reward we claim, + The wretch and hero find their prize the same. + Alike regretted in the dust he lies, + Who yields ignobly, or who bravely dies. + Of all my dangers, all my glorious pains, + A life of labours, lo! what fruit remains? + As the bold bird her helpless young attends, + From danger guards them, and from want defends; + In search of prey she wings the spacious air, + And with the untasted food supplies her care: + For thankless Greece such hardships have I braved, + Her wives, her infants, by my labours saved; + Long sleepless nights in heavy arms I stood, + And sweat laborious days in dust and blood. + I sack'd twelve ample cities on the main,(207) + And twelve lay smoking on the Trojan plain: + Then at Atrides' haughty feet were laid + The wealth I gathered, and the spoils I made. + Your mighty monarch these in peace possess'd; + Some few my soldiers had, himself the rest. + Some present, too, to every prince was paid; + And every prince enjoys the gift he made: + I only must refund, of all his train; + See what pre-eminence our merits gain! + My spoil alone his greedy soul delights: + My spouse alone must bless his lustful nights: + The woman, let him (as he may) enjoy; + But what's the quarrel, then, of Greece to Troy? + What to these shores the assembled nations draws, + What calls for vengeance but a woman's cause? + Are fair endowments and a beauteous face + Beloved by none but those of Atreus' race? + The wife whom choice and passion doth approve, + Sure every wise and worthy man will love. + Nor did my fair one less distinction claim; + Slave as she was, my soul adored the dame. + Wrong'd in my love, all proffers I disdain; + Deceived for once, I trust not kings again. + Ye have my answer--what remains to do, + Your king, Ulysses, may consult with you. + What needs he the defence this arm can make? + Has he not walls no human force can shake? + Has he not fenced his guarded navy round + With piles, with ramparts, and a trench profound? + And will not these (the wonders he has done) + Repel the rage of Priam's single son? + There was a time ('twas when for Greece I fought) + When Hector's prowess no such wonders wrought; + He kept the verge of Troy, nor dared to wait + Achilles' fury at the Scaean gate; + He tried it once, and scarce was saved by fate. + But now those ancient enmities are o'er; + To-morrow we the favouring gods implore; + Then shall you see our parting vessels crown'd, + And hear with oars the Hellespont resound. + The third day hence shall Pthia greet our sails,(208) + If mighty Neptune send propitious gales; + Pthia to her Achilles shall restore + The wealth he left for this detested shore: + Thither the spoils of this long war shall pass, + The ruddy gold, the steel, and shining brass: + My beauteous captives thither I'll convey, + And all that rests of my unravish'd prey. + One only valued gift your tyrant gave, + And that resumed--the fair Lyrnessian slave. + Then tell him: loud, that all the Greeks may hear, + And learn to scorn the wretch they basely fear; + (For arm'd in impudence, mankind he braves, + And meditates new cheats on all his slaves; + Though shameless as he is, to face these eyes + Is what he dares not: if he dares he dies;) + Tell him, all terms, all commerce I decline, + Nor share his council, nor his battle join; + For once deceiv'd, was his; but twice were mine, + No--let the stupid prince, whom Jove deprives + Of sense and justice, run where frenzy drives; + His gifts are hateful: kings of such a kind + Stand but as slaves before a noble mind, + Not though he proffer'd all himself possess'd, + And all his rapine could from others wrest: + Not all the golden tides of wealth that crown + The many-peopled Orchomenian town;(209) + Not all proud Thebes' unrivall'd walls contain, + The world's great empress on the Egyptian plain + (That spreads her conquests o'er a thousand states, + And pours her heroes through a hundred gates, + Two hundred horsemen and two hundred cars + From each wide portal issuing to the wars);(210) + Though bribes were heap'd on bribes, in number more + Than dust in fields, or sands along the shore; + Should all these offers for my friendship call, + 'Tis he that offers, and I scorn them all. + Atrides' daughter never shall be led + (An ill-match'd consort) to Achilles' bed; + Like golden Venus though she charm'd the heart, + And vied with Pallas in the works of art; + Some greater Greek let those high nuptials grace, + I hate alliance with a tyrant's race. + If heaven restore me to my realms with life, + The reverend Peleus shall elect my wife; + Thessalian nymphs there are of form divine, + And kings that sue to mix their blood with mine. + Bless'd in kind love, my years shall glide away, + Content with just hereditary sway; + There, deaf for ever to the martial strife, + Enjoy the dear prerogative of life. + Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold. + Not all Apollo's Pythian treasures hold, + Or Troy once held, in peace and pride of sway, + Can bribe the poor possession of a day! + Lost herds and treasures we by arms regain, + And steeds unrivall'd on the dusty plain: + But from our lips the vital spirit fled, + Returns no more to wake the silent dead. + My fates long since by Thetis were disclosed, + And each alternate, life or fame, proposed; + Here, if I stay, before the Trojan town, + Short is my date, but deathless my renown: + If I return, I quit immortal praise + For years on years, and long-extended days. + Convinced, though late, I find my fond mistake, + And warn the Greeks the wiser choice to make; + To quit these shores, their native seats enjoy, + Nor hope the fall of heaven-defended Troy. + Jove's arm display'd asserts her from the skies! + Her hearts are strengthen'd, and her glories rise. + Go then to Greece, report our fix'd design; + Bid all your counsels, all your armies join, + Let all your forces, all your arts conspire, + To save the ships, the troops, the chiefs, from fire. + One stratagem has fail'd, and others will: + Ye find, Achilles is unconquer'd still. + Go then--digest my message as ye may-- + But here this night let reverend Phoenix stay: + His tedious toils and hoary hairs demand + A peaceful death in Pthia's friendly land. + But whether he remain or sail with me, + His age be sacred, and his will be free." + + [Illustration: GREEK GALLEY.] + + GREEK GALLEY. + + + The son of Peleus ceased: the chiefs around + In silence wrapt, in consternation drown'd, + Attend the stern reply. Then Phoenix rose; + (Down his white beard a stream of sorrow flows;) + And while the fate of suffering Greece he mourn'd, + With accent weak these tender words return'd. + + [Illustration: PROSERPINE.] + + PROSERPINE. + + + "Divine Achilles! wilt thou then retire, + And leave our hosts in blood, our fleets on fire? + If wrath so dreadful fill thy ruthless mind, + How shall thy friend, thy Phoenix, stay behind? + The royal Peleus, when from Pthia's coast + He sent thee early to the Achaian host; + Thy youth as then in sage debates unskill'd, + And new to perils of the direful field: + He bade me teach thee all the ways of war, + To shine in councils, and in camps to dare. + Never, ah, never let me leave thy side! + No time shall part us, and no fate divide, + Not though the god, that breathed my life, restore + The bloom I boasted, and the port I bore, + When Greece of old beheld my youthful flames + (Delightful Greece, the land of lovely dames), + My father faithless to my mother's arms, + Old as he was, adored a stranger's charms. + I tried what youth could do (at her desire) + To win the damsel, and prevent my sire. + My sire with curses loads my hated head, + And cries, 'Ye furies! barren be his bed.' + Infernal Jove, the vengeful fiends below, + And ruthless Proserpine, confirm'd his vow. + Despair and grief distract my labouring mind! + Gods! what a crime my impious heart design'd! + I thought (but some kind god that thought suppress'd) + To plunge the poniard in my father's breast; + Then meditate my flight: my friends in vain + With prayers entreat me, and with force detain. + On fat of rams, black bulls, and brawny swine, + They daily feast, with draughts of fragrant wine; + Strong guards they placed, and watch'd nine nights entire; + The roofs and porches flamed with constant fire. + The tenth, I forced the gates, unseen of all: + And, favour'd by the night, o'erleap'd the wall, + My travels thence through spacious Greece extend; + In Phthia's court at last my labours end. + Your sire received me, as his son caress'd, + With gifts enrich'd, and with possessions bless'd. + The strong Dolopians thenceforth own'd my reign, + And all the coast that runs along the main. + By love to thee his bounties I repaid, + And early wisdom to thy soul convey'd: + Great as thou art, my lessons made thee brave: + A child I took thee, but a hero gave. + Thy infant breast a like affection show'd; + Still in my arms (an ever-pleasing load) + Or at my knee, by Phoenix wouldst thou stand; + No food was grateful but from Phoenix' hand.(211) + I pass my watchings o'er thy helpless years, + The tender labours, the compliant cares, + The gods (I thought) reversed their hard decree, + And Phoenix felt a father's joys in thee: + Thy growing virtues justified my cares, + And promised comfort to my silver hairs. + Now be thy rage, thy fatal rage, resign'd; + A cruel heart ill suits a manly mind: + The gods (the only great, and only wise) + Are moved by offerings, vows, and sacrifice; + Offending man their high compassion wins, + And daily prayers atone for daily sins. + Prayers are Jove's daughters, of celestial race, + Lame are their feet, and wrinkled is their face; + With humble mien, and with dejected eyes, + Constant they follow, where injustice flies. + Injustice swift, erect, and unconfined, + Sweeps the wide earth, and tramples o'er mankind, + While Prayers, to heal her wrongs, move slow behind. + Who hears these daughters of almighty Jove, + For him they mediate to the throne above + When man rejects the humble suit they make, + The sire revenges for the daughters' sake; + From Jove commission'd, fierce injustice then + Descends to punish unrelenting men. + O let not headlong passion bear the sway + These reconciling goddesses obey + Due honours to the seed of Jove belong, + Due honours calm the fierce, and bend the strong. + Were these not paid thee by the terms we bring, + Were rage still harbour'd in the haughty king; + Nor Greece nor all her fortunes should engage + Thy friend to plead against so just a rage. + But since what honour asks the general sends, + And sends by those whom most thy heart commends; + The best and noblest of the Grecian train; + Permit not these to sue, and sue in vain! + Let me (my son) an ancient fact unfold, + A great example drawn from times of old; + Hear what our fathers were, and what their praise, + Who conquer'd their revenge in former days. + + "Where Calydon on rocky mountains stands(212) + Once fought the AEtolian and Curetian bands; + To guard it those; to conquer, these advance; + And mutual deaths were dealt with mutual chance. + The silver Cynthia bade contention rise, + In vengeance of neglected sacrifice; + On OEneus fields she sent a monstrous boar, + That levell'd harvests, and whole forests tore: + This beast (when many a chief his tusks had slain) + Great Meleager stretch'd along the plain, + Then, for his spoils, a new debate arose, + The neighbour nations thence commencing foes. + Strong as they were, the bold Curetes fail'd, + While Meleager's thundering arm prevail'd: + Till rage at length inflamed his lofty breast + (For rage invades the wisest and the best). + + "Cursed by Althaea, to his wrath he yields, + And in his wife's embrace forgets the fields. + (She from Marpessa sprung, divinely fair, + And matchless Idas, more than man in war: + The god of day adored the mother's charms; + Against the god the father bent his arms: + The afflicted pair, their sorrows to proclaim, + From Cleopatra changed their daughter's name, + And call'd Alcyone; a name to show + The father's grief, the mourning mother's woe.) + To her the chief retired from stern debate, + But found no peace from fierce Althaea's hate: + Althaea's hate the unhappy warrior drew, + Whose luckless hand his royal uncle slew; + She beat the ground, and call'd the powers beneath + On her own son to wreak her brother's death; + Hell heard her curses from the realms profound, + And the red fiends that walk the nightly round. + In vain AEtolia her deliverer waits, + War shakes her walls, and thunders at her gates. + She sent ambassadors, a chosen band, + Priests of the gods, and elders of the land; + Besought the chief to save the sinking state: + Their prayers were urgent, and their proffers great: + (Full fifty acres of the richest ground, + Half pasture green, and half with vineyards crown'd:) + His suppliant father, aged OEneus, came; + His sisters follow'd; even the vengeful dame, + Althaea, sues; his friends before him fall: + He stands relentless, and rejects them all. + Meanwhile the victor's shouts ascend the skies; + The walls are scaled; the rolling flames arise; + At length his wife (a form divine) appears, + With piercing cries, and supplicating tears; + She paints the horrors of a conquer'd town, + The heroes slain, the palaces o'erthrown, + The matrons ravish'd, the whole race enslaved: + The warrior heard, he vanquish'd, and he saved. + The AEtolians, long disdain'd, now took their turn, + And left the chief their broken faith to mourn. + Learn hence, betimes to curb pernicious ire, + Nor stay till yonder fleets ascend in fire; + Accept the presents; draw thy conquering sword; + And be amongst our guardian gods adored." + + Thus he: the stern Achilles thus replied: + "My second father, and my reverend guide: + Thy friend, believe me, no such gifts demands, + And asks no honours from a mortal's hands; + Jove honours me, and favours my designs; + His pleasure guides me, and his will confines; + And here I stay (if such his high behest) + While life's warm spirit beats within my breast. + Yet hear one word, and lodge it in thy heart: + No more molest me on Atrides' part: + Is it for him these tears are taught to flow, + For him these sorrows? for my mortal foe? + A generous friendship no cold medium knows, + Burns with one love, with one resentment glows; + One should our interests and our passions be; + My friend must hate the man that injures me. + Do this, my Phoenix, 'tis a generous part; + And share my realms, my honours, and my heart. + Let these return: our voyage, or our stay, + Rest undetermined till the dawning day." + + He ceased; then order'd for the sage's bed + A warmer couch with numerous carpets spread. + With that, stern Ajax his long silence broke, + And thus, impatient, to Ulysses spoke: + + "Hence let us go--why waste we time in vain? + See what effect our low submissions gain! + Liked or not liked, his words we must relate, + The Greeks expect them, and our heroes wait. + Proud as he is, that iron heart retains + Its stubborn purpose, and his friends disdains. + Stern and unpitying! if a brother bleed, + On just atonement, we remit the deed; + A sire the slaughter of his son forgives; + The price of blood discharged, the murderer lives: + The haughtiest hearts at length their rage resign, + And gifts can conquer every soul but thine.(213) + The gods that unrelenting breast have steel'd, + And cursed thee with a mind that cannot yield. + One woman-slave was ravish'd from thy arms: + Lo, seven are offer'd, and of equal charms. + Then hear, Achilles! be of better mind; + Revere thy roof, and to thy guests be kind; + And know the men of all the Grecian host, + Who honour worth, and prize thy valour most." + + "O soul of battles, and thy people's guide! + (To Ajax thus the first of Greeks replied) + Well hast thou spoke; but at the tyrant's name + My rage rekindles, and my soul's on flame: + 'Tis just resentment, and becomes the brave: + Disgraced, dishonour'd, like the vilest slave! + Return, then, heroes! and our answer bear, + The glorious combat is no more my care; + Not till, amidst yon sinking navy slain, + The blood of Greeks shall dye the sable main; + Not till the flames, by Hector's fury thrown, + Consume your vessels, and approach my own; + Just there, the impetuous homicide shall stand, + There cease his battle, and there feel our hand." + + This said, each prince a double goblet crown'd, + And cast a large libation on the ground; + Then to their vessels, through the gloomy shades, + The chiefs return; divine Ulysses leads. + Meantime Achilles' slaves prepared a bed, + With fleeces, carpets, and soft linen spread: + There, till the sacred morn restored the day, + In slumber sweet the reverend Phoenix lay. + But in his inner tent, an ampler space, + Achilles slept; and in his warm embrace + Fair Diomede of the Lesbian race. + Last, for Patroclus was the couch prepared, + Whose nightly joys the beauteous Iphis shared; + Achilles to his friend consign'd her charms + When Scyros fell before his conquering arms. + + And now the elected chiefs whom Greece had sent, + Pass'd through the hosts, and reach'd the royal tent. + Then rising all, with goblets in their hands, + The peers and leaders of the Achaian bands + Hail'd their return: Atrides first begun: + + "Say what success? divine Laertes' son! + Achilles' high resolves declare to all: + "Returns the chief, or must our navy fall?" + + "Great king of nations! (Ithacus replied) + Fix'd is his wrath, unconquer'd is his pride; + He slights thy friendship, thy proposals scorns, + And, thus implored, with fiercer fury burns. + To save our army, and our fleets to free, + Is not his care; but left to Greece and thee. + Your eyes shall view, when morning paints the sky, + Beneath his oars the whitening billows fly; + Us too he bids our oars and sails employ, + Nor hope the fall of heaven-protected Troy; + For Jove o'ershades her with his arm divine, + Inspires her war, and bids her glory shine. + Such was his word: what further he declared, + These sacred heralds and great Ajax heard. + But Phoenix in his tent the chief retains, + Safe to transport him to his native plains + When morning dawns; if other he decree, + His age is sacred, and his choice is free." + + Ulysses ceased: the great Achaian host, + With sorrow seized, in consternation lost, + Attend the stern reply. Tydides broke + The general silence, and undaunted spoke. + "Why should we gifts to proud Achilles send, + Or strive with prayers his haughty soul to bend? + His country's woes he glories to deride, + And prayers will burst that swelling heart with pride. + Be the fierce impulse of his rage obey'd, + Our battles let him or desert or aid; + Then let him arm when Jove or he think fit: + That, to his madness, or to Heaven commit: + What for ourselves we can, is always ours; + This night, let due repast refresh our powers; + (For strength consists in spirits and in blood, + And those are owed to generous wine and food;) + But when the rosy messenger of day + Strikes the blue mountains with her golden ray, + Ranged at the ships, let all our squadrons shine + In flaming arms, a long-extended line: + In the dread front let great Atrides stand, + The first in danger, as in high command." + + Shouts of acclaim the listening heroes raise, + Then each to Heaven the due libations pays; + Till sleep, descending o'er the tents, bestows + The grateful blessings of desired repose."(214) + + [Illustration: ACHILLES.] + + ACHILLES. + + + + + +BOOK X. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE NIGHT-ADVENTURE OF DIOMED AND ULYSSES. + +Upon the refusal of Achilles to return to the army, the distress of +Agamemnon is described in the most lively manner. He takes no rest that +night, but passes through the camp, awaking the leaders, and contriving +all possible methods for the public safety. Menelaus, Nestor, Ulysses, and +Diomed are employed in raising the rest of the captains. They call a +council of war, and determine to send scouts into the enemies' camp, to +learn their posture, and discover their intentions. Diomed undertakes this +hazardous enterprise, and makes choice of Ulysses for his companion. In +their passage they surprise Dolon, whom Hector had sent on a like design +to the camp of the Grecians. From him they are informed of the situation +of the Trojan and auxiliary forces, and particularly of Rhesus, and the +Thracians who were lately arrived. They pass on with success; kill Rhesus, +with several of his officers, and seize the famous horses of that prince, +with which they return in triumph to the camp. + +The same night continues; the scene lies in the two camps. + + 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,(215) + His country's cares lay rolling in his breast. + As when by lightnings Jove's ethereal power + Foretels 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 heaven flames thick with momentary fires: + So bursting frequent from Atrides' breast, + Sighs following 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, + And marks distinct the voices of the foe. + Now looking backwards to the fleet and coast, + Anxious he sorrows for the endangered host. + He rends his hair, in sacrifice to Jove, + And sues to him that ever lives above: + Inly he groans; while glory and despair + Divide his heart, and wage a double war. + + A thousand cares his labouring breast revolves; + To seek sage Nestor now the chief resolves, + With him, in wholesome counsels, to debate + What yet remains to save the 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 javelin held. + Meanwhile his brother, press'd with equal woes, + Alike denied the gifts 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: + A brazen helmet glitter'd on his head: + Thus (with a javelin 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. + Joyful they met; the Spartan thus begun: + "Why puts my brother his 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 that task? + Such bold exploits uncommon courage ask; + Guideless, alone, through 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 counsel our affairs demand; + 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 believed, + In one great day, by one great arm achieved, + Such wondrous deeds as Hector's hand has done, + And we beheld, the last revolving sun + What honours the beloved of Jove adorn! + Sprung from no god, and of no goddess born; + 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; + 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?" + "There shall 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. + 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 several cares: + 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; + 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 raised his eyes and said: + + "What art thou, speak, that on designs unknown, + 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! + Lo, here the wretched Agamemnon stands, + The unhappy general 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, + 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. + If aught of use thy waking thoughts 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, + 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: + How ill agree the views of vain mankind, + And the wise counsels of the eternal mind! + Audacious Hector, if the gods ordain + That great Achilles rise and rage again, + What toils attend thee, and what woes remain! + Lo, faithful Nestor thy command obeys; + The care is next our other chiefs to raise: + Ulysses, Diomed, we chiefly need; + Meges for strength, Oileus famed for speed. + Some other be despatch'd of nimbler feet, + To those tall ships, remotest of the fleet, + Where lie great Ajax and the king of Crete.(216) + 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 + With his great brother in his martial care: + Him it behoved to every chief to sue, + Preventing every part perform'd by you; + For strong necessity our toils demands, + Claims all our hearts, and urges all our hands." + + To whom the king: "With reverence we allow + Thy just rebukes, yet learn to spare them now: + My generous brother is of gentle kind, + He seems remiss, but bears a valiant mind; + Through too much deference to our sovereign sway, + 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 near the navy-wall; + 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; + The shining greaves his manly legs enclose; + His purple mantle golden buckles join'd, + Warm with the softest wool, and doubly lined. + Then rushing from his tent, he snatch'd in haste + His steely lance, that lighten'd as he pass'd. + The camp he traversed through 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, + Thus leads you wandering in the silent night?" + "O prudent chief! (the Pylian sage replied) + Wise as thou art, be now thy wisdom tried: + Whatever means of safety can be sought, + Whatever counsels can inspire our thought, + 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 through the field. + Without his tent, bold Diomed they found, + All sheathed 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 quivering light. + 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 slumbering chief, and in these words awakes: + + "Rise, son of Tydeus! to the brave and strong + 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: + "Wondrous old man! whose soul no respite knows, + Though 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 answered,) generous is thy care; + These toils, my subjects and my sons might bear; + Their loyal thoughts and pious love conspire + To ease a sovereign and relieve a sire: + But now the last despair surrounds our host; + No hour must pass, no moment must be lost; + 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; + He serves me most, who serves his country best." + + This said, the hero o'er his shoulders flung + A lion's spoils, that to his ankles hung; + Then seized his ponderous lance, and strode along. + Meges the bold, with Ajax famed for speed, + The warrior roused, and to the entrenchments lead. + + And now the chiefs approach the nightly guard; + A wakeful squadron, each in arms prepared: + The unwearied watch their listening leaders keep, + And, couching close, repel invading sleep. + 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 toward the guarded fold: + Through breaking woods her rustling course they hear; + Loud, and more loud, the clamours strike their ear + Of hounds and men: they start, they gaze around, + Watch every side, and turn to every sound. + Thus watch'd the Grecians, cautious of surprise, + Each voice, each motion, drew their ears and eyes: + Each step of passing feet increased the affright; + And hostile Troy was ever full in sight. + Nestor with joy the wakeful band survey'd, + And thus accosted through the gloomy shade. + "'Tis well, my sons! your nightly cares employ; + Else must our host become the scorn of Troy. + Watch thus, and Greece shall live." The hero said; + Then o'er the trench the following chieftains led. + His son, and godlike Merion, march'd behind + (For these the princes to their council join'd). + The trenches pass'd, the assembled kings around + In silent state the consistory crown'd. + A place there was, yet undefiled with gore, + The spot where Hector stopp'd his rage before; + When night descending, from his vengeful hand + Reprieved 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: + + "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 the night approach so near, + 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; + What fame were his through all succeeding days, + While Phoebus shines, or men have tongues to praise! + What gifts his grateful country would bestow! + What must not Greece to her deliverer owe? + A sable ewe each leader should provide, + With each a sable lambkin by her side; + At every rite his share should be increased, + And his the foremost honours of the feast." + + Fear held them mute: alone, untaught to fear, + Tydides spoke--"The man you seek is here. + Through 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, + Great deeds are done, and great discoveries made; + The wise new prudence from the wise acquire, + And one brave hero fans another's fire." + + Contending leaders at the word arose; + Each generous breast with emulation glows; + 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 thus the king of men the contest ends: + "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; + 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 + 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 through flames of fire." + + "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, + The reddening orient shows the coming day, + The stars shine fainter on the ethereal plains, + And of night's empire but a third remains." + + Thus having spoke, with generous ardour press'd, + In arms terrific their huge limbs they dress'd. + 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:) + No spoils enrich it, and no studs adorn. + Next him Ulysses took a shining sword, + A bow and quiver, with bright arrows stored: + A well-proved casque, with leather braces bound, + (Thy gift, Meriones,) his temples crown'd; + Soft wool within; without, in order spread,(217) + 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 + Molus received, the pledge of social ties; + The helmet next by Merion was possess'd, + And now Ulysses' thoughtful temples press'd. + Thus sheathed in arms, the council they forsake, + And dark through paths oblique their progress take. + Just then, in sign she favour'd their intent, + A long-wing'd heron great Minerva sent: + This, though surrounding shades obscured their view. + By the shrill clang and whistling wings they knew. + As from the right she soar'd, Ulysses pray'd, + Hail'd the glad omen, and address'd the maid: + + "O daughter of that god whose arm can wield + The avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield! + O thou! for ever present in my way, + Who all my motions, all my toils survey! + 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: + "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 AEsopus' banks the banded powers + Of Greece he left, and sought the Theban towers, + Peace was his charge; received 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! + 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." + The heroes pray'd, and Pallas from the skies + Accords their vow, succeeds their enterprise. + Now, like two lions panting for the prey, + With dreadful thoughts they trace the dreary way, + Through the black horrors of the ensanguined plain, + Through dust, through blood, o'er arms, and hills of slain. + + Nor less bold Hector, and the sons of Troy, + On high designs the wakeful hours employ; + The assembled peers their lofty chief enclosed; + Who thus the counsels of his breast proposed: + + "What glorious man, for high attempts prepared, + Dares greatly venture for a rich reward? + Of yonder fleet a bold discovery make, + What watch they keep, and what resolves they take? + If now subdued they meditate their flight, + 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 served so well." + + A youth there was among the tribes of Troy, + Dolon his name, Eumedes' only boy, + (Five girls beside the reverend herald told.) + Rich was the son in brass, and rich in gold; + Not bless'd by nature with the charms of face, + 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; + The immortal coursers, and the glittering car, + That bear Pelides through the ranks of war. + Encouraged thus, no idle scout I go, + Fulfil thy wish, their whole intention know, + Even to the royal tent pursue my way, + And all their counsels, all their aims betray." + + The chief then heaved the golden sceptre high, + Attesting thus the monarch of the sky: + "Be witness thou! immortal lord of all! + Whose thunder shakes the dark aerial hall: + By none but Dolon shall this prize be borne, + And him alone the 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, + A wolf's grey hide around his shoulders hung, + A ferret's downy fur his helmet lined, + And in his hand a pointed javelin shined. + Then (never to return) he sought the shore, + And trod the path his feet must tread no more. + Scarce had he pass'd the steeds and Trojan throng, + (Still bending forward as he coursed along,) + When, on the hollow way, the approaching tread + Ulysses mark'd, and thus to Diomed; + + "O friend! I hear some step of hostile feet, + Moving this way, or hastening 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. + 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, + (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, + (To whom the hind like shares of land allows,) + When now new furrows part the approaching ploughs. + Now Dolon, listening, heard them as they pass'd; + Hector (he thought) had sent, and check'd his haste, + Till scarce at distance of a javelin's throw, + No voice succeeding, he perceived the foe. + As when two skilful hounds the leveret wind; + Or chase through woods obscure the trembling hind; + Now lost, now seen, they intercept his way, + And from the herd still turn the flying prey: + 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 + (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 javelin else shall fix thee to the plain." + 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 seized his turning head; + 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: + 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, + To roam the silent fields in dead of night? + Cam'st thou the secrets of our camp to find, + By Hector prompted, or thy daring mind? + Or art some wretch by hopes of plunder led, + Through heaps of carnage, to despoil the dead?" + + Then thus pale Dolon, with a fearful look: + (Still, as he spoke, his limbs with horror shook:) + "Hither I came, by Hector's words deceived; + Much did he promise, rashly I believed: + No less a bribe than great Achilles' car, + 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." + + "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; + Even great Achilles scarce their rage can tame, + 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: + 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. + 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; + Safe in their cares, the auxiliar forces sleep, + Whose wives and infants, from the danger far, + Discharge their souls of half the fears of war." + + "Then sleep those aids among the Trojan train, + (Inquired the chief,) or scattered o'er the plain?" + To whom the spy: "Their powers they thus dispose + The Paeons, 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 + The Lycian, Mysian, and Maeonian band, + And Phrygia's horse, by Thymbras' ancient wall; + The Thracians utmost, and apart from all. + These Troy but lately to her succour won, + Led on by Rhesus, great Eioneus' son: + 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, + 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." + + To this Tydides, with a gloomy frown: + "Think not to live, though all the truth be shown: + 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? + 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; + 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, the unbended bow and spear; + These great Ulysses lifting to the skies, + To favouring 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 heavenly host, we praise; + O speed our labours, and direct our ways!" + This said, the spoils, with dropping gore defaced, + High on a spreading tamarisk he placed; + Then heap'd with reeds and gathered boughs the plain, + To guide their footsteps to the place again. + + Through the still night they cross the devious fields, + Slippery 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. + Their arms in order on the ground reclined, + Through 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, + 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; + 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 + His thirsty falchion, fat with hostile blood, + Bathed all his footsteps, dyed the fields with gore, + And a low groan remurmur'd through the shore. + So the grim lion, from his nightly den, + O'erleaps the fences, and invades the pen, + On sheep or goats, resistless in his way, + He falls, and foaming rends the guardless prey; + Nor stopp'd the fury of his vengeful hand, + Till twelve lay breathless of the Thracian band. + Ulysses following, as his partner slew, + Back by the foot each slaughter'd warrior drew; + The milk-white coursers studious to convey + Safe to the ships, he wisely cleared the way: + Lest the fierce steeds, not yet to battles bred, + Should start, and tremble at the heaps of dead. + Now twelve despatch'd, the monarch last they found; + Tydides' falchion fix'd him to the ground. + Just then a deathful dream Minerva sent, + A warlike form appear'd before his tent, + Whose visionary steel his bosom tore: + So dream'd the monarch, and awaked no more.(218) + + 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;) + 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 the infernal shade, + Drag off the car where Rhesus' armour lay, + Or heave with manly force, and lift away. + While unresolved the son of Tydeus stands, + Pallas appears, and thus her chief commands: + + "Enough, my son; from further slaughter cease, + Regard thy safety, and depart in peace; + 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, + Swift as the wind, and white as winter-snow. + + Not unobserved they pass'd: the god of light + Had watch'd his Troy, and mark'd Minerva's flight, + Saw Tydeus' son with heavenly succour bless'd, + And vengeful anger fill'd his sacred breast. + Swift to the Trojan camp descends the power, + And wakes Hippocoon 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, + 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 gathering tumult spreads o'er all the plain; + On heaps the Trojans rush, with wild affright, + And wondering view the slaughters 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 + The trophy, dropping yet with Dolon's gore: + Then mounts again; again their nimbler feet + The coursers ply, and thunder towards the fleet. + + [Illustration: DIOMED AND ULYSSES RETURNING WITH THE SPOILS OF RHESUS.] + + DIOMED AND ULYSSES RETURNING WITH THE SPOILS OF RHESUS. + + + Old Nestor first perceived the approaching sound, + Bespeaking thus the Grecian peers around: + "Methinks the noise of trampling steeds I hear, + Thickening this way, and gathering on my ear; + Perhaps some horses of the Trojan breed + (So may, ye gods! my pious hopes succeed) + The great Tydides and Ulysses bear, + 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, even now pursued, they seek the shore; + Or, oh! perhaps those heroes are no more." + + 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, + 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. + 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 through the ranks of fight. + Some god, I deem, conferred the glorious prize, + Bless'd as ye are, and favourites 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 heaven are of a nobler kind. + 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, + 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. + 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 generous wheat. + But Dolon's armour, to his ships convey'd, + 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 polished bath, refresh'd from toil, + Their joints they supple with dissolving 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. + + + + + +BOOK XI. + + +ARGUMENT + +THE THIRD BATTLE, AND THE ACTS OF AGAMEMNON. + +Agamemnon, having armed himself, leads the Grecians to battle; Hector +prepares the Trojans to receive them, while Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva +give the signals of war. Agamemnon bears all before him and Hector is +commanded by Jupiter (who sends Iris for that purpose) to decline the +engagement, till the king shall be wounded and retire from the field. He +then makes a great slaughter of the enemy. Ulysses and Diomed put a stop +to him for a time but the latter, being wounded by Paris, is obliged to +desert his companion, who is encompassed by the Trojans, wounded, and in +the utmost danger, till Menelaus and Ajax rescue him. Hector comes against +Ajax, but that hero alone opposes multitudes, and rallies the Greeks. In +the meantime Machaon, in the other wing of the army, is pierced with an +arrow by Paris, and carried from the fight in Nestor's chariot. Achilles +(who overlooked the action from his ship) sent Patroclus to inquire which +of the Greeks was wounded in that manner; Nestor entertains him in his +tent with an account of the accidents of the day, and a long recital of +some former wars which he remembered, tending to put Patroclus upon +persuading Achilles to fight for his countrymen, or at least to permit him +to do it, clad in Achilles' armour. Patroclus, on his return, meets +Eurypylus also wounded, and assists him in that distress. + +This book opens with the eight and-twentieth day of the poem, and the same +day, with its various actions and adventures is extended through the +twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, and +part of the eighteenth books. The scene lies in the field near the +monument of Ilus. + + The saffron morn, with early blushes spread,(219) + Now rose refulgent from Tithonus' bed; + With new-born day to gladden mortal sight, + And gild the courts of heaven with sacred light: + When baleful Eris, sent by Jove's command, + The torch of discord blazing in her hand, + Through the red skies her bloody sign extends, + And, wrapt in tempests, o'er the fleet descends. + High on Ulysses' bark her horrid stand + She took, and thunder'd through the seas and land. + + Even Ajax and Achilles heard the sound, + Whose ships, remote, the guarded navy bound, + Thence the black fury through the Grecian throng + With horror sounds the loud Orthian song: + The navy shakes, and at the dire alarms + Each bosom boils, each warrior starts to arms. + No more they sigh, inglorious to return, + But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn. + + [Illustration: THE DESCENT OF DISCORD.] + + THE DESCENT OF DISCORD. + + + The king of men his hardy host inspires + With loud command, with great example fires! + Himself first rose, himself before the rest + His mighty limbs in radiant armour dress'd, + And first he cased his manly legs around + In shining greaves with silver buckles bound; + The beaming cuirass next adorn'd his breast, + The same which once king Cinyras possess'd: + (The fame of Greece and her assembled host + Had reach'd that monarch on the Cyprian coast; + 'Twas then, the friendship of the chief to gain, + This glorious gift he sent, nor sent in vain:) + Ten rows of azure steel the work infold, + Twice ten of tin, and twelve of ductile gold; + Three glittering dragons to the gorget rise, + Whose imitated scales against the skies + Reflected various light, and arching bow'd, + Like colour'd rainbows o'er a showery cloud + (Jove's wondrous bow, of three celestial dies, + Placed as a sign to man amidst the skies). + A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder tied, + Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side: + Gold was the hilt, a silver sheath encased + The shining blade, and golden hangers graced. + His buckler's mighty orb was next display'd, + That round the warrior cast a dreadful shade; + Ten zones of brass its ample brim surround, + And twice ten bosses the bright convex crown'd: + Tremendous Gorgon frown'd upon its field, + And circling terrors fill'd the expressive shield: + Within its concave hung a silver thong, + On which a mimic serpent creeps along, + His azure length in easy waves extends, + Till in three heads the embroider'd monster ends. + Last o'er his brows his fourfold helm he placed, + With nodding horse-hair formidably graced; + And in his hands two steely javelins wields, + That blaze to heaven, and lighten all the fields. + + That instant Juno, and the martial maid, + In happy thunders promised Greece their aid; + High o'er the chief they clash'd their arms in air, + And, leaning from the clouds, expect the war. + + Close to the limits of the trench and mound, + The fiery coursers to their chariots bound + The squires restrain'd: the foot, with those who wield + The lighter arms, rush forward to the field. + To second these, in close array combined, + The squadrons spread their sable wings behind. + Now shouts and tumults wake the tardy sun, + As with the light the warriors' toils begun. + Even Jove, whose thunder spoke his wrath, distill'd + Red drops of blood o'er all the fatal field;(220) + The woes of men unwilling to survey, + And all the slaughters that must stain the day. + + Near Ilus' tomb, in order ranged around, + The Trojan lines possess'd the rising ground: + There wise Polydamas and Hector stood; + AEneas, honour'd as a guardian god; + Bold Polybus, Agenor the divine; + The brother-warriors of Antenor's line: + With youthful Acamas, whose beauteous face + And fair proportion match'd the ethereal race. + Great Hector, cover'd with his spacious shield, + Plies all the troops, and orders all the field. + As the red star now shows his sanguine fires + Through the dark clouds, and now in night retires, + Thus through the ranks appear'd the godlike man, + Plunged in the rear, or blazing in the van; + While streamy sparkles, restless as he flies, + Flash from his arms, as lightning from the skies. + As sweating reapers in some wealthy field, + Ranged in two bands, their crooked weapons wield, + Bear down the furrows, till their labours meet; + Thick fall the heapy harvests at their feet: + So Greece and Troy the field of war divide, + And falling ranks are strow'd on every side. + None stoop'd a thought to base inglorious flight;(221) + But horse to horse, and man to man they fight, + Not rabid wolves more fierce contest their prey; + Each wounds, each bleeds, but none resign the day. + Discord with joy the scene of death descries, + And drinks large slaughter at her sanguine eyes: + Discord alone, of all the immortal train, + Swells the red horrors of this direful plain: + The gods in peace their golden mansions fill, + Ranged in bright order on the Olympian hill: + But general murmurs told their griefs above, + And each accused the partial will of Jove. + Meanwhile apart, superior, and alone, + The eternal Monarch, on his awful throne, + Wrapt in the blaze of boundless glory sate; + And fix'd, fulfill'd the just decrees of fate. + On earth he turn'd his all-considering eyes, + And mark'd the spot where Ilion's towers arise; + The sea with ships, the fields with armies spread, + The victor's rage, the dying, and the dead. + + Thus while the morning-beams, increasing bright, + O'er heaven's pure azure spread the glowing light, + Commutual death the fate of war confounds, + Each adverse battle gored with equal wounds. + But now (what time in some sequester'd vale + The weary woodman spreads his sparing meal, + When his tired arms refuse the axe to rear, + And claim a respite from the sylvan war; + But not till half the prostrate forests lay + Stretch'd in long ruin, and exposed to day) + Then, nor till then, the Greeks' impulsive might + Pierced the black phalanx, and let in the light. + Great Agamemnon then the slaughter led, + And slew Bienor at his people's head: + Whose squire Oileus, with a sudden spring, + Leap'd from the chariot to revenge his king; + But in his front he felt the fatal wound, + Which pierced his brain, and stretch'd him on the ground. + Atrides spoil'd, and left them on the plain: + Vain was their youth, their glittering armour vain: + Now soil'd with dust, and naked to the sky, + Their snowy limbs and beauteous bodies lie. + + Two sons of Priam next to battle move, + The product, one of marriage, one of love:(222) + In the same car the brother-warriors ride; + This took the charge to combat, that to guide: + Far other task, than when they wont to keep, + On Ida's tops, their father's fleecy sheep. + These on the mountains once Achilles found, + And captive led, with pliant osiers bound; + Then to their sire for ample sums restored; + But now to perish by Atrides' sword: + Pierced in the breast the base-born Isus bleeds: + Cleft through the head his brother's fate succeeds, + Swift to the spoil the hasty victor falls, + And, stript, their features to his mind recalls. + The Trojans see the youths untimely die, + But helpless tremble for themselves, and fly. + So when a lion ranging o'er the lawns. + Finds, on some grassy lair, the couching fawns, + Their bones he cracks, their reeking vitals draws, + And grinds the quivering flesh with bloody jaws; + The frighted hind beholds, and dares not stay, + But swift through rustling thickets bursts her way; + All drown'd in sweat, the panting mother flies, + And the big tears roll trickling from her eyes. + + Amidst the tumult of the routed train, + The sons of false Antimachus were slain; + He who for bribes his faithless counsels sold, + And voted Helen's stay for Paris' gold. + Atrides mark'd, as these their safety sought, + And slew the children for the father's fault; + Their headstrong horse unable to restrain, + They shook with fear, and dropp'd the silken rein; + Then in the chariot on their knees they fall, + And thus with lifted hands for mercy call: + + "O spare our youth, and for the life we owe, + Antimachus shall copious gifts bestow: + Soon as he hears, that, not in battle slain, + The Grecian ships his captive sons detain, + Large heaps of brass in ransom shall be told, + And steel well-tempered, and persuasive gold." + + These words, attended with the flood of tears, + The youths address'd to unrelenting ears: + The vengeful monarch gave this stern reply: + "If from Antimachus ye spring, ye die; + The daring wretch who once in council stood + To shed Ulysses' and my brother's blood, + For proffer'd peace! and sues his seed for grace? + No, die, and pay the forfeit of your race." + + This said, Pisander from the car he cast, + And pierced his breast: supine he breathed his last. + His brother leap'd to earth; but, as he lay, + The trenchant falchion lopp'd his hands away; + His sever'd head was toss'd among the throng, + And, rolling, drew a bloody train along. + Then, where the thickest fought, the victor flew; + The king's example all his Greeks pursue. + Now by the foot the flying foot were slain, + Horse trod by horse, lay foaming on the plain. + From the dry fields thick clouds of dust arise, + Shade the black host, and intercept the skies. + The brass-hoof'd steeds tumultuous plunge and bound, + And the thick thunder beats the labouring ground, + Still slaughtering on, the king of men proceeds; + The distanced army wonders at his deeds, + As when the winds with raging flames conspire, + And o'er the forests roll the flood of fire, + In blazing heaps the grove's old honours fall, + And one refulgent ruin levels all: + Before Atrides' rage so sinks the foe, + Whole squadrons vanish, and proud heads lie low. + The steeds fly trembling from his waving sword, + And many a car, now lighted of its lord, + Wide o'er the field with guideless fury rolls, + Breaking their ranks, and crushing out their souls; + While his keen falchion drinks the warriors' lives; + More grateful, now, to vultures than their wives! + + Perhaps great Hector then had found his fate, + But Jove and destiny prolong'd his date. + Safe from the darts, the care of heaven he stood, + Amidst alarms, and death, and dust, and blood. + + Now past the tomb where ancient Ilus lay, + Through the mid field the routed urge their way: + Where the wild figs the adjoining summit crown, + The path they take, and speed to reach the town. + As swift, Atrides with loud shouts pursued, + Hot with his toil, and bathed in hostile blood. + Now near the beech-tree, and the Scaean gates, + The hero halts, and his associates waits. + Meanwhile on every side around the plain, + Dispersed, disorder'd, fly the Trojan train. + So flies a herd of beeves, that hear dismay'd + The lion's roaring through the midnight shade; + On heaps they tumble with successless haste; + The savage seizes, draws, and rends the last. + Not with less fury stem Atrides flew, + Still press'd the rout, and still the hindmost slew; + Hurl'd from their cars the bravest chiefs are kill'd, + And rage, and death, and carnage load the field. + + Now storms the victor at the Trojan wall; + Surveys the towers, and meditates their fall. + But Jove descending shook the Idaean hills, + And down their summits pour'd a hundred rills: + The unkindled lightning in his hand he took, + And thus the many-coloured maid bespoke: + + "Iris, with haste thy golden wings display, + To godlike Hector this our word convey-- + While Agamemnon wastes the ranks around, + Fights in the front, and bathes with blood the ground, + Bid him give way; but issue forth commands, + And trust the war to less important hands: + But when, or wounded by the spear or dart, + That chief shall mount his chariot, and depart, + Then Jove shall string his arm, and fire his breast, + Then to her ships shall flying Greece be press'd, + Till to the main the burning sun descend, + And sacred night her awful shade extend." + + He spoke, and Iris at his word obey'd; + On wings of winds descends the various maid. + The chief she found amidst the ranks of war, + Close to the bulwarks, on his glittering car. + The goddess then: "O son of Priam, hear! + From Jove I come, and his high mandate bear. + While Agamemnon wastes the ranks around, + Fights in the front, and bathes with blood the ground, + Abstain from fight; yet issue forth commands, + And trust the war to less important hands: + But when, or wounded by the spear or dart, + The chief shall mount his chariot, and depart, + Then Jove shall string thy arm, and fire thy breast, + Then to her ships shall flying Greece be press'd, + Till to the main the burning sun descend, + And sacred night her awful shade extend." + + She said, and vanish'd. Hector, with a bound, + Springs from his chariot on the trembling ground, + In clanging arms: he grasps in either hand + A pointed lance, and speeds from band to band; + Revives their ardour, turns their steps from flight, + And wakes anew the dying flames of fight. + They stand to arms: the Greeks their onset dare, + Condense their powers, and wait the coming war. + New force, new spirit, to each breast returns; + The fight renew'd with fiercer fury burns: + The king leads on: all fix on him their eye, + And learn from him to conquer, or to die. + + Ye sacred nine! celestial Muses! tell, + Who faced him first, and by his prowess fell? + The great Iphidamas, the bold and young, + From sage Antenor and Theano sprung; + Whom from his youth his grandsire Cisseus bred, + And nursed in Thrace where snowy flocks are fed. + Scarce did the down his rosy cheeks invest, + And early honour warm his generous breast, + When the kind sire consign'd his daughter's charms + (Theano's sister) to his youthful arms. + But call'd by glory to the wars of Troy, + He leaves untasted the first fruits of joy; + From his loved bride departs with melting eyes, + And swift to aid his dearer country flies. + With twelve black ships he reach'd Percope's strand, + Thence took the long laborious march by land. + Now fierce for fame, before the ranks he springs, + Towering in arms, and braves the king of kings. + Atrides first discharged the missive spear; + The Trojan stoop'd, the javelin pass'd in air. + Then near the corslet, at the monarch's heart, + With all his strength, the youth directs his dart: + But the broad belt, with plates of silver bound, + The point rebated, and repell'd the wound. + Encumber'd with the dart, Atrides stands, + Till, grasp'd with force, he wrench'd it from his hands; + At once his weighty sword discharged a wound + Full on his neck, that fell'd him to the ground. + Stretch'd in the dust the unhappy warrior lies, + And sleep eternal seals his swimming eyes. + Oh worthy better fate! oh early slain! + Thy country's friend; and virtuous, though in vain! + No more the youth shall join his consort's side, + At once a virgin, and at once a bride! + No more with presents her embraces meet, + Or lay the spoils of conquest at her feet, + On whom his passion, lavish of his store, + Bestow'd so much, and vainly promised more! + Unwept, uncover'd, on the plain he lay, + While the proud victor bore his arms away. + + Coon, Antenor's eldest hope, was nigh: + Tears, at the sight, came starting from his eye, + While pierced with grief the much-loved youth he view'd, + And the pale features now deform'd with blood. + Then, with his spear, unseen, his time he took, + Aim'd at the king, and near his elbow strook. + The thrilling steel transpierced the brawny part, + And through his arm stood forth the barbed dart. + Surprised the monarch feels, yet void of fear + On Coon rushes with his lifted spear: + His brother's corpse the pious Trojan draws, + And calls his country to assert his cause; + Defends him breathless on the sanguine field, + And o'er the body spreads his ample shield. + Atrides, marking an unguarded part, + Transfix'd the warrior with his brazen dart; + Prone on his brother's bleeding breast he lay, + The monarch's falchion lopp'd his head away: + The social shades the same dark journey go, + And join each other in the realms below. + + The vengeful victor rages round the fields, + With every weapon art or fury yields: + By the long lance, the sword, or ponderous stone, + Whole ranks are broken, and whole troops o'erthrown. + This, while yet warm distill'd the purple flood; + But when the wound grew stiff with clotted blood, + Then grinding tortures his strong bosom rend, + Less keen those darts the fierce Ilythiae send: + (The powers that cause the teeming matron's throes, + Sad mothers of unutterable woes!) + Stung with the smart, all-panting with the pain, + He mounts the car, and gives his squire the rein; + Then with a voice which fury made more strong, + And pain augmented, thus exhorts the throng: + + "O friends! O Greeks! assert your honours won; + Proceed, and finish what this arm begun: + Lo! angry Jove forbids your chief to stay, + And envies half the glories of the day." + + He said: the driver whirls his lengthful thong; + The horses fly; the chariot smokes along. + Clouds from their nostrils the fierce coursers blow, + And from their sides the foam descends in snow; + Shot through the battle in a moment's space, + The wounded monarch at his tent they place. + + No sooner Hector saw the king retired, + But thus his Trojans and his aids he fired: + "Hear, all ye Dardan, all ye Lycian race! + Famed in close fight, and dreadful face to face: + Now call to mind your ancient trophies won, + Your great forefathers' virtues, and your own. + Behold, the general flies! deserts his powers! + Lo, Jove himself declares the conquest ours! + Now on yon ranks impel your foaming steeds; + And, sure of glory, dare immortal deeds." + + Writh words like these the fiery chief alarms + His fainting host, and every bosom warms. + As the bold hunter cheers his hounds to tear + The brindled lion, or the tusky bear: + With voice and hand provokes their doubting heart, + And springs the foremost with his lifted dart: + So godlike Hector prompts his troops to dare; + Nor prompts alone, but leads himself the war. + On the black body of the foe he pours; + As from the cloud's deep bosom, swell'd with showers, + A sudden storm the purple ocean sweeps, + Drives the wild waves, and tosses all the deeps. + Say, Muse! when Jove the Trojan's glory crown'd, + Beneath his arm what heroes bit the ground? + Assaeus, Dolops, and Autonous died, + Opites next was added to their side; + Then brave Hipponous, famed in many a fight, + Opheltius, Orus, sunk to endless night; + AEsymnus, Agelaus; all chiefs of name; + The rest were vulgar deaths unknown to fame. + As when a western whirlwind, charged with storms, + Dispels the gather'd clouds that Notus forms: + The gust continued, violent and strong, + Rolls sable clouds in heaps on heaps along; + Now to the skies the foaming billows rears, + Now breaks the surge, and wide the bottom bares: + Thus, raging Hector, with resistless hands, + O'erturns, confounds, and scatters all their bands. + Now the last ruin the whole host appals; + Now Greece had trembled in her wooden walls; + But wise Ulysses call'd Tydides forth, + His soul rekindled, and awaked his worth. + "And stand we deedless, O eternal shame! + Till Hector's arm involve the ships in flame? + Haste, let us join, and combat side by side." + The warrior thus, and thus the friend replied: + + "No martial toil I shun, no danger fear; + Let Hector come; I wait his fury here. + But Jove with conquest crowns the Trojan train: + And, Jove our foe, all human force is vain." + + He sigh'd; but, sighing, raised his vengeful steel, + And from his car the proud Thymbraeus fell: + Molion, the charioteer, pursued his lord, + His death ennobled by Ulysses' sword. + There slain, they left them in eternal night, + Then plunged amidst the thickest ranks of fight. + So two wild boars outstrip the following hounds, + Then swift revert, and wounds return for wounds. + Stern Hector's conquests in the middle plain + Stood check'd awhile, and Greece respired again. + + The sons of Merops shone amidst the war; + Towering they rode in one refulgent car: + In deep prophetic arts their father skill'd, + Had warn'd his children from the Trojan field. + Fate urged them on: the father warn'd in vain; + They rush'd to fight, and perish'd on the plain; + Their breasts no more the vital spirit warms; + The stern Tydides strips their shining arms. + Hypirochus by great Ulysses dies, + And rich Hippodamus becomes his prize. + Great Jove from Ide with slaughter fills his sight, + And level hangs the doubtful scale of fight. + By Tydeus' lance Agastrophus was slain, + The far-famed hero of Paeonian strain; + Wing'd with his fears, on foot he strove to fly, + His steeds too distant, and the foe too nigh: + Through broken orders, swifter than the wind, + He fled, but flying left his life behind. + This Hector sees, as his experienced eyes + Traverse the files, and to the rescue flies; + Shouts, as he pass'd, the crystal regions rend, + And moving armies on his march attend. + Great Diomed himself was seized with fear, + And thus bespoke his brother of the war: + + "Mark how this way yon bending squadrons yield! + The storm rolls on, and Hector rules the field: + Here stand his utmost force."--The warrior said; + Swift at the word his ponderous javelin fled; + Nor miss'd its aim, but where the plumage danced + Razed the smooth cone, and thence obliquely glanced. + Safe in his helm (the gift of Phoebus' hands) + Without a wound the Trojan hero stands; + But yet so stunn'd, that, staggering on the plain. + His arm and knee his sinking bulk sustain; + O'er his dim sight the misty vapours rise, + And a short darkness shades his swimming eyes. + Tydides followed to regain his lance; + While Hector rose, recover'd from the trance, + Remounts his car, and herds amidst the crowd: + The Greek pursues him, and exults aloud: + "Once more thank Phoebus for thy forfeit breath, + Or thank that swiftness which outstrips the death. + Well by Apollo are thy prayers repaid, + And oft that partial power has lent his aid. + Thou shall not long the death deserved withstand, + If any god assist Tydides' hand. + Fly then, inglorious! but thy flight, this day, + Whole hecatombs of Trojan ghosts shall pay," + + Him, while he triumph'd, Paris eyed from far, + (The spouse of Helen, the fair cause of war;) + Around the fields his feather'd shafts he sent, + From ancient Ilus' ruin'd monument: + Behind the column placed, he bent his bow, + And wing'd an arrow at the unwary foe; + Just as he stoop'd, Agastrophus's crest + To seize, and drew the corslet from his breast, + The bowstring twang'd; nor flew the shaft in vain, + But pierced his foot, and nail'd it to the plain. + The laughing Trojan, with a joyful spring. + Leaps from his ambush, and insults the king. + + "He bleeds! (he cries) some god has sped my dart! + Would the same god had fix'd it in his heart! + So Troy, relieved from that wide-wasting hand, + Should breathe from slaughter and in combat stand: + Whose sons now tremble at his darted spear, + As scatter'd lambs the rushing lion fear." + + He dauntless thus: "Thou conqueror of the fair, + Thou woman-warrior with the curling hair; + Vain archer! trusting to the distant dart, + Unskill'd in arms to act a manly part! + Thou hast but done what boys or women can; + Such hands may wound, but not incense a man. + Nor boast the scratch thy feeble arrow gave, + A coward's weapon never hurts the brave. + Not so this dart, which thou may'st one day feel; + Fate wings its flight, and death is on the steel: + Where this but lights, some noble life expires; + Its touch makes orphans, bathes the cheeks of sires, + Steeps earth in purple, gluts the birds of air, + And leaves such objects as distract the fair." + Ulysses hastens with a trembling heart, + Before him steps, and bending draws the dart: + Forth flows the blood; an eager pang succeeds; + Tydides mounts, and to the navy speeds. + + Now on the field Ulysses stands alone, + The Greeks all fled, the Trojans pouring on; + But stands collected in himself, and whole, + And questions thus his own unconquer'd soul: + + "What further subterfuge, what hopes remain? + What shame, inglorious if I quit the plain? + What danger, singly if I stand the ground, + My friends all scatter'd, all the foes around? + Yet wherefore doubtful? let this truth suffice, + The brave meets danger, and the coward flies. + To die or conquer, proves a hero's heart; + And, knowing this, I know a soldier's part." + + Such thoughts revolving in his careful breast, + Near, and more near, the shady cohorts press'd; + These, in the warrior, their own fate enclose; + And round him deep the steely circle grows. + So fares a boar whom all the troop surrounds + Of shouting huntsmen and of clamorous hounds; + He grinds his ivory tusks; he foams with ire; + His sanguine eye-balls glare with living fire; + By these, by those, on every part is plied; + And the red slaughter spreads on every side. + Pierced through the shoulder, first Deiopis fell; + Next Ennomus and Thoon sank to hell; + Chersidamas, beneath the navel thrust, + Falls prone to earth, and grasps the bloody dust. + Charops, the son of Hippasus, was near; + Ulysses reach'd him with the fatal spear; + But to his aid his brother Socus flies, + Socus the brave, the generous, and the wise. + Near as he drew, the warrior thus began: + + "O great Ulysses! much-enduring man! + Not deeper skill'd in every martial sleight, + Than worn to toils, and active in the fight! + This day two brothers shall thy conquest grace, + And end at once the great Hippasian race, + Or thou beneath this lance must press the field." + He said, and forceful pierced his spacious shield: + Through the strong brass the ringing javelin thrown, + Plough'd half his side, and bared it to the bone. + By Pallas' care, the spear, though deep infix'd, + Stopp'd short of life, nor with his entrails mix'd. + + The wound not mortal wise Ulysses knew, + Then furious thus (but first some steps withdrew): + "Unhappy man! whose death our hands shall grace, + Fate calls thee hence and finish'd is thy race. + Nor longer check my conquests on the foe; + But, pierced by this, to endless darkness go, + And add one spectre to the realms below!" + + He spoke, while Socus, seized with sudden fright, + Trembling gave way, and turn'd his back to flight; + Between his shoulders pierced the following dart, + And held its passage through the panting heart: + Wide in his breast appear'd the grisly wound; + He falls; his armour rings against the ground. + Then thus Ulysses, gazing on the slain: + "Famed son of Hippasus! there press the plain; + There ends thy narrow span assign'd by fate, + Heaven owes Ulysses yet a longer date. + Ah, wretch! no father shall thy corpse compose; + Thy dying eyes no tender mother close; + But hungry birds shall tear those balls away, + And hovering vultures scream around their prey. + Me Greece shall honour, when I meet my doom, + With solemn funerals and a lasting tomb." + + Then raging with intolerable smart, + He writhes his body, and extracts the dart. + The dart a tide of spouting gore pursued, + And gladden'd Troy with sight of hostile blood. + Now troops on troops the fainting chief invade, + Forced he recedes, and loudly calls for aid. + Thrice to its pitch his lofty voice he rears; + The well-known voice thrice Menelaus hears: + Alarm'd, to Ajax Telamon he cried, + Who shares his labours, and defends his side: + "O friend! Ulysses' shouts invade my ear; + Distressed he seems, and no assistance near; + Strong as he is, yet one opposed to all, + Oppress'd by multitudes, the best may fall. + Greece robb'd of him must bid her host despair, + And feel a loss not ages can repair." + + Then, where the cry directs, his course he bends; + Great Ajax, like the god of war, attends, + The prudent chief in sore distress they found, + With bands of furious Trojans compass'd round.(223) + As when some huntsman, with a flying spear, + From the blind thicket wounds a stately deer; + Down his cleft side, while fresh the blood distils, + He bounds aloft, and scuds from hills to hills, + Till life's warm vapour issuing through the wound, + Wild mountain-wolves the fainting beast surround: + Just as their jaws his prostrate limbs invade, + The lion rushes through the woodland shade, + The wolves, though hungry, scour dispersed away; + The lordly savage vindicates his prey. + Ulysses thus, unconquer'd by his pains, + A single warrior half a host sustains: + But soon as Ajax leaves his tower-like shield, + The scattered crowds fly frighted o'er the field; + Atrides' arm the sinking hero stays, + And, saved from numbers, to his car conveys. + + Victorious Ajax plies the routed crew; + And first Doryclus, Priam's son, he slew, + On strong Pandocus next inflicts a wound, + And lays Lysander bleeding on the ground. + As when a torrent, swell'd with wintry rains, + Pours from the mountains o'er the deluged plains, + And pines and oaks, from their foundations torn, + A country's ruins! to the seas are borne: + Fierce Ajax thus o'erwhelms the yielding throng; + Men, steeds, and chariots, roll in heaps along. + + But Hector, from this scene of slaughter far, + Raged on the left, and ruled the tide of war: + Loud groans proclaim his progress through the plain, + And deep Scamander swells with heaps of slain. + There Nestor and Idomeneus oppose + The warrior's fury; there the battle glows; + There fierce on foot, or from the chariot's height, + His sword deforms the beauteous ranks of fight. + The spouse of Helen, dealing darts around, + Had pierced Machaon with a distant wound: + In his right shoulder the broad shaft appear'd, + And trembling Greece for her physician fear'd. + To Nestor then Idomeneus begun: + "Glory of Greece, old Neleus' valiant son! + Ascend thy chariot, haste with speed away, + And great Machaon to the ships convey; + A wise physician skill'd our wounds to heal, + Is more than armies to the public weal." + Old Nestor mounts the seat; beside him rode + The wounded offspring of the healing god. + He lends the lash; the steeds with sounding feet + Shake the dry field, and thunder toward the fleet. + + But now Cebriones, from Hector's car, + Survey'd the various fortune of the war: + "While here (he cried) the flying Greeks are slain, + Trojans on Trojans yonder load the plain. + Before great Ajax see the mingled throng + Of men and chariots driven in heaps along! + I know him well, distinguish'd o'er the field + By the broad glittering of the sevenfold shield. + Thither, O Hector, thither urge thy steeds, + There danger calls, and there the combat bleeds; + There horse and foot in mingled deaths unite, + And groans of slaughter mix with shouts of fight." + + Thus having spoke, the driver's lash resounds; + Swift through the ranks the rapid chariot bounds; + Stung by the stroke, the coursers scour the fields, + O'er heaps of carcases, and hills of shields. + The horses' hoofs are bathed in heroes' gore, + And, dashing, purple all the car before; + The groaning axle sable drops distils, + And mangled carnage clogs the rapid wheels. + Here Hector, plunging through the thickest fight, + Broke the dark phalanx, and let in the light: + (By the long lance, the sword, or ponderous stone. + The ranks he scatter'd and the troops o'erthrown:) + Ajax he shuns, through all the dire debate, + And fears that arm whose force he felt so late. + But partial Jove, espousing Hector's part, + Shot heaven-bred horror through the Grecian's heart; + Confused, unnerved in Hector's presence grown, + Amazed he stood, with terrors not his own. + O'er his broad back his moony shield he threw, + And, glaring round, by tardy steps withdrew. + Thus the grim lion his retreat maintains, + Beset with watchful dogs, and shouting swains; + Repulsed by numbers from the nightly stalls, + Though rage impels him, and though hunger calls, + Long stands the showering darts, and missile fires; + Then sourly slow the indignant beast retires: + So turn'd stern Ajax, by whole hosts repell'd, + While his swoln heart at every step rebell'd. + + As the slow beast, with heavy strength endued, + In some wide field by troops of boys pursued, + Though round his sides a wooden tempest rain, + Crops the tall harvest, and lays waste the plain; + Thick on his hide the hollow blows resound, + The patient animal maintains his ground, + Scarce from the field with all their efforts chased, + And stirs but slowly when he stirs at last: + On Ajax thus a weight of Trojans hung, + The strokes redoubled on his buckler rung; + Confiding now in bulky strength he stands, + Now turns, and backward bears the yielding bands; + Now stiff recedes, yet hardly seems to fly, + And threats his followers with retorted eye. + Fix'd as the bar between two warring powers, + While hissing darts descend in iron showers: + In his broad buckler many a weapon stood, + Its surface bristled with a quivering wood; + And many a javelin, guiltless on the plain, + Marks the dry dust, and thirsts for blood in vain. + But bold Eurypylus his aid imparts, + And dauntless springs beneath a cloud of darts; + Whose eager javelin launch'd against the foe, + Great Apisaon felt the fatal blow; + From his torn liver the red current flow'd, + And his slack knees desert their dying load. + The victor rushing to despoil the dead, + From Paris' bow a vengeful arrow fled; + Fix'd in his nervous thigh the weapon stood, + Fix'd was the point, but broken was the wood. + Back to the lines the wounded Greek retired, + Yet thus retreating, his associates fired: + + "What god, O Grecians! has your hearts dismay'd? + Oh, turn to arms; 'tis Ajax claims your aid. + This hour he stands the mark of hostile rage, + And this the last brave battle he shall wage: + Haste, join your forces; from the gloomy grave + The warrior rescue, and your country save." + Thus urged the chief: a generous troop appears, + Who spread their bucklers, and advance their spears, + To guard their wounded friend: while thus they stand + With pious care, great Ajax joins the band: + Each takes new courage at the hero's sight; + The hero rallies, and renews the fight. + + Thus raged both armies like conflicting fires, + While Nestor's chariot far from fight retires: + His coursers steep'd in sweat, and stain'd with gore, + The Greeks' preserver, great Machaon, bore. + That hour Achilles, from the topmost height + Of his proud fleet, o'erlook'd the fields of fight; + His feasted eyes beheld around the plain + The Grecian rout, the slaying, and the slain. + His friend Machaon singled from the rest, + A transient pity touch'd his vengeful breast. + Straight to Menoetius' much-loved son he sent: + Graceful as Mars, Patroclus quits his tent; + In evil hour! Then fate decreed his doom, + And fix'd the date of all his woes to come. + + "Why calls my friend? thy loved injunctions lay; + Whate'er thy will, Patroclus shall obey." + + "O first of friends! (Pelides thus replied) + Still at my heart, and ever at my side! + The time is come, when yon despairing host + Shall learn the value of the man they lost: + Now at my knees the Greeks shall pour their moan, + And proud Atrides tremble on his throne. + Go now to Nestor, and from him be taught + What wounded warrior late his chariot brought: + For, seen at distance, and but seen behind, + His form recall'd Machaon to my mind; + Nor could I, through yon cloud, discern his face, + The coursers pass'd me with so swift a pace." + + The hero said. His friend obey'd with haste, + Through intermingled ships and tents he pass'd; + The chiefs descending from their car he found: + The panting steeds Eurymedon unbound. + The warriors standing on the breezy shore, + To dry their sweat, and wash away the gore, + Here paused a moment, while the gentle gale + Convey'd that freshness the cool seas exhale; + Then to consult on farther methods went, + And took their seats beneath the shady tent. + The draught prescribed, fair Hecamede prepares, + Arsinous' daughter, graced with golden hairs: + (Whom to his aged arms, a royal slave, + Greece, as the prize of Nestor's wisdom gave:) + A table first with azure feet she placed; + Whose ample orb a brazen charger graced; + Honey new-press'd, the sacred flour of wheat, + And wholesome garlic, crown'd the savoury treat, + Next her white hand an antique goblet brings, + A goblet sacred to the Pylian kings + From eldest times: emboss'd with studs of gold, + Two feet support it, and four handles hold; + On each bright handle, bending o'er the brink, + In sculptured gold, two turtles seem to drink: + A massy weight, yet heaved with ease by him, + When the brisk nectar overlook'd the brim. + Temper'd in this, the nymph of form divine + Pours a large portion of the Pramnian wine; + With goat's-milk cheese a flavourous taste bestows, + And last with flour the smiling surface strows: + This for the wounded prince the dame prepares: + The cordial beverage reverend Nestor shares: + Salubrious draughts the warriors' thirst allay, + And pleasing conference beguiles the day. + + Meantime Patroclus, by Achilles sent, + Unheard approached, and stood before the tent. + Old Nestor, rising then, the hero led + To his high seat: the chief refused and said: + + "'Tis now no season for these kind delays; + The great Achilles with impatience stays. + To great Achilles this respect I owe; + Who asks, what hero, wounded by the foe, + Was borne from combat by thy foaming steeds? + With grief I see the great Machaon bleeds. + This to report, my hasty course I bend; + Thou know'st the fiery temper of my friend." + "Can then the sons of Greece (the sage rejoin'd) + Excite compassion in Achilles' mind? + Seeks he the sorrows of our host to know? + This is not half the story of our woe. + Tell him, not great Machaon bleeds alone, + Our bravest heroes in the navy groan, + Ulysses, Agamemnon, Diomed, + And stern Eurypylus, already bleed. + But, ah! what flattering hopes I entertain! + Achilles heeds not, but derides our pain: + Even till the flames consume our fleet he stays, + And waits the rising of the fatal blaze. + Chief after chief the raging foe destroys; + Calm he looks on, and every death enjoys. + Now the slow course of all-impairing time + Unstrings my nerves, and ends my manly prime; + Oh! had I still that strength my youth possess'd, + When this bold arm the Epeian powers oppress'd, + The bulls of Elis in glad triumph led, + And stretch'd the great Itymonaeus dead! + Then from my fury fled the trembling swains, + And ours was all the plunder of the plains: + Fifty white flocks, full fifty herds of swine, + As many goats, as many lowing kine: + And thrice the number of unrivall'd steeds, + All teeming females, and of generous breeds. + These, as my first essay of arms, I won; + Old Neleus gloried in his conquering son. + Thus Elis forced, her long arrears restored, + And shares were parted to each Pylian lord. + The state of Pyle was sunk to last despair, + When the proud Elians first commenced the war: + For Neleus' sons Alcides' rage had slain; + Of twelve bold brothers, I alone remain! + Oppress'd, we arm'd; and now this conquest gain'd, + My sire three hundred chosen sheep obtain'd. + (That large reprisal he might justly claim, + For prize defrauded, and insulted fame, + When Elis' monarch, at the public course, + Detain'd his chariot, and victorious horse.) + The rest the people shared; myself survey'd + The just partition, and due victims paid. + Three days were past, when Elis rose to war, + With many a courser, and with many a car; + The sons of Actor at their army's head + (Young as they were) the vengeful squadrons led. + High on the rock fair Thryoessa stands, + Our utmost frontier on the Pylian lands: + Not far the streams of famed Alphaeus flow: + The stream they pass'd, and pitch'd their tents below. + Pallas, descending in the shades of night, + Alarms the Pylians and commands the fight. + Each burns for fame, and swells with martial pride, + Myself the foremost; but my sire denied; + Fear'd for my youth, exposed to stern alarms; + And stopp'd my chariot, and detain'd my arms. + My sire denied in vain: on foot I fled + Amidst our chariots; for the goddess led. + + "Along fair Arene's delightful plain + Soft Minyas rolls his waters to the main: + There, horse and foot, the Pylian troops unite, + And sheathed in arms, expect the dawning light. + Thence, ere the sun advanced his noon-day flame, + To great Alphaeus' sacred source we came. + There first to Jove our solemn rites were paid; + An untamed heifer pleased the blue-eyed maid; + A bull, Alphaeus; and a bull was slain + To the blue monarch of the watery main. + In arms we slept, beside the winding flood, + While round the town the fierce Epeians stood. + Soon as the sun, with all-revealing ray, + Flamed in the front of Heaven, and gave the day. + Bright scenes of arms, and works of war appear; + The nations meet; there Pylos, Elis here. + The first who fell, beneath my javelin bled; + King Augias' son, and spouse of Agamede: + (She that all simples' healing virtues knew, + And every herb that drinks the morning dew:) + I seized his car, the van of battle led; + The Epeians saw, they trembled, and they fled. + The foe dispersed, their bravest warrior kill'd, + Fierce as the whirlwind now I swept the field: + Full fifty captive chariots graced my train; + Two chiefs from each fell breathless to the plain. + Then Actor's sons had died, but Neptune shrouds + The youthful heroes in a veil of clouds. + O'er heapy shields, and o'er the prostrate throng, + Collecting spoils, and slaughtering all along, + Through wide Buprasian fields we forced the foes, + Where o'er the vales the Olenian rocks arose; + Till Pallas stopp'd us where Alisium flows. + Even there the hindmost of the rear I slay, + And the same arm that led concludes the day; + Then back to Pyle triumphant take my way. + There to high Jove were public thanks assign'd, + As first of gods; to Nestor, of mankind. + Such then I was, impell'd by youthful blood; + So proved my valour for my country's good. + + "Achilles with unactive fury glows, + And gives to passion what to Greece he owes. + How shall he grieve, when to the eternal shade + Her hosts shall sink, nor his the power to aid! + 0 friend! my memory recalls the day, + When, gathering aids along the Grecian sea, + I, and Ulysses, touch'd at Phthia's port, + And entered Peleus' hospitable court. + A bull to Jove he slew in sacrifice, + And pour'd libations on the flaming thighs. + Thyself, Achilles, and thy reverend sire + Menoetius, turn'd the fragments on the fire. + Achilles sees us, to the feast invites; + Social we sit, and share the genial rites. + We then explained the cause on which we came, + Urged you to arms, and found you fierce for fame. + Your ancient fathers generous precepts gave; + Peleus said only this:--'My son! be brave.' + Menoetius thus: 'Though great Achilles shine + In strength superior, and of race divine, + Yet cooler thoughts thy elder years attend; + Let thy just counsels aid, and rule thy friend.' + Thus spoke your father at Thessalia's court: + Words now forgot, though now of vast import. + Ah! try the utmost that a friend can say: + Such gentle force the fiercest minds obey; + Some favouring god Achilles' heart may move; + Though deaf to glory, he may yield to love. + If some dire oracle his breast alarm, + If aught from Heaven withhold his saving arm, + Some beam of comfort yet on Greece may shine, + If thou but lead the Myrmidonian line; + Clad in Achilles' arms, if thou appear, + Proud Troy may tremble, and desist from war; + Press'd by fresh forces, her o'er-labour'd train + Shall seek their walls, and Greece respire again." + + This touch'd his generous heart, and from the tent + Along the shore with hasty strides he went; + Soon as he came, where, on the crowded strand, + The public mart and courts of justice stand, + Where the tall fleet of great Ulysses lies, + And altars to the guardian gods arise; + There, sad, he met the brave Euaemon's son, + Large painful drops from all his members run; + An arrow's head yet rooted in his wound, + The sable blood in circles mark'd the ground. + As faintly reeling he confess'd the smart, + Weak was his pace, but dauntless was his heart. + Divine compassion touch'd Patroclus' breast, + Who, sighing, thus his bleeding friend address'd: + + "Ah, hapless leaders of the Grecian host! + Thus must ye perish on a barbarous coast? + Is this your fate, to glut the dogs with gore, + Far from your friends, and from your native shore? + Say, great Eurypylus! shall Greece yet stand? + Resists she yet the raging Hector's hand? + Or are her heroes doom'd to die with shame, + And this the period of our wars and fame?" + + Eurypylus replies: "No more, my friend; + Greece is no more! this day her glories end; + Even to the ships victorious Troy pursues, + Her force increasing as her toil renews. + Those chiefs, that used her utmost rage to meet, + Lie pierced with wounds, and bleeding in the fleet. + But, thou, Patroclus! act a friendly part, + Lead to my ships, and draw this deadly dart; + With lukewarm water wash the gore away; + With healing balms the raging smart allay, + Such as sage Chiron, sire of pharmacy, + Once taught Achilles, and Achilles thee. + Of two famed surgeons, Podalirius stands + This hour surrounded by the Trojan bands; + And great Machaon, wounded in his tent, + Now wants that succour which so oft he lent." + + To him the chief: "What then remains to do? + The event of things the gods alone can view. + Charged by Achilles' great command I fly, + And bear with haste the Pylian king's reply: + But thy distress this instant claims relief." + He said, and in his arms upheld the chief. + The slaves their master's slow approach survey'd, + And hides of oxen on the floor display'd: + There stretch'd at length the wounded hero lay; + Patroclus cut the forky steel away: + Then in his hands a bitter root he bruised; + The wound he wash'd, the styptic juice infused. + The closing flesh that instant ceased to glow, + The wound to torture, and the blood to flow. + + [Illustration: HERCULES.] + + HERCULES. + + + + + +BOOK XII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE BATTLE AT THE GRECIAN WALL. + +The Greeks having retired into their intrenchments, Hector attempts to +force them; but it proving impossible to pass the ditch, Polydamas advises +to quit their chariots, and manage the attack on foot. The Trojans follow +his counsel; and having divided their army into five bodies of foot, begin +the assault. But upon the signal of an eagle with a serpent in his talons, +which appeared on the left hand of the Trojans, Polydamas endeavours to +withdraw them again. This Hector opposes, and continues the attack; in +which, after many actions, Sarpedon makes the first breach in the wall. +Hector also, casting a stone of vast size, forces open one of the gates, +and enters at the head of his troops, who victoriously pursue the Grecians +even to their ships. + + While thus the hero's pious cares attend + The cure and safety of his wounded friend, + Trojans and Greeks with clashing shields engage, + And mutual deaths are dealt with mutual rage. + Nor long the trench or lofty walls oppose; + With gods averse the ill-fated works arose; + Their powers neglected, and no victim slain, + The walls were raised, the trenches sunk in vain. + + Without the gods, how short a period stands + The proudest monument of mortal hands! + This stood while Hector and Achilles raged. + While sacred Troy the warring hosts engaged; + But when her sons were slain, her city burn'd, + And what survived of Greece to Greece return'd; + Then Neptune and Apollo shook the shore, + Then Ida's summits pour'd their watery store; + Rhesus and Rhodius then unite their rills, + Caresus roaring down the stony hills, + AEsepus, Granicus, with mingled force, + And Xanthus foaming from his fruitful source; + And gulfy Simois, rolling to the main(224) + Helmets, and shields, and godlike heroes slain: + These, turn'd by Phoebus from their wonted ways, + Deluged the rampire nine continual days; + The weight of waters saps the yielding wall, + And to the sea the floating bulwarks fall. + Incessant cataracts the Thunderer pours, + And half the skies descend in sluicy showers. + The god of ocean, marching stern before, + With his huge trident wounds the trembling shore, + Vast stones and piles from their foundation heaves, + And whelms the smoky ruin in the waves. + Now smooth'd with sand, and levell'd by the flood, + No fragment tells where once the wonder stood; + In their old bounds the rivers roll again, + Shine 'twixt the hills, or wander o'er the plain.(225) + + But this the gods in later times perform; + As yet the bulwark stood, and braved the storm; + The strokes yet echoed of contending powers; + War thunder'd at the gates, and blood distain'd the towers. + Smote by the arm of Jove with dire dismay, + Close by their hollow ships the Grecians lay: + Hector's approach in every wind they hear, + And Hector's fury every moment fear. + He, like a whirlwind, toss'd the scattering throng, + Mingled the troops, and drove the field along. + So 'midst the dogs and hunters' daring bands, + Fierce of his might, a boar or lion stands; + Arm'd foes around a dreadful circle form, + And hissing javelins rain an iron storm: + His powers untamed, their bold assault defy, + And where he turns the rout disperse or die: + He foams, he glares, he bounds against them all, + And if he falls, his courage makes him fall. + With equal rage encompass'd Hector glows; + Exhorts his armies, and the trenches shows. + The panting steeds impatient fury breathe, + And snort and tremble at the gulf beneath; + Just at the brink they neigh, and paw the ground, + And the turf trembles, and the skies resound. + Eager they view'd the prospect dark and deep, + Vast was the leap, and headlong hung the steep; + The bottom bare, (a formidable show!) + And bristled thick with sharpen'd stakes below. + The foot alone this strong defence could force, + And try the pass impervious to the horse. + This saw Polydamas; who, wisely brave, + Restrain'd great Hector, and this counsel gave: + + "O thou, bold leader of the Trojan bands! + And you, confederate chiefs from foreign lands! + What entrance here can cumbrous chariots find, + The stakes beneath, the Grecian walls behind? + No pass through those, without a thousand wounds, + No space for combat in yon narrow bounds. + Proud of the favours mighty Jove has shown, + On certain dangers we too rashly run: + If 'tis will our haughty foes to tame, + Oh may this instant end the Grecian name! + Here, far from Argos, let their heroes fall, + And one great day destroy and bury all! + But should they turn, and here oppress our train, + What hopes, what methods of retreat remain? + Wedged in the trench, by our own troops confused, + In one promiscuous carnage crush'd and bruised, + All Troy must perish, if their arms prevail, + Nor shall a Trojan live to tell the tale. + Hear then, ye warriors! and obey with speed; + Back from the trenches let your steeds be led; + Then all alighting, wedged in firm array, + Proceed on foot, and Hector lead the way. + So Greece shall stoop before our conquering power, + And this (if Jove consent) her fatal hour." + + [Illustration: POLYDAMAS ADVISING HECTOR.] + + POLYDAMAS ADVISING HECTOR. + + + This counsel pleased: the godlike Hector sprung + Swift from his seat; his clanging armour rung. + The chief's example follow'd by his train, + Each quits his car, and issues on the plain, + By orders strict the charioteers enjoin'd + Compel the coursers to their ranks behind. + The forces part in five distinguish'd bands, + And all obey their several chiefs' commands. + The best and bravest in the first conspire, + Pant for the fight, and threat the fleet with fire: + Great Hector glorious in the van of these, + Polydamas, and brave Cebriones. + Before the next the graceful Paris shines, + And bold Alcathous, and Agenor joins. + The sons of Priam with the third appear, + Deiphobus, and Helenas the seer; + In arms with these the mighty Asius stood, + Who drew from Hyrtacus his noble blood, + And whom Arisba's yellow coursers bore, + The coursers fed on Selle's winding shore. + Antenor's sons the fourth battalion guide, + And great AEneas, born on fountful Ide. + Divine Sarpedon the last band obey'd, + Whom Glaucus and Asteropaeus aid. + Next him, the bravest, at their army's head, + But he more brave than all the hosts he led. + + Now with compacted shields in close array, + The moving legions speed their headlong way: + Already in their hopes they fire the fleet, + And see the Grecians gasping at their feet. + + While every Trojan thus, and every aid, + The advice of wise Polydamas obey'd, + Asius alone, confiding in his car, + His vaunted coursers urged to meet the war. + Unhappy hero! and advised in vain; + Those wheels returning ne'er shall mark the plain; + No more those coursers with triumphant joy + Restore their master to the gates of Troy! + Black death attends behind the Grecian wall, + And great Idomeneus shall boast thy fall! + Fierce to the left he drives, where from the plain + The flying Grecians strove their ships to gain; + Swift through the wall their horse and chariots pass'd, + The gates half-open'd to receive the last. + Thither, exulting in his force, he flies: + His following host with clamours rend the skies: + To plunge the Grecians headlong in the main, + Such their proud hopes; but all their hopes were vain! + + To guard the gates, two mighty chiefs attend, + Who from the Lapiths' warlike race descend; + This Polypoetes, great Perithous' heir, + And that Leonteus, like the god of war. + As two tall oaks, before the wall they rise; + Their roots in earth, their heads amidst the skies: + Whose spreading arms with leafy honours crown'd, + Forbid the tempest, and protect the ground; + High on the hills appears their stately form, + And their deep roots for ever brave the storm. + So graceful these, and so the shock they stand + Of raging Asius, and his furious band. + Orestes, Acamas, in front appear, + And OEnomaus and Thoon close the rear: + In vain their clamours shake the ambient fields, + In vain around them beat their hollow shields; + The fearless brothers on the Grecians call, + To guard their navies, and defend the wall. + Even when they saw Troy's sable troops impend, + And Greece tumultuous from her towers descend, + Forth from the portals rush'd the intrepid pair, + Opposed their breasts, and stood themselves the war. + So two wild boars spring furious from their den, + Roused with the cries of dogs and voice of men; + On every side the crackling trees they tear, + And root the shrubs, and lay the forest bare; + They gnash their tusks, with fire their eye-balls roll, + Till some wide wound lets out their mighty soul. + Around their heads the whistling javelins sung, + With sounding strokes their brazen targets rung; + Fierce was the fight, while yet the Grecian powers + Maintain'd the walls, and mann'd the lofty towers: + To save their fleet their last efforts they try, + And stones and darts in mingled tempests fly. + + As when sharp Boreas blows abroad, and brings + The dreary winter on his frozen wings; + Beneath the low-hung clouds the sheets of snow + Descend, and whiten all the fields below: + So fast the darts on either army pour, + So down the rampires rolls the rocky shower: + Heavy, and thick, resound the batter'd shields, + And the deaf echo rattles round the fields. + + With shame repulsed, with grief and fury driven, + The frantic Asius thus accuses Heaven: + "In powers immortal who shall now believe? + Can those too flatter, and can Jove deceive? + What man could doubt but Troy's victorious power + Should humble Greece, and this her fatal hour? + But like when wasps from hollow crannies drive, + To guard the entrance of their common hive, + Darkening the rock, while with unwearied wings + They strike the assailants, and infix their stings; + A race determined, that to death contend: + So fierce these Greeks their last retreats defend. + Gods! shall two warriors only guard their gates, + Repel an army, and defraud the fates?" + + These empty accents mingled with the wind, + Nor moved great Jove's unalterable mind; + To godlike Hector and his matchless might + Was owed the glory of the destined fight. + Like deeds of arms through all the forts were tried, + And all the gates sustain'd an equal tide; + Through the long walls the stony showers were heard, + The blaze of flames, the flash of arms appear'd. + The spirit of a god my breast inspire, + To raise each act to life, and sing with fire! + While Greece unconquer'd kept alive the war, + Secure of death, confiding in despair; + And all her guardian gods, in deep dismay, + With unassisting arms deplored the day. + + Even yet the dauntless Lapithae maintain + The dreadful pass, and round them heap the slain. + First Damasus, by Polypoetes' steel, + Pierced through his helmet's brazen visor, fell; + The weapon drank the mingled brains and gore! + The warrior sinks, tremendous now no more! + Next Ormenus and Pylon yield their breath: + Nor less Leonteus strews the field with death; + First through the belt Hippomachus he gored, + Then sudden waved his unresisted sword: + Antiphates, as through the ranks he broke, + The falchion struck, and fate pursued the stroke: + Iamenus, Orestes, Menon, bled; + And round him rose a monument of dead. + Meantime, the bravest of the Trojan crew, + Bold Hector and Polydamas, pursue; + Fierce with impatience on the works to fall, + And wrap in rolling flames the fleet and wall. + These on the farther bank now stood and gazed, + By Heaven alarm'd, by prodigies amazed: + A signal omen stopp'd the passing host, + Their martial fury in their wonder lost. + Jove's bird on sounding pinions beat the skies; + A bleeding serpent of enormous size, + His talons truss'd; alive, and curling round, + He stung the bird, whose throat received the wound: + Mad with the smart, he drops the fatal prey, + In airy circles wings his painful way, + Floats on the winds, and rends the heaven with cries: + Amidst the host the fallen serpent lies. + They, pale with terror, mark its spires unroll'd, + And Jove's portent with beating hearts behold. + Then first Polydamas the silence broke, + Long weigh'd the signal, and to Hector spoke: + + "How oft, my brother, thy reproach I bear, + For words well meant, and sentiments sincere? + True to those counsels which I judge the best, + I tell the faithful dictates of my breast. + To speak his thoughts is every freeman's right, + In peace, in war, in council, and in fight; + And all I move, deferring to thy sway, + But tends to raise that power which I obey. + Then hear my words, nor may my words be vain! + Seek not this day the Grecian ships to gain; + For sure, to warn us, Jove his omen sent, + And thus my mind explains its clear event: + The victor eagle, whose sinister flight + Retards our host, and fills our hearts with fright, + Dismiss'd his conquest in the middle skies, + Allow'd to seize, but not possess the prize; + Thus, though we gird with fires the Grecian fleet, + Though these proud bulwalks tumble at our feet, + Toils unforeseen, and fiercer, are decreed; + More woes shall follow, and more heroes bleed. + So bodes my soul, and bids me thus advise; + For thus a skilful seer would read the skies." + + To him then Hector with disdain return'd: + (Fierce as he spoke, his eyes with fury burn'd:) + "Are these the faithful counsels of thy tongue? + Thy will is partial, not thy reason wrong: + Or if the purpose of thy heart thou vent, + Sure heaven resumes the little sense it lent. + What coward counsels would thy madness move + Against the word, the will reveal'd of Jove? + The leading sign, the irrevocable nod, + And happy thunders of the favouring god, + These shall I slight, and guide my wavering mind + By wandering birds that flit with every wind? + Ye vagrants of the sky! your wings extend, + Or where the suns arise, or where descend; + To right, to left, unheeded take your way, + While I the dictates of high heaven obey. + Without a sign his sword the brave man draws, + And asks no omen but his country's cause. + But why should'st thou suspect the war's success? + None fears it more, as none promotes it less: + Though all our chiefs amidst yon ships expire, + Trust thy own cowardice to escape their fire. + Troy and her sons may find a general grave, + But thou canst live, for thou canst be a slave. + Yet should the fears that wary mind suggests + Spread their cold poison through our soldiers' breasts, + My javelin can revenge so base a part, + And free the soul that quivers in thy heart." + + Furious he spoke, and, rushing to the wall, + Calls on his host; his host obey the call; + With ardour follow where their leader flies: + Redoubling clamours thunder in the skies. + Jove breathes a whirlwind from the hills of Ide, + And drifts of dust the clouded navy hide; + He fills the Greeks with terror and dismay, + And gives great Hector the predestined day. + Strong in themselves, but stronger in his aid, + Close to the works their rigid siege they laid. + In vain the mounds and massy beams defend, + While these they undermine, and those they rend; + Upheaved the piles that prop the solid wall; + And heaps on heaps the smoky ruins fall. + Greece on her ramparts stands the fierce alarms; + The crowded bulwarks blaze with waving arms, + Shield touching shield, a long refulgent row; + Whence hissing darts, incessant, rain below. + The bold Ajaces fly from tower to tower, + And rouse, with flame divine, the Grecian power. + The generous impulse every Greek obeys; + Threats urge the fearful; and the valiant, praise. + + "Fellows in arms! whose deeds are known to fame, + And you, whose ardour hopes an equal name! + Since not alike endued with force or art; + Behold a day when each may act his part! + A day to fire the brave, and warm the cold, + To gain new glories, or augment the old. + Urge those who stand, and those who faint, excite; + Drown Hector's vaunts in loud exhorts of fight; + Conquest, not safety, fill the thoughts of all; + Seek not your fleet, but sally from the wall; + So Jove once more may drive their routed train, + And Troy lie trembling in her walls again." + + Their ardour kindles all the Grecian powers; + And now the stones descend in heavier showers. + As when high Jove his sharp artillery forms, + And opes his cloudy magazine of storms; + In winter's bleak un comfortable reign, + A snowy inundation hides the plain; + He stills the winds, and bids the skies to sleep; + Then pours the silent tempest thick and deep; + And first the mountain-tops are cover'd o'er, + Then the green fields, and then the sandy shore; + Bent with the weight, the nodding woods are seen, + And one bright waste hides all the works of men: + The circling seas, alone absorbing all, + Drink the dissolving fleeces as they fall: + So from each side increased the stony rain, + And the white ruin rises o'er the plain. + + Thus godlike Hector and his troops contend + To force the ramparts, and the gates to rend: + Nor Troy could conquer, nor the Greeks would yield, + Till great Sarpedon tower'd amid the field; + For mighty Jove inspired with martial flame + His matchless son, and urged him on to fame. + In arms he shines, conspicuous from afar, + And bears aloft his ample shield in air; + Within whose orb the thick bull-hides were roll'd, + Ponderous with brass, and bound with ductile gold: + And while two pointed javelins arm his hands, + Majestic moves along, and leads his Lycian bands. + + So press'd with hunger, from the mountain's brow + Descends a lion on the flocks below; + So stalks the lordly savage o'er the plain, + In sullen majesty, and stern disdain: + In vain loud mastiffs bay him from afar, + And shepherds gall him with an iron war; + Regardless, furious, he pursues his way; + He foams, he roars, he rends the panting prey. + + Resolved alike, divine Sarpedon glows + With generous rage that drives him on the foes. + He views the towers, and meditates their fall, + To sure destruction dooms the aspiring wall; + Then casting on his friend an ardent look, + Fired with the thirst of glory, thus he spoke: + + "Why boast we, Glaucus! our extended reign,(226) + Where Xanthus' streams enrich the Lycian plain, + Our numerous herds that range the fruitful field, + And hills where vines their purple harvest yield, + Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crown'd, + Our feasts enhanced with music's sprightly sound? + Why on those shores are we with joy survey'd, + Admired as heroes, and as gods obey'd, + Unless great acts superior merit prove, + And vindicate the bounteous powers above? + 'Tis ours, the dignity they give to grace; + The first in valour, as the first in place; + That when with wondering eyes our martial bands + Behold our deeds transcending our commands, + Such, they may cry, deserve the sovereign state, + Whom those that envy dare not imitate! + Could all our care elude the gloomy grave, + Which claims no less the fearful and the brave, + For lust of fame I should not vainly dare + In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war. + But since, alas! ignoble age must come, + Disease, and death's inexorable doom + The life, which others pay, let us bestow, + And give to fame what we to nature owe; + Brave though we fall, and honour'd if we live, + Or let us glory gain, or glory give!" + + He said; his words the listening chief inspire + With equal warmth, and rouse the warrior's fire; + The troops pursue their leaders with delight, + Rush to the foe, and claim the promised fight. + Menestheus from on high the storm beheld + Threatening the fort, and blackening in the field: + Around the walls he gazed, to view from far + What aid appear'd to avert the approaching war, + And saw where Teucer with the Ajaces stood, + Of fight insatiate, prodigal of blood. + In vain he calls; the din of helms and shields + Rings to the skies, and echoes through the fields, + The brazen hinges fly, the walls resound, + Heaven trembles, roar the mountains, thunders all the ground + Then thus to Thoos: "Hence with speed (he said), + And urge the bold Ajaces to our aid; + Their strength, united, best may help to bear + The bloody labours of the doubtful war: + Hither the Lycian princes bend their course, + The best and bravest of the hostile force. + But if too fiercely there the foes contend, + Let Telamon, at least, our towers defend, + And Teucer haste with his unerring bow + To share the danger, and repel the foe." + + Swift, at the word, the herald speeds along + The lofty ramparts, through the martial throng, + And finds the heroes bathed in sweat and gore, + Opposed in combat on the dusty shore. + "Ye valiant leaders of our warlike bands! + Your aid (said Thoos) Peteus' son demands; + Your strength, united, best may help to bear + The bloody labours of the doubtful war: + Thither the Lycian princes bend their course, + The best and bravest of the hostile force. + But if too fiercely, here, the foes contend, + At least, let Telamon those towers defend, + And Teucer haste with his unerring bow + To share the danger, and repel the foe." + + Straight to the fort great Ajax turn'd his care, + And thus bespoke his brothers of the war: + "Now, valiant Lycomede! exert your might, + And, brave Oileus, prove your force in fight; + To you I trust the fortune of the field, + Till by this arm the foe shall be repell'd: + That done, expect me to complete the day + Then with his sevenfold shield he strode away. + With equal steps bold Teucer press'd the shore, + Whose fatal bow the strong Pandion bore. + + High on the walls appear'd the Lycian powers, + Like some black tempest gathering round the towers: + The Greeks, oppress'd, their utmost force unite, + Prepared to labour in the unequal fight: + The war renews, mix'd shouts and groans arise; + Tumultuous clamour mounts, and thickens in the skies. + Fierce Ajax first the advancing host invades, + And sends the brave Epicles to the shades, + Sarpedon's friend. Across the warrior's way, + Rent from the walls, a rocky fragment lay; + In modern ages not the strongest swain + Could heave the unwieldy burden from the plain: + He poised, and swung it round; then toss'd on high, + It flew with force, and labour'd up the sky; + Full on the Lycian's helmet thundering down, + The ponderous ruin crush'd his batter'd crown. + As skilful divers from some airy steep + Headlong descend, and shoot into the deep, + So falls Epicles; then in groans expires, + And murmuring to the shades the soul retires. + + While to the ramparts daring Glaucus drew, + From Teucer's hand a winged arrow flew; + The bearded shaft the destined passage found, + And on his naked arm inflicts a wound. + The chief, who fear'd some foe's insulting boast + Might stop the progress of his warlike host, + Conceal'd the wound, and, leaping from his height + Retired reluctant from the unfinish'd fight. + Divine Sarpedon with regret beheld + Disabled Glaucus slowly quit the field; + His beating breast with generous ardour glows, + He springs to fight, and flies upon the foes. + Alcmaon first was doom'd his force to feel; + Deep in his breast he plunged the pointed steel; + Then from the yawning wound with fury tore + The spear, pursued by gushing streams of gore: + Down sinks the warrior with a thundering sound, + His brazen armour rings against the ground. + + Swift to the battlement the victor flies, + Tugs with full force, and every nerve applies: + It shakes; the ponderous stones disjointed yield; + The rolling ruins smoke along the field. + A mighty breach appears; the walls lie bare; + And, like a deluge, rushes in the war. + At once bold Teucer draws the twanging bow, + And Ajax sends his javelin at the foe; + Fix'd in his belt the feather'd weapon stood, + And through his buckler drove the trembling wood; + But Jove was present in the dire debate, + To shield his offspring, and avert his fate. + The prince gave back, not meditating flight, + But urging vengeance, and severer fight; + Then raised with hope, and fired with glory's charms, + His fainting squadrons to new fury warms. + "O where, ye Lycians, is the strength you boast? + Your former fame and ancient virtue lost! + The breach lies open, but your chief in vain + Attempts alone the guarded pass to gain: + Unite, and soon that hostile fleet shall fall: + The force of powerful union conquers all." + + This just rebuke inflamed the Lycian crew; + They join, they thicken, and the assault renew: + Unmoved the embodied Greeks their fury dare, + And fix'd support the weight of all the war; + Nor could the Greeks repel the Lycian powers, + Nor the bold Lycians force the Grecian towers. + As on the confines of adjoining grounds, + Two stubborn swains with blows dispute their bounds; + They tug, they sweat; but neither gain, nor yield, + One foot, one inch, of the contended field; + Thus obstinate to death, they fight, they fall; + Nor these can keep, nor those can win the wall. + Their manly breasts are pierced with many a wound, + Loud strokes are heard, and rattling arms resound; + The copious slaughter covers all the shore, + And the high ramparts drip with human gore. + + As when two scales are charged with doubtful loads, + From side to side the trembling balance nods, + (While some laborious matron, just and poor, + With nice exactness weighs her woolly store,) + Till poised aloft, the resting beam suspends + Each equal weight; nor this, nor that, descends:(227) + So stood the war, till Hector's matchless might, + With fates prevailing, turn'd the scale of fight. + Fierce as a whirlwind up the walls he flies, + And fires his host with loud repeated cries. + "Advance, ye Trojans! lend your valiant hands, + Haste to the fleet, and toss the blazing brands!" + They hear, they run; and, gathering at his call, + Raise scaling engines, and ascend the wall: + Around the works a wood of glittering spears + Shoots up, and all the rising host appears. + A ponderous stone bold Hector heaved to throw, + Pointed above, and rough and gross below: + Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise, + Such men as live in these degenerate days: + Yet this, as easy as a swain could bear + The snowy fleece, he toss'd, and shook in air; + For Jove upheld, and lighten'd of its load + The unwieldy rock, the labour of a god. + Thus arm'd, before the folded gates he came, + Of massy substance, and stupendous frame; + With iron bars and brazen hinges strong, + On lofty beams of solid timber hung: + Then thundering through the planks with forceful sway, + Drives the sharp rock; the solid beams give way, + The folds are shatter'd; from the crackling door + Leap the resounding bars, the flying hinges roar. + Now rushing in, the furious chief appears, + Gloomy as night! and shakes two shining spears:(228) + A dreadful gleam from his bright armour came, + And from his eye-balls flash'd the living flame. + He moves a god, resistless in his course, + And seems a match for more than mortal force. + Then pouring after, through the gaping space, + A tide of Trojans flows, and fills the place; + The Greeks behold, they tremble, and they fly; + The shore is heap'd with death, and tumult rends the sky. + + [Illustration: GREEK ALTAR.] + + GREEK ALTAR. + + + + + +BOOK XIII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE FOURTH BATTLE CONTINUED, IN WHICH NEPTUNE ASSISTS THE GREEKS: THE ACTS +OF IDOMENEUS. + +Neptune, concerned for the loss of the Grecians, upon seeing the +fortification forced by Hector, (who had entered the gate near the station +of the Ajaces,) assumes the shape of Calchas, and inspires those heroes to +oppose him: then, in the form of one of the generals, encourages the other +Greeks who had retired to their vessels. The Ajaces form their troops in a +close phalanx, and put a stop to Hector and the Trojans. Several deeds of +valour are performed; Meriones, losing his spear in the encounter, repairs +to seek another at the tent of Idomeneus: this occasions a conversation +between those two warriors, who return together to the battle. Idomeneus +signalizes his courage above the rest; he kills Othryoneus, Asius, and +Alcathous: Deiphobus and AEneas march against him, and at length Idomeneus +retires. Menelaus wounds Helenus, and kills Pisander. The Trojans are +repulsed on the left wing; Hector still keeps his ground against the +Ajaces, till, being galled by the Locrian slingers and archers, Polydamas +advises to call a council of war: Hector approves of his advice, but goes +first to rally the Trojans; upbraids Paris, rejoins Polydamas, meets Ajax +again, and renews the attack. + +The eight-and-twentieth day still continues. The scene is between the +Grecian wall and the sea-shore. + + When now the Thunderer on the sea-beat coast + Had fix'd great Hector and his conquering host, + He left them to the fates, in bloody fray + To toil and struggle through the well-fought day. + Then turn'd to Thracia from the field of fight + Those eyes that shed insufferable light, + To where the Mysians prove their martial force, + And hardy Thracians tame the savage horse; + And where the far-famed Hippomolgian strays, + Renown'd for justice and for length of days;(229) + Thrice happy race! that, innocent of blood, + From milk, innoxious, seek their simple food: + Jove sees delighted; and avoids the scene + Of guilty Troy, of arms, and dying men: + No aid, he deems, to either host is given, + While his high law suspends the powers of Heaven. + + Meantime the monarch of the watery main + Observed the Thunderer, nor observed in vain. + In Samothracia, on a mountain's brow, + Whose waving woods o'erhung the deeps below, + He sat; and round him cast his azure eyes + Where Ida's misty tops confusedly rise; + Below, fair Ilion's glittering spires were seen; + The crowded ships and sable seas between. + There, from the crystal chambers of the main + Emerged, he sat, and mourn'd his Argives slain. + At Jove incensed, with grief and fury stung, + Prone down the rocky steep he rush'd along; + Fierce as he pass'd, the lofty mountains nod, + The forest shakes; earth trembled as he trod, + And felt the footsteps of the immortal god. + From realm to realm three ample strides he took, + And, at the fourth, the distant AEgae shook. + + Far in the bay his shining palace stands, + Eternal frame! not raised by mortal hands: + This having reach'd, his brass-hoof'd steeds he reins, + Fleet as the winds, and deck'd with golden manes. + Refulgent arms his mighty limbs infold, + Immortal arms of adamant and gold. + He mounts the car, the golden scourge applies, + He sits superior, and the chariot flies: + His whirling wheels the glassy surface sweep; + The enormous monsters rolling o'er the deep + Gambol around him on the watery way, + And heavy whales in awkward measures play; + The sea subsiding spreads a level plain, + Exults, and owns the monarch of the main; + The parting waves before his coursers fly; + The wondering waters leave his axle dry. + + Deep in the liquid regions lies a cave, + Between where Tenedos the surges lave, + And rocky Imbrus breaks the rolling wave: + There the great ruler of the azure round + Stopp'd his swift chariot, and his steeds unbound, + Fed with ambrosial herbage from his hand, + And link'd their fetlocks with a golden band, + Infrangible, immortal: there they stay: + The father of the floods pursues his way: + Where, like a tempest, darkening heaven around, + Or fiery deluge that devours the ground, + The impatient Trojans, in a gloomy throng, + Embattled roll'd, as Hector rush'd along: + To the loud tumult and the barbarous cry + The heavens re-echo, and the shores reply: + They vow destruction to the Grecian name, + And in their hopes the fleets already flame. + + But Neptune, rising from the seas profound, + The god whose earthquakes rock the solid ground, + Now wears a mortal form; like Calchas seen, + Such his loud voice, and such his manly mien; + His shouts incessant every Greek inspire, + But most the Ajaces, adding fire to fire. + + [Illustration: NEPTUNE RISING FROM THE SEA.] + + NEPTUNE RISING FROM THE SEA. + + + "'Tis yours, O warriors, all our hopes to raise: + Oh recollect your ancient worth and praise! + 'Tis yours to save us, if you cease to fear; + Flight, more than shameful, is destructive here. + On other works though Troy with fury fall, + And pour her armies o'er our batter'd wall: + There Greece has strength: but this, this part o'erthrown, + Her strength were vain; I dread for you alone: + Here Hector rages like the force of fire, + Vaunts of his gods, and calls high Jove his sire: + If yet some heavenly power your breast excite, + Breathe in your hearts, and string your arms to fight, + Greece yet may live, her threaten'd fleet maintain: + And Hector's force, and Jove's own aid, be vain." + + Then with his sceptre, that the deep controls, + He touch'd the chiefs, and steel'd their manly souls: + Strength, not their own, the touch divine imparts, + Prompts their light limbs, and swells their daring hearts. + Then, as a falcon from the rocky height, + Her quarry seen, impetuous at the sight, + Forth-springing instant, darts herself from high, + Shoots on the wing, and skims along the sky: + Such, and so swift, the power of ocean flew; + The wide horizon shut him from their view. + + The inspiring god Oileus' active son + Perceived the first, and thus to Telamon: + + "Some god, my friend, some god in human form + Favouring descends, and wills to stand the storm. + Not Calchas this, the venerable seer; + Short as he turned, I saw the power appear: + I mark'd his parting, and the steps he trod; + His own bright evidence reveals a god. + Even now some energy divine I share, + And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air!" + + "With equal ardour (Telamon returns) + My soul is kindled, and my bosom burns; + New rising spirits all my force alarm, + Lift each impatient limb, and brace my arm. + This ready arm, unthinking, shakes the dart; + The blood pours back, and fortifies my heart: + Singly, methinks, yon towering chief I meet, + And stretch the dreadful Hector at my feet." + + Full of the god that urged their burning breast, + The heroes thus their mutual warmth express'd. + Neptune meanwhile the routed Greeks inspired; + Who, breathless, pale, with length of labours tired, + Pant in the ships; while Troy to conquest calls, + And swarms victorious o'er their yielding walls: + Trembling before the impending storm they lie, + While tears of rage stand burning in their eye. + Greece sunk they thought, and this their fatal hour; + But breathe new courage as they feel the power. + Teucer and Leitus first his words excite; + Then stern Peneleus rises to the fight; + Thoas, Deipyrus, in arms renown'd, + And Merion next, the impulsive fury found; + Last Nestor's son the same bold ardour takes, + While thus the god the martial fire awakes: + + "Oh lasting infamy, oh dire disgrace + To chiefs of vigorous youth, and manly race! + I trusted in the gods, and you, to see + Brave Greece victorious, and her navy free: + Ah, no--the glorious combat you disclaim, + And one black day clouds all her former fame. + Heavens! what a prodigy these eyes survey, + Unseen, unthought, till this amazing day! + Fly we at length from Troy's oft-conquer'd bands? + And falls our fleet by such inglorious hands? + A rout undisciplined, a straggling train, + Not born to glories of the dusty plain; + Like frighted fawns from hill to hill pursued, + A prey to every savage of the wood: + Shall these, so late who trembled at your name, + Invade your camps, involve your ships in flame? + A change so shameful, say, what cause has wrought? + The soldiers' baseness, or the general's fault? + Fools! will ye perish for your leader's vice; + The purchase infamy, and life the price? + 'Tis not your cause, Achilles' injured fame: + Another's is the crime, but yours the shame. + Grant that our chief offend through rage or lust, + Must you be cowards, if your king's unjust? + Prevent this evil, and your country save: + Small thought retrieves the spirits of the brave. + Think, and subdue! on dastards dead to fame + I waste no anger, for they feel no shame: + But you, the pride, the flower of all our host, + My heart weeps blood to see your glory lost! + Nor deem this day, this battle, all you lose; + A day more black, a fate more vile, ensues. + Let each reflect, who prizes fame or breath, + On endless infamy, on instant death: + For, lo! the fated time, the appointed shore: + Hark! the gates burst, the brazen barriers roar! + Impetuous Hector thunders at the wall; + The hour, the spot, to conquer, or to fall." + + These words the Grecians' fainting hearts inspire, + And listening armies catch the godlike fire. + Fix'd at his post was each bold Ajax found, + With well-ranged squadrons strongly circled round: + So close their order, so disposed their fight, + As Pallas' self might view with fix'd delight; + Or had the god of war inclined his eyes, + The god of war had own'd a just surprise. + A chosen phalanx, firm, resolved as fate, + Descending Hector and his battle wait. + An iron scene gleams dreadful o'er the fields, + Armour in armour lock'd, and shields in shields, + Spears lean on spears, on targets targets throng, + Helms stuck to helms, and man drove man along. + The floating plumes unnumber'd wave above, + As when an earthquake stirs the nodding grove; + And levell'd at the skies with pointing rays, + Their brandish'd lances at each motion blaze. + + Thus breathing death, in terrible array, + The close compacted legions urged their way: + Fierce they drove on, impatient to destroy; + Troy charged the first, and Hector first of Troy. + As from some mountain's craggy forehead torn, + A rock's round fragment flies, with fury borne, + (Which from the stubborn stone a torrent rends,) + Precipitate the ponderous mass descends: + From steep to steep the rolling ruin bounds; + At every shock the crackling wood resounds; + Still gathering force, it smokes; and urged amain, + Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain: + There stops--so Hector. Their whole force he proved,(230) + Resistless when he raged, and, when he stopp'd, unmoved. + + On him the war is bent, the darts are shed, + And all their falchions wave around his head: + Repulsed he stands, nor from his stand retires; + But with repeated shouts his army fires. + "Trojans! be firm; this arm shall make your way + Through yon square body, and that black array: + Stand, and my spear shall rout their scattering power, + Strong as they seem, embattled like a tower; + For he that Juno's heavenly bosom warms, + The first of gods, this day inspires our arms." + + He said; and roused the soul in every breast: + Urged with desire of fame, beyond the rest, + Forth march'd Deiphobus; but, marching, held + Before his wary steps his ample shield. + Bold Merion aim'd a stroke (nor aim'd it wide); + The glittering javelin pierced the tough bull-hide; + But pierced not through: unfaithful to his hand, + The point broke short, and sparkled in the sand. + The Trojan warrior, touch'd with timely fear, + On the raised orb to distance bore the spear. + The Greek, retreating, mourn'd his frustrate blow, + And cursed the treacherous lance that spared a foe; + Then to the ships with surly speed he went, + To seek a surer javelin in his tent. + + Meanwhile with rising rage the battle glows, + The tumult thickens, and the clamour grows. + By Teucer's arm the warlike Imbrius bleeds, + The son of Mentor, rich in generous steeds. + Ere yet to Troy the sons of Greece were led, + In fair Pedaeus' verdant pastures bred, + The youth had dwelt, remote from war's alarms, + And blest in bright Medesicaste's arms: + (This nymph, the fruit of Priam's ravish'd joy, + Allied the warrior to the house of Troy:) + To Troy, when glory call'd his arms, he came, + And match'd the bravest of her chiefs in fame: + With Priam's sons, a guardian of the throne, + He lived, beloved and honour'd as his own. + Him Teucer pierced between the throat and ear: + He groans beneath the Telamonian spear. + As from some far-seen mountain's airy crown, + Subdued by steel, a tall ash tumbles down, + And soils its verdant tresses on the ground; + So falls the youth; his arms the fall resound. + Then Teucer rushing to despoil the dead, + From Hector's hand a shining javelin fled: + He saw, and shunn'd the death; the forceful dart + Sung on, and pierced Amphimachus's heart, + Cteatus' son, of Neptune's forceful line; + Vain was his courage, and his race divine! + Prostrate he falls; his clanging arms resound, + And his broad buckler thunders on the ground. + To seize his beamy helm the victor flies, + And just had fastened on the dazzling prize, + When Ajax' manly arm a javelin flung; + Full on the shield's round boss the weapon rung; + He felt the shock, nor more was doom'd to feel, + Secure in mail, and sheath'd in shining steel. + Repulsed he yields; the victor Greeks obtain + The spoils contested, and bear off the slain. + Between the leaders of the Athenian line, + (Stichius the brave, Menestheus the divine,) + Deplored Amphimachus, sad object! lies; + Imbrius remains the fierce Ajaces' prize. + As two grim lions bear across the lawn, + Snatch'd from devouring hounds, a slaughter'd fawn. + In their fell jaws high-lifting through the wood, + And sprinkling all the shrubs with drops of blood; + So these, the chief: great Ajax from the dead + Strips his bright arms; Oileus lops his head: + Toss'd like a ball, and whirl'd in air away, + At Hector's feet the gory visage lay. + + The god of ocean, fired with stern disdain, + And pierced with sorrow for his grandson slain, + Inspires the Grecian hearts, confirms their hands, + And breathes destruction on the Trojan bands. + Swift as a whirlwind rushing to the fleet, + He finds the lance-famed Idomen of Crete, + His pensive brow the generous care express'd + With which a wounded soldier touch'd his breast, + Whom in the chance of war a javelin tore, + And his sad comrades from the battle bore; + Him to the surgeons of the camp he sent: + That office paid, he issued from his tent + Fierce for the fight: to whom the god begun, + In Thoas' voice, Andraemon's valiant son, + Who ruled where Calydon's white rocks arise, + And Pleuron's chalky cliffs emblaze the skies: + + "Where's now the imperious vaunt, the daring boast, + Of Greece victorious, and proud Ilion lost?" + + To whom the king: "On Greece no blame be thrown; + Arms are her trade, and war is all her own. + Her hardy heroes from the well-fought plains + Nor fear withholds, nor shameful sloth detains: + 'Tis heaven, alas! and Jove's all-powerful doom, + That far, far distant from our native home + Wills us to fall inglorious! Oh, my friend! + Once foremost in the fight, still prone to lend + Or arms or counsels, now perform thy best, + And what thou canst not singly, urge the rest." + + Thus he: and thus the god whose force can make + The solid globe's eternal basis shake: + "Ah! never may he see his native land, + But feed the vultures on this hateful strand, + Who seeks ignobly in his ships to stay, + Nor dares to combat on this signal day! + For this, behold! in horrid arms I shine, + And urge thy soul to rival acts with mine. + Together let us battle on the plain; + Two, not the worst; nor even this succour vain: + Not vain the weakest, if their force unite; + But ours, the bravest have confess'd in fight." + + This said, he rushes where the combat burns; + Swift to his tent the Cretan king returns: + From thence, two javelins glittering in his hand, + And clad in arms that lighten'd all the strand, + Fierce on the foe the impetuous hero drove, + Like lightning bursting from the arm of Jove, + Which to pale man the wrath of heaven declares, + Or terrifies the offending world with wars; + In streamy sparkles, kindling all the skies, + From pole to pole the trail of glory flies: + Thus his bright armour o'er the dazzled throng + Gleam'd dreadful, as the monarch flash'd along. + + Him, near his tent, Meriones attends; + Whom thus he questions: "Ever best of friends! + O say, in every art of battle skill'd, + What holds thy courage from so brave a field? + On some important message art thou bound, + Or bleeds my friend by some unhappy wound? + Inglorious here, my soul abhors to stay, + And glows with prospects of th' approaching day." + + "O prince! (Meriones replies) whose care + Leads forth the embattled sons of Crete to war; + This speaks my grief: this headless lance I wield; + The rest lies rooted in a Trojan shield." + + To whom the Cretan: "Enter, and receive + The wonted weapons; those my tent can give; + Spears I have store, (and Trojan lances all,) + That shed a lustre round the illumined wall, + Though I, disdainful of the distant war, + Nor trust the dart, nor aim the uncertain spear, + Yet hand to hand I fight, and spoil the slain; + And thence these trophies, and these arms I gain. + Enter, and see on heaps the helmets roll'd, + And high-hung spears, and shields that flame with gold." + + "Nor vain (said Merion) are our martial toils; + We too can boast of no ignoble spoils: + But those my ship contains; whence distant far, + I fight conspicuous in the van of war, + What need I more? If any Greek there be + Who knows not Merion, I appeal to thee." + + To this, Idomeneus: "The fields of fight + Have proved thy valour, and unconquer'd might: + And were some ambush for the foes design'd, + Even there thy courage would not lag behind: + In that sharp service, singled from the rest, + The fear of each, or valour, stands confess'd. + No force, no firmness, the pale coward shows; + He shifts his place: his colour comes and goes: + A dropping sweat creeps cold on every part; + Against his bosom beats his quivering heart; + Terror and death in his wild eye-balls stare; + With chattering teeth he stands, and stiffening hair, + And looks a bloodless image of despair! + Not so the brave--still dauntless, still the same, + Unchanged his colour, and unmoved his frame: + Composed his thought, determined is his eye, + And fix'd his soul, to conquer or to die: + If aught disturb the tenour of his breast, + 'Tis but the wish to strike before the rest. + + "In such assays thy blameless worth is known, + And every art of dangerous war thy own. + By chance of fight whatever wounds you bore, + Those wounds were glorious all, and all before; + Such as may teach, 'twas still thy brave delight + T'oppose thy bosom where thy foremost fight. + But why, like infants, cold to honour's charms, + Stand we to talk, when glory calls to arms? + Go--from my conquer'd spears the choicest take, + And to their owners send them nobly back." + + Swift at the word bold Merion snatch'd a spear + And, breathing slaughter, follow'd to the war. + So Mars armipotent invades the plain, + (The wide destroyer of the race of man,) + Terror, his best-beloved son, attends his course, + Arm'd with stern boldness, and enormous force; + The pride of haughty warriors to confound, + And lay the strength of tyrants on the ground: + From Thrace they fly, call'd to the dire alarms + Of warring Phlegyans, and Ephyrian arms; + Invoked by both, relentless they dispose, + To these glad conquest, murderous rout to those. + So march'd the leaders of the Cretan train, + And their bright arms shot horror o'er the plain. + + Then first spake Merion: "Shall we join the right, + Or combat in the centre of the fight? + Or to the left our wonted succour lend? + Hazard and fame all parts alike attend." + + "Not in the centre (Idomen replied:) + Our ablest chieftains the main battle guide; + Each godlike Ajax makes that post his care, + And gallant Teucer deals destruction there, + Skill'd or with shafts to gall the distant field, + Or bear close battle on the sounding shield. + These can the rage of haughty Hector tame: + Safe in their arms, the navy fears no flame, + Till Jove himself descends, his bolts to shed, + And hurl the blazing ruin at our head. + Great must he be, of more than human birth, + Nor feed like mortals on the fruits of earth. + Him neither rocks can crush, nor steel can wound, + Whom Ajax fells not on the ensanguined ground. + In standing fight he mates Achilles' force, + Excell'd alone in swiftness in the course. + Then to the left our ready arms apply, + And live with glory, or with glory die." + + He said: and Merion to th' appointed place, + Fierce as the god of battles, urged his pace. + Soon as the foe the shining chiefs beheld + Rush like a fiery torrent o'er the field, + Their force embodied in a tide they pour; + The rising combat sounds along the shore. + As warring winds, in Sirius' sultry reign, + From different quarters sweep the sandy plain; + On every side the dusty whirlwinds rise, + And the dry fields are lifted to the skies: + Thus by despair, hope, rage, together driven, + Met the black hosts, and, meeting, darken'd heaven. + All dreadful glared the iron face of war, + Bristled with upright spears, that flash'd afar; + Dire was the gleam of breastplates, helms, and shields, + And polish'd arms emblazed the flaming fields: + Tremendous scene! that general horror gave, + But touch'd with joy the bosoms of the brave. + + Saturn's great sons in fierce contention vied, + And crowds of heroes in their anger died. + The sire of earth and heaven, by Thetis won + To crown with glory Peleus' godlike son, + Will'd not destruction to the Grecian powers, + But spared awhile the destined Trojan towers; + While Neptune, rising from his azure main, + Warr'd on the king of heaven with stern disdain, + And breathed revenge, and fired the Grecian train. + Gods of one source, of one ethereal race, + Alike divine, and heaven their native place; + But Jove the greater; first-born of the skies, + And more than men, or gods, supremely wise. + For this, of Jove's superior might afraid, + Neptune in human form conceal'd his aid. + These powers enfold the Greek and Trojan train + In war and discord's adamantine chain, + Indissolubly strong: the fatal tie + Is stretch'd on both, and close compell'd they die. + + Dreadful in arms, and grown in combats grey, + The bold Idomeneus controls the day. + First by his hand Othryoneus was slain, + Swell'd with false hopes, with mad ambition vain; + Call'd by the voice of war to martial fame, + From high Cabesus' distant walls he came; + Cassandra's love he sought, with boasts of power, + And promised conquest was the proffer'd dower. + The king consented, by his vaunts abused; + The king consented, but the fates refused. + Proud of himself, and of the imagined bride, + The field he measured with a larger stride. + Him as he stalk'd, the Cretan javelin found; + Vain was his breastplate to repel the wound: + His dream of glory lost, he plunged to hell; + His arms resounded as the boaster fell. + The great Idomeneus bestrides the dead; + "And thus (he cries) behold thy promise sped! + Such is the help thy arms to Ilion bring, + And such the contract of the Phrygian king! + Our offers now, illustrious prince! receive; + For such an aid what will not Argos give? + To conquer Troy, with ours thy forces join, + And count Atrides' fairest daughter thine. + Meantime, on further methods to advise, + Come, follow to the fleet thy new allies; + There hear what Greece has on her part to say." + He spoke, and dragg'd the gory corse away. + This Asius view'd, unable to contain, + Before his chariot warring on the plain: + (His crowded coursers, to his squire consign'd, + Impatient panted on his neck behind:) + To vengeance rising with a sudden spring, + He hoped the conquest of the Cretan king. + The wary Cretan, as his foe drew near, + Full on his throat discharged the forceful spear: + Beneath the chin the point was seen to glide, + And glitter'd, extant at the further side. + As when the mountain-oak, or poplar tall, + Or pine, fit mast for some great admiral, + Groans to the oft-heaved axe, with many a wound, + Then spreads a length of ruin o'er the ground: + So sunk proud Asius in that dreadful day, + And stretch'd before his much-loved coursers lay. + He grinds the dust distain'd with streaming gore, + And, fierce in death, lies foaming on the shore. + Deprived of motion, stiff with stupid fear, + Stands all aghast his trembling charioteer, + Nor shuns the foe, nor turns the steeds away, + But falls transfix'd, an unresisting prey: + Pierced by Antilochus, he pants beneath + The stately car, and labours out his breath. + Thus Asius' steeds (their mighty master gone) + Remain the prize of Nestor's youthful son. + + Stabb'd at the sight, Deiphobus drew nigh, + And made, with force, the vengeful weapon fly. + The Cretan saw; and, stooping, caused to glance + From his slope shield the disappointed lance. + Beneath the spacious targe, (a blazing round, + Thick with bull-hides and brazen orbits bound, + On his raised arm by two strong braces stay'd,) + He lay collected in defensive shade. + O'er his safe head the javelin idly sung, + And on the tinkling verge more faintly rung. + Even then the spear the vigorous arm confess'd, + And pierced, obliquely, king Hypsenor's breast: + Warm'd in his liver, to the ground it bore + The chief, his people's guardian now no more! + + "Not unattended (the proud Trojan cries) + Nor unrevenged, lamented Asius lies: + For thee, through hell's black portals stand display'd, + This mate shall joy thy melancholy shade." + + Heart-piercing anguish, at the haughty boast, + Touch'd every Greek, but Nestor's son the most. + Grieved as he was, his pious arms attend, + And his broad buckler shields his slaughter'd friend: + Till sad Mecistheus and Alastor bore + His honour'd body to the tented shore. + + Nor yet from fight Idomeneus withdraws; + Resolved to perish in his country's cause, + Or find some foe, whom heaven and he shall doom + To wail his fate in death's eternal gloom. + He sees Alcathous in the front aspire: + Great AEsyetes was the hero's sire; + His spouse Hippodame, divinely fair, + Anchises' eldest hope, and darling care: + Who charm'd her parents' and her husband's heart + With beauty, sense, and every work of art: + He once of Ilion's youth the loveliest boy, + The fairest she of all the fair of Troy. + By Neptune now the hapless hero dies, + Who covers with a cloud those beauteous eyes, + And fetters every limb: yet bent to meet + His fate he stands; nor shuns the lance of Crete. + Fix'd as some column, or deep-rooted oak, + While the winds sleep; his breast received the stroke. + Before the ponderous stroke his corslet yields, + Long used to ward the death in fighting fields. + The riven armour sends a jarring sound; + His labouring heart heaves with so strong a bound, + The long lance shakes, and vibrates in the wound; + Fast flowing from its source, as prone he lay, + Life's purple tide impetuous gush'd away. + + Then Idomen, insulting o'er the slain: + "Behold, Deiphobus! nor vaunt in vain: + See! on one Greek three Trojan ghosts attend; + This, my third victim, to the shades I send. + Approaching now thy boasted might approve, + And try the prowess of the seed of Jove. + From Jove, enamour'd of a mortal dame, + Great Minos, guardian of his country, came: + Deucalion, blameless prince, was Minos' heir; + His first-born I, the third from Jupiter: + O'er spacious Crete, and her bold sons, I reign, + And thence my ships transport me through the main: + Lord of a host, o'er all my host I shine, + A scourge to thee, thy father, and thy line." + + The Trojan heard; uncertain or to meet, + Alone, with venturous arms the king of Crete, + Or seek auxiliar force; at length decreed + To call some hero to partake the deed, + Forthwith AEneas rises to his thought: + For him in Troy's remotest lines he sought, + Where he, incensed at partial Priam, stands, + And sees superior posts in meaner hands. + To him, ambitious of so great an aid, + The bold Deiphobus approach'd, and said: + + "Now, Trojan prince, employ thy pious arms, + If e'er thy bosom felt fair honour's charms. + Alcathous dies, thy brother and thy friend; + Come, and the warrior's loved remains defend. + Beneath his cares thy early youth was train'd, + One table fed you, and one roof contain'd. + This deed to fierce Idomeneus we owe; + Haste, and revenge it on th' insulting foe." + + AEneas heard, and for a space resign'd + To tender pity all his manly mind; + Then rising in his rage, he burns to fight: + The Greek awaits him with collected might. + As the fell boar, on some rough mountain's head, + Arm'd with wild terrors, and to slaughter bred, + When the loud rustics rise, and shout from far, + Attends the tumult, and expects the war; + O'er his bent back the bristly horrors rise; + Fires stream in lightning from his sanguine eyes, + His foaming tusks both dogs and men engage; + But most his hunters rouse his mighty rage: + So stood Idomeneus, his javelin shook, + And met the Trojan with a lowering look. + Antilochus, Deipyrus, were near, + The youthful offspring of the god of war, + Merion, and Aphareus, in field renown'd: + To these the warrior sent his voice around. + "Fellows in arms! your timely aid unite; + Lo, great AEneas rushes to the fight: + Sprung from a god, and more than mortal bold; + He fresh in youth, and I in arms grown old. + Else should this hand, this hour decide the strife, + The great dispute, of glory, or of life." + + He spoke, and all, as with one soul, obey'd; + Their lifted bucklers cast a dreadful shade + Around the chief. AEneas too demands + Th' assisting forces of his native bands; + Paris, Deiphobus, Agenor, join; + (Co-aids and captains of the Trojan line;) + In order follow all th' embodied train, + Like Ida's flocks proceeding o'er the plain; + Before his fleecy care, erect and bold, + Stalks the proud ram, the father of the bold. + With joy the swain surveys them, as he leads + To the cool fountains, through the well-known meads: + So joys AEneas, as his native band + Moves on in rank, and stretches o'er the land. + + Round dread Alcathous now the battle rose; + On every side the steely circle grows; + Now batter'd breast-plates and hack'd helmets ring, + And o'er their heads unheeded javelins sing. + Above the rest, two towering chiefs appear, + There great Idomeneus, AEneas here. + Like gods of war, dispensing fate, they stood, + And burn'd to drench the ground with mutual blood. + The Trojan weapon whizz'd along in air; + The Cretan saw, and shunn'd the brazen spear: + Sent from an arm so strong, the missive wood + Stuck deep in earth, and quiver'd where it stood. + But OEnomas received the Cretan's stroke; + The forceful spear his hollow corslet broke, + It ripp'd his belly with a ghastly wound, + And roll'd the smoking entrails on the ground. + Stretch'd on the plain, he sobs away his breath, + And, furious, grasps the bloody dust in death. + The victor from his breast the weapon tears; + His spoils he could not, for the shower of spears. + Though now unfit an active war to wage, + Heavy with cumbrous arms, stiff with cold age, + His listless limbs unable for the course, + In standing fight he yet maintains his force; + Till faint with labour, and by foes repell'd, + His tired slow steps he drags from off the field. + Deiphobus beheld him as he pass'd, + And, fired with hate, a parting javelin cast: + The javelin err'd, but held its course along, + And pierced Ascalaphus, the brave and young: + The son of Mars fell gasping on the ground, + And gnash'd the dust, all bloody with his wound. + + Nor knew the furious father of his fall; + High-throned amidst the great Olympian hall, + On golden clouds th' immortal synod sate; + Detain'd from bloody war by Jove and Fate. + + Now, where in dust the breathless hero lay, + For slain Ascalaphus commenced the fray, + Deiphobus to seize his helmet flies, + And from his temples rends the glittering prize; + Valiant as Mars, Meriones drew near, + And on his loaded arm discharged his spear: + He drops the weight, disabled with the pain; + The hollow helmet rings against the plain. + Swift as a vulture leaping on his prey, + From his torn arm the Grecian rent away + The reeking javelin, and rejoin'd his friends. + His wounded brother good Polites tends; + Around his waist his pious arms he threw, + And from the rage of battle gently drew: + Him his swift coursers, on his splendid car, + Rapt from the lessening thunder of the war; + To Troy they drove him, groaning from the shore, + And sprinkling, as he pass'd, the sands with gore. + + Meanwhile fresh slaughter bathes the sanguine ground, + Heaps fall on heaps, and heaven and earth resound. + Bold Aphareus by great AEneas bled; + As toward the chief he turn'd his daring head, + He pierced his throat; the bending head, depress'd + Beneath his helmet, nods upon his breast; + His shield reversed o'er the fallen warrior lies, + And everlasting slumber seals his eyes. + Antilochus, as Thoon turn'd him round, + Transpierced his back with a dishonest wound: + The hollow vein, that to the neck extends + Along the chine, his eager javelin rends: + Supine he falls, and to his social train + Spreads his imploring arms, but spreads in vain. + Th' exulting victor, leaping where he lay, + From his broad shoulders tore the spoils away; + His time observed; for closed by foes around, + On all sides thick the peals of arms resound. + His shield emboss'd the ringing storm sustains, + But he impervious and untouch'd remains. + (Great Neptune's care preserved from hostile rage + This youth, the joy of Nestor's glorious age.) + In arms intrepid, with the first he fought, + Faced every foe, and every danger sought; + His winged lance, resistless as the wind, + Obeys each motion of the master's mind! + Restless it flies, impatient to be free, + And meditates the distant enemy. + The son of Asius, Adamas, drew near, + And struck his target with the brazen spear + Fierce in his front: but Neptune wards the blow, + And blunts the javelin of th' eluded foe: + In the broad buckler half the weapon stood, + Splinter'd on earth flew half the broken wood. + Disarm'd, he mingled in the Trojan crew; + But Merion's spear o'ertook him as he flew, + Deep in the belly's rim an entrance found, + Where sharp the pang, and mortal is the wound. + Bending he fell, and doubled to the ground, + Lay panting. Thus an ox in fetters tied, + While death's strong pangs distend his labouring side, + His bulk enormous on the field displays; + His heaving heart beats thick as ebbing life decays. + The spear the conqueror from his body drew, + And death's dim shadows swarm before his view. + Next brave Deipyrus in dust was laid: + King Helenus waved high the Thracian blade, + And smote his temples with an arm so strong, + The helm fell off, and roll'd amid the throng: + There for some luckier Greek it rests a prize; + For dark in death the godlike owner lies! + Raging with grief, great Menelaus burns, + And fraught with vengeance, to the victor turns: + That shook the ponderous lance, in act to throw; + And this stood adverse with the bended bow: + Full on his breast the Trojan arrow fell, + But harmless bounded from the plated steel. + As on some ample barn's well harden'd floor, + (The winds collected at each open door,) + While the broad fan with force is whirl'd around, + Light leaps the golden grain, resulting from the ground: + So from the steel that guards Atrides' heart, + Repell'd to distance flies the bounding dart. + Atrides, watchful of the unwary foe, + Pierced with his lance the hand that grasp'd the bow. + And nailed it to the yew: the wounded hand + Trail'd the long lance that mark'd with blood the sand: + But good Agenor gently from the wound + The spear solicits, and the bandage bound; + A sling's soft wool, snatch'd from a soldier's side, + At once the tent and ligature supplied. + + Behold! Pisander, urged by fate's decree, + Springs through the ranks to fall, and fall by thee, + Great Menelaus! to enchance thy fame: + High-towering in the front, the warrior came. + First the sharp lance was by Atrides thrown; + The lance far distant by the winds was blown. + Nor pierced Pisander through Atrides' shield: + Pisander's spear fell shiver'd on the field. + Not so discouraged, to the future blind, + Vain dreams of conquest swell his haughty mind; + Dauntless he rushes where the Spartan lord + Like lightning brandish'd his far beaming sword. + His left arm high opposed the shining shield: + His right beneath, the cover'd pole-axe held; + (An olive's cloudy grain the handle made, + Distinct with studs, and brazen was the blade;) + This on the helm discharged a noble blow; + The plume dropp'd nodding to the plain below, + Shorn from the crest. Atrides waved his steel: + Deep through his front the weighty falchion fell; + The crashing bones before its force gave way; + In dust and blood the groaning hero lay: + Forced from their ghastly orbs, and spouting gore, + The clotted eye-balls tumble on the shore. + And fierce Atrides spurn'd him as he bled, + Tore off his arms, and, loud-exulting, said: + + "Thus, Trojans, thus, at length be taught to fear; + O race perfidious, who delight in war! + Already noble deeds ye have perform'd; + A princess raped transcends a navy storm'd: + In such bold feats your impious might approve, + Without th' assistance, or the fear of Jove. + The violated rites, the ravish'd dame; + Our heroes slaughter'd and our ships on flame, + Crimes heap'd on crimes, shall bend your glory down, + And whelm in ruins yon flagitious town. + O thou, great father! lord of earth and skies, + Above the thought of man, supremely wise! + If from thy hand the fates of mortals flow, + From whence this favour to an impious foe? + A godless crew, abandon'd and unjust, + Still breathing rapine, violence, and lust? + The best of things, beyond their measure, cloy; + Sleep's balmy blessing, love's endearing joy; + The feast, the dance; whate'er mankind desire, + Even the sweet charms of sacred numbers tire. + But Troy for ever reaps a dire delight + In thirst of slaughter, and in lust of fight." + + This said, he seized (while yet the carcase heaved) + The bloody armour, which his train received: + Then sudden mix'd among the warring crew, + And the bold son of Pylaemenes slew. + Harpalion had through Asia travell'd far, + Following his martial father to the war: + Through filial love he left his native shore, + Never, ah, never to behold it more! + His unsuccessful spear he chanced to fling + Against the target of the Spartan king; + Thus of his lance disarm'd, from death he flies, + And turns around his apprehensive eyes. + Him, through the hip transpiercing as he fled, + The shaft of Merion mingled with the dead. + Beneath the bone the glancing point descends, + And, driving down, the swelling bladder rends: + Sunk in his sad companions' arms he lay, + And in short pantings sobb'd his soul away; + (Like some vile worm extended on the ground;) + While life's red torrent gush'd from out the wound. + + Him on his car the Paphlagonian train + In slow procession bore from off the plain. + The pensive father, father now no more! + Attends the mournful pomp along the shore; + And unavailing tears profusely shed; + And, unrevenged, deplored his offspring dead. + + Paris from far the moving sight beheld, + With pity soften'd and with fury swell'd: + His honour'd host, a youth of matchless grace, + And loved of all the Paphlagonian race! + With his full strength he bent his angry bow, + And wing'd the feather'd vengeance at the foe. + A chief there was, the brave Euchenor named, + For riches much, and more for virtue famed. + Who held his seat in Corinth's stately town; + Polydus' son, a seer of old renown. + Oft had the father told his early doom, + By arms abroad, or slow disease at home: + He climb'd his vessel, prodigal of breath, + And chose the certain glorious path to death. + Beneath his ear the pointed arrow went; + The soul came issuing at the narrow vent: + His limbs, unnerved, drop useless on the ground, + And everlasting darkness shades him round. + + Nor knew great Hector how his legions yield, + (Wrapp'd in the cloud and tumult of the field:) + Wide on the left the force of Greece commands, + And conquest hovers o'er th' Achaian bands; + With such a tide superior virtue sway'd, + And he that shakes the solid earth gave aid. + But in the centre Hector fix'd remain'd, + Where first the gates were forced, and bulwarks gain'd; + There, on the margin of the hoary deep, + (Their naval station where the Ajaces keep. + And where low walls confine the beating tides, + Whose humble barrier scarce the foe divides; + Where late in fight both foot and horse engaged, + And all the thunder of the battle raged,) + There join'd, the whole Boeotian strength remains, + The proud Iaonians with their sweeping trains, + Locrians and Phthians, and th' Epaean force; + But join'd, repel not Hector's fiery course. + The flower of Athens, Stichius, Phidas, led; + Bias and great Menestheus at their head: + Meges the strong the Epaean bands controll'd, + And Dracius prudent, and Amphion bold: + The Phthians, Medon, famed for martial might, + And brave Podarces, active in the fight. + This drew from Phylacus his noble line; + Iphiclus' son: and that (Oileus) thine: + (Young Ajax' brother, by a stolen embrace; + He dwelt far distant from his native place, + By his fierce step-dame from his father's reign + Expell'd and exiled for her brother slain:) + These rule the Phthians, and their arms employ, + Mix'd with Boeotians, on the shores of Troy. + + Now side by side, with like unwearied care, + Each Ajax laboured through the field of war: + So when two lordly bulls, with equal toil, + Force the bright ploughshare through the fallow soil, + Join'd to one yoke, the stubborn earth they tear, + And trace large furrows with the shining share; + O'er their huge limbs the foam descends in snow, + And streams of sweat down their sour foreheads flow. + A train of heroes followed through the field, + Who bore by turns great Ajax' sevenfold shield; + Whene'er he breathed, remissive of his might, + Tired with the incessant slaughters of the fight. + No following troops his brave associate grace: + In close engagement an unpractised race, + The Locrian squadrons nor the javelin wield, + Nor bear the helm, nor lift the moony shield; + But skill'd from far the flying shaft to wing, + Or whirl the sounding pebble from the sling, + Dexterous with these they aim a certain wound, + Or fell the distant warrior to the ground. + Thus in the van the Telamonian train, + Throng'd in bright arms, a pressing fight maintain: + Far in the rear the Locrian archers lie, + Whose stones and arrows intercept the sky, + The mingled tempest on the foes they pour; + Troy's scattering orders open to the shower. + + Now had the Greeks eternal fame acquired, + And the gall'd Ilians to their walls retired; + But sage Polydamas, discreetly brave, + Address'd great Hector, and this counsel gave: + + "Though great in all, thou seem'st averse to lend + Impartial audience to a faithful friend; + To gods and men thy matchless worth is known, + And every art of glorious war thy own; + But in cool thought and counsel to excel, + How widely differs this from warring well! + Content with what the bounteous gods have given, + Seek not alone to engross the gifts of Heaven. + To some the powers of bloody war belong, + To some sweet music and the charm of song; + To few, and wondrous few, has Jove assign'd + A wise, extensive, all-considering mind; + Their guardians these, the nations round confess, + And towns and empires for their safety bless. + If Heaven have lodged this virtue in my breast, + Attend, O Hector! what I judge the best, + See, as thou mov'st, on dangers dangers spread, + And war's whole fury burns around thy head. + Behold! distress'd within yon hostile wall, + How many Trojans yield, disperse, or fall! + What troops, out-number'd, scarce the war maintain! + And what brave heroes at the ships lie slain! + Here cease thy fury: and, the chiefs and kings + Convoked to council, weigh the sum of things. + Whether (the gods succeeding our desires) + To yon tall ships to bear the Trojan fires; + Or quit the fleet, and pass unhurt away, + Contented with the conquest of the day. + I fear, I fear, lest Greece, not yet undone, + Pay the large debt of last revolving sun; + Achilles, great Achilles, yet remains + On yonder decks, and yet o'erlooks the plains!" + + The counsel pleased; and Hector, with a bound, + Leap'd from his chariot on the trembling ground; + Swift as he leap'd his clanging arms resound. + "To guard this post (he cried) thy art employ, + And here detain the scatter'd youth of Troy; + Where yonder heroes faint, I bend my way, + And hasten back to end the doubtful day." + + This said, the towering chief prepares to go, + Shakes his white plumes that to the breezes flow, + And seems a moving mountain topp'd with snow. + Through all his host, inspiring force, he flies, + And bids anew the martial thunder rise. + To Panthus' son, at Hector's high command + Haste the bold leaders of the Trojan band: + But round the battlements, and round the plain, + For many a chief he look'd, but look'd in vain; + Deiphobus, nor Helenus the seer, + Nor Asius' son, nor Asius' self appear: + For these were pierced with many a ghastly wound, + Some cold in death, some groaning on the ground; + Some low in dust, (a mournful object) lay; + High on the wall some breathed their souls away. + + Far on the left, amid the throng he found + (Cheering the troops, and dealing deaths around) + The graceful Paris; whom, with fury moved, + Opprobrious thus, th' impatient chief reproved: + + "Ill-fated Paris! slave to womankind, + As smooth of face as fraudulent of mind! + Where is Deiphobus, where Asius gone? + The godlike father, and th' intrepid son? + The force of Helenus, dispensing fate; + And great Othryoneus, so fear'd of late? + Black fate hang's o'er thee from th' avenging gods, + Imperial Troy from her foundations nods; + Whelm'd in thy country's ruin shalt thou fall, + And one devouring vengeance swallow all." + + When Paris thus: "My brother and my friend, + Thy warm impatience makes thy tongue offend, + In other battles I deserved thy blame, + Though then not deedless, nor unknown to fame: + But since yon rampart by thy arms lay low, + I scatter'd slaughter from my fatal bow. + The chiefs you seek on yonder shore lie slain; + Of all those heroes, two alone remain; + Deiphobus, and Helenus the seer, + Each now disabled by a hostile spear. + Go then, successful, where thy soul inspires: + This heart and hand shall second all thy fires: + What with this arm I can, prepare to know, + Till death for death be paid, and blow for blow. + But 'tis not ours, with forces not our own + To combat: strength is of the gods alone." + These words the hero's angry mind assuage: + Then fierce they mingle where the thickest rage. + Around Polydamas, distain'd with blood, + Cebrion, Phalces, stern Orthaeus stood, + Palmus, with Polypoetes the divine, + And two bold brothers of Hippotion's line + (Who reach'd fair Ilion, from Ascania far, + The former day; the next engaged in war). + As when from gloomy clouds a whirlwind springs, + That bears Jove's thunder on its dreadful wings, + Wide o'er the blasted fields the tempest sweeps; + Then, gather'd, settles on the hoary deeps; + The afflicted deeps tumultuous mix and roar; + The waves behind impel the waves before, + Wide rolling, foaming high, and tumbling to the shore: + Thus rank on rank, the thick battalions throng, + Chief urged on chief, and man drove man along. + Far o'er the plains, in dreadful order bright, + The brazen arms reflect a beamy light: + Full in the blazing van great Hector shined, + Like Mars commission'd to confound mankind. + Before him flaming his enormous shield, + Like the broad sun, illumined all the field; + His nodding helm emits a streamy ray; + His piercing eyes through all the battle stray, + And, while beneath his targe he flash'd along, + Shot terrors round, that wither'd e'en the strong. + + Thus stalk'd he, dreadful; death was in his look: + Whole nations fear'd; but not an Argive shook. + The towering Ajax, with an ample stride, + Advanced the first, and thus the chief defied: + + "Hector! come on; thy empty threats forbear; + 'Tis not thy arm, 'tis thundering Jove we fear: + The skill of war to us not idly given, + Lo! Greece is humbled, not by Troy, but Heaven. + Vain are the hopes that haughty mind imparts, + To force our fleet: the Greeks have hands and hearts. + Long ere in flames our lofty navy fall, + Your boasted city, and your god-built wall, + Shall sink beneath us, smoking on the ground; + And spread a long unmeasured ruin round. + The time shall come, when, chased along the plain, + Even thou shalt call on Jove, and call in vain; + Even thou shalt wish, to aid thy desperate course, + The wings of falcons for thy flying horse; + Shalt run, forgetful of a warrior's fame, + While clouds of friendly dust conceal thy shame." + + As thus he spoke, behold, in open view, + On sounding wings a dexter eagle flew. + To Jove's glad omen all the Grecians rise, + And hail, with shouts, his progress through the skies: + Far-echoing clamours bound from side to side; + They ceased; and thus the chief of Troy replied: + + "From whence this menace, this insulting strain? + Enormous boaster! doom'd to vaunt in vain. + So may the gods on Hector life bestow, + (Not that short life which mortals lead below, + But such as those of Jove's high lineage born, + The blue-eyed maid, or he that gilds the morn,) + As this decisive day shall end the fame + Of Greece, and Argos be no more a name. + And thou, imperious! if thy madness wait + The lance of Hector, thou shalt meet thy fate: + That giant-corse, extended on the shore, + Shall largely feast the fowls with fat and gore." + + He said; and like a lion stalk'd along: + With shouts incessant earth and ocean rung, + Sent from his following host: the Grecian train + With answering thunders fill'd the echoing plain; + A shout that tore heaven's concave, and, above, + Shook the fix'd splendours of the throne of Jove. + + [Illustration: GREEK EARRINGS.] + + GREEK EARRINGS. + + + + + +BOOK XIV. + + +ARGUMENT.(231) + +JUNO DECEIVES JUPITER BY THE GIRDLE OF VENUS. + +Nestor, sitting at the table with Machaon, is alarmed with the increasing +clamour of war, and hastens to Agamemnon; on his way he meets that prince +with Diomed and Ulysses, whom he informs of the extremity of the danger. +Agamemnon proposes to make their escape by night, which Ulysses +withstands; to which Diomed adds his advice, that, wounded as they were, +they should go forth and encourage the army with their presence, which +advice is pursued. Juno, seeing the partiality of Jupiter to the Trojans, +forms a design to over-reach him: she sets off her charms with the utmost +care, and (the more surely to enchant him) obtains the magic girdle of +Venus. She then applies herself to the god of sleep, and, with some +difficulty, persuades him to seal the eyes of Jupiter: this done, she goes +to mount Ida, where the god, at first sight, is ravished with her beauty, +sinks in her embraces, and is laid asleep. Neptune takes advantage of his +slumber, and succours the Greeks: Hector is struck to the ground with a +prodigious stone by Ajax, and carried off from the battle: several actions +succeed, till the Trojans, much distressed, are obliged to give way: the +lesser Ajax signalizes himself in a particular manner. + + But not the genial feast, nor flowing bowl, + Could charm the cares of Nestor's watchful soul; + His startled ears the increasing cries attend; + Then thus, impatient, to his wounded friend: + + "What new alarm, divine Machaon, say, + What mix'd events attend this mighty day? + Hark! how the shouts divide, and how they meet, + And now come full, and thicken to the fleet! + Here with the cordial draught dispel thy care, + Let Hecamede the strengthening bath prepare, + Refresh thy wound, and cleanse the clotted gore; + While I the adventures of the day explore." + + He said: and, seizing Thrasymedes' shield, + (His valiant offspring,) hasten'd to the field; + (That day the son his father's buckler bore;) + Then snatch'd a lance, and issued from the door. + Soon as the prospect open'd to his view, + His wounded eyes the scene of sorrow knew; + Dire disarray! the tumult of the fight, + The wall in ruins, and the Greeks in flight. + As when old ocean's silent surface sleeps, + The waves just heaving on the purple deeps: + While yet the expected tempest hangs on high, + Weighs down the cloud, and blackens in the sky, + The mass of waters will no wind obey; + Jove sends one gust, and bids them roll away. + While wavering counsels thus his mind engage, + Fluctuates in doubtful thought the Pylian sage, + To join the host, or to the general haste; + Debating long, he fixes on the last: + Yet, as he moves, the sight his bosom warms, + The field rings dreadful with the clang of arms, + The gleaming falchions flash, the javelins fly; + Blows echo blows, and all or kill or die. + + Him, in his march, the wounded princes meet, + By tardy steps ascending from the fleet: + The king of men, Ulysses the divine, + And who to Tydeus owes his noble line.(232) + (Their ships at distance from the battle stand, + In lines advanced along the shelving strand: + Whose bay, the fleet unable to contain + At length; beside the margin of the main, + Rank above rank, the crowded ships they moor: + Who landed first, lay highest on the shore.) + Supported on the spears, they took their way, + Unfit to fight, but anxious for the day. + Nestor's approach alarm'd each Grecian breast, + Whom thus the general of the host address'd: + + "O grace and glory of the Achaian name; + What drives thee, Nestor, from the field of fame? + Shall then proud Hector see his boast fulfill'd, + Our fleets in ashes, and our heroes kill'd? + Such was his threat, ah! now too soon made good, + On many a Grecian bosom writ in blood. + Is every heart inflamed with equal rage + Against your king, nor will one chief engage? + And have I lived to see with mournful eyes + In every Greek a new Achilles rise?" + + Gerenian Nestor then: "So fate has will'd; + And all-confirming time has fate fulfill'd. + Not he that thunders from the aerial bower, + Not Jove himself, upon the past has power. + The wall, our late inviolable bound, + And best defence, lies smoking on the ground: + Even to the ships their conquering arms extend, + And groans of slaughter'd Greeks to heaven ascend. + On speedy measures then employ your thought + In such distress! if counsel profit aught: + Arms cannot much: though Mars our souls incite, + These gaping wounds withhold us from the fight." + + To him the monarch: "That our army bends, + That Troy triumphant our high fleet ascends, + And that the rampart, late our surest trust + And best defence, lies smoking in the dust; + All this from Jove's afflictive hand we bear, + Who, far from Argos, wills our ruin here. + Past are the days when happier Greece was blest, + And all his favour, all his aid confess'd; + Now heaven averse, our hands from battle ties, + And lifts the Trojan glory to the skies. + Cease we at length to waste our blood in vain, + And launch what ships lie nearest to the main; + Leave these at anchor, till the coming night: + Then, if impetuous Troy forbear the fight, + Bring all to sea, and hoist each sail for flight. + Better from evils, well foreseen, to run, + Than perish in the danger we may shun." + + Thus he. The sage Ulysses thus replied, + While anger flash'd from his disdainful eyes: + "What shameful words (unkingly as thou art) + Fall from that trembling tongue and timorous heart? + Oh were thy sway the curse of meaner powers, + And thou the shame of any host but ours! + A host, by Jove endued with martial might, + And taught to conquer, or to fall in fight: + Adventurous combats and bold wars to wage, + Employ'd our youth, and yet employs our age. + And wilt thou thus desert the Trojan plain? + And have whole streams of blood been spilt in vain? + In such base sentence if thou couch thy fear, + Speak it in whispers, lest a Greek should hear. + Lives there a man so dead to fame, who dares + To think such meanness, or the thought declares? + And comes it even from him whose sovereign sway + The banded legions of all Greece obey? + Is this a general's voice that calls to flight, + While war hangs doubtful, while his soldiers fight? + What more could Troy? What yet their fate denies + Thou givest the foe: all Greece becomes their prize. + No more the troops (our hoisted sails in view, + Themselves abandon'd) shall the fight pursue; + But thy ships flying, with despair shall see; + And owe destruction to a prince like thee." + + "Thy just reproofs (Atrides calm replies) + Like arrows pierce me, for thy words are wise. + Unwilling as I am to lose the host, + I force not Greece to quit this hateful coast; + Glad I submit, whoe'er, or young, or old, + Aught, more conducive to our weal, unfold." + + Tydides cut him short, and thus began: + "Such counsel if you seek, behold the man + Who boldly gives it, and what he shall say, + Young though he be, disdain not to obey: + A youth, who from the mighty Tydeus springs, + May speak to councils and assembled kings. + Hear then in me the great OEnides' son, + Whose honoured dust (his race of glory run) + Lies whelm'd in ruins of the Theban wall; + Brave in his life, and glorious in his fall. + With three bold sons was generous Prothous bless'd, + Who Pleuron's walls and Calydon possess'd; + Melas and Agrius, but (who far surpass'd + The rest in courage) OEneus was the last. + From him, my sire. From Calydon expell'd, + He pass'd to Argos, and in exile dwell'd; + The monarch's daughter there (so Jove ordain'd) + He won, and flourish'd where Adrastus reign'd; + There, rich in fortune's gifts, his acres till'd, + Beheld his vines their liquid harvest yield, + And numerous flocks that whiten'd all the field. + Such Tydeus was, the foremost once in fame! + Nor lives in Greece a stranger to his name. + Then, what for common good my thoughts inspire, + Attend, and in the son respect the sire. + Though sore of battle, though with wounds oppress'd, + Let each go forth, and animate the rest, + Advance the glory which he cannot share, + Though not partaker, witness of the war. + But lest new wounds on wounds o'erpower us quite, + Beyond the missile javelin's sounding flight, + Safe let us stand; and, from the tumult far, + Inspire the ranks, and rule the distant war." + + He added not: the listening kings obey, + Slow moving on; Atrides leads the way. + The god of ocean (to inflame their rage) + Appears a warrior furrowed o'er with age; + Press'd in his own, the general's hand he took, + And thus the venerable hero spoke: + + "Atrides! lo! with what disdainful eye + Achilles sees his country's forces fly; + Blind, impious man! whose anger is his guide, + Who glories in unutterable pride. + So may he perish, so may Jove disclaim + The wretch relentless, and o'erwhelm with shame! + But Heaven forsakes not thee: o'er yonder sands + Soon shall thou view the scattered Trojan bands + Fly diverse; while proud kings, and chiefs renown'd, + Driven heaps on heaps, with clouds involved around + Of rolling dust, their winged wheels employ + To hide their ignominious heads in Troy." + + He spoke, then rush'd amid the warrior crew, + And sent his voice before him as he flew, + Loud, as the shout encountering armies yield + When twice ten thousand shake the labouring field; + Such was the voice, and such the thundering sound + Of him whose trident rends the solid ground. + Each Argive bosom beats to meet the fight, + And grisly war appears a pleasing sight. + + Meantime Saturnia from Olympus' brow, + High-throned in gold, beheld the fields below; + With joy the glorious conflict she survey'd, + Where her great brother gave the Grecians aid. + But placed aloft, on Ida's shady height + She sees her Jove, and trembles at the sight. + Jove to deceive, what methods shall she try, + What arts, to blind his all-beholding eye? + At length she trusts her power; resolved to prove + The old, yet still successful, cheat of love; + Against his wisdom to oppose her charms, + And lull the lord of thunders in her arms. + + Swift to her bright apartment she repairs, + Sacred to dress and beauty's pleasing cares: + With skill divine had Vulcan form'd the bower, + Safe from access of each intruding power. + Touch'd with her secret key, the doors unfold: + Self-closed, behind her shut the valves of gold. + Here first she bathes; and round her body pours + Soft oils of fragrance, and ambrosial showers: + The winds, perfumed, the balmy gale convey + Through heaven, through earth, and all the aerial way: + Spirit divine! whose exhalation greets + The sense of gods with more than mortal sweets. + Thus while she breathed of heaven, with decent pride + Her artful hands the radiant tresses tied; + Part on her head in shining ringlets roll'd, + Part o'er her shoulders waved like melted gold. + Around her next a heavenly mantle flow'd, + That rich with Pallas' labour'd colours glow'd: + Large clasps of gold the foldings gather'd round, + A golden zone her swelling bosom bound. + Far-beaming pendants tremble in her ear, + Each gem illumined with a triple star. + Then o'er her head she cast a veil more white + Than new-fallen snow, and dazzling as the light. + Last her fair feet celestial sandals grace. + Thus issuing radiant with majestic pace, + Forth from the dome the imperial goddess moves, + And calls the mother of the smiles and loves. + + "How long (to Venus thus apart she cried) + Shall human strife celestial minds divide? + Ah yet, will Venus aid Saturnia's joy, + And set aside the cause of Greece and Troy?" + + "Let heaven's dread empress (Cytheraea said) + Speak her request, and deem her will obey'd." + + "Then grant me (said the queen) those conquering charms, + That power, which mortals and immortals warms, + That love, which melts mankind in fierce desires, + And burns the sons of heaven with sacred fires! + + "For lo! I haste to those remote abodes, + Where the great parents, (sacred source of gods!) + Ocean and Tethys their old empire keep, + On the last limits of the land and deep. + In their kind arms my tender years were past; + What time old Saturn, from Olympus cast, + Of upper heaven to Jove resign'd the reign, + Whelm'd under the huge mass of earth and main. + For strife, I hear, has made the union cease, + Which held so long that ancient pair in peace. + What honour, and what love, shall I obtain, + If I compose those fatal feuds again; + Once more their minds in mutual ties engage, + And, what my youth has owed, repay their age!" + + She said. With awe divine, the queen of love + Obey'd the sister and the wife of Jove; + And from her fragrant breast the zone embraced,(233) + With various skill and high embroidery graced. + In this was every art, and every charm, + To win the wisest, and the coldest warm: + Fond love, the gentle vow, the gay desire, + The kind deceit, the still-reviving fire, + Persuasive speech, and the more persuasive sighs, + Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes. + This on her hand the Cyprian Goddess laid: + "Take this, and with it all thy wish;" she said. + With smiles she took the charm; and smiling press'd + The powerful cestus to her snowy breast. + + Then Venus to the courts of Jove withdrew; + Whilst from Olympus pleased Saturnia flew. + O'er high Pieria thence her course she bore, + O'er fair Emathia's ever-pleasing shore, + O'er Hemus' hills with snows eternal crown'd; + Nor once her flying foot approach'd the ground. + Then taking wing from Athos' lofty steep, + She speeds to Lemnos o'er the rolling deep, + And seeks the cave of Death's half-brother, Sleep.(234) + + "Sweet pleasing Sleep! (Saturnia thus began) + Who spread'st thy empire o'er each god and man; + If e'er obsequious to thy Juno's will, + O power of slumbers! hear, and favour still. + Shed thy soft dews on Jove's immortal eyes, + While sunk in love's entrancing joys he lies. + A splendid footstool, and a throne, that shine + With gold unfading, Somnus, shall be thine; + The work of Vulcan; to indulge thy ease, + When wine and feasts thy golden humours please." + + "Imperial dame (the balmy power replies), + Great Saturn's heir, and empress of the skies! + O'er other gods I spread my easy chain; + The sire of all, old Ocean, owns my reign. + And his hush'd waves lie silent on the main. + But how, unbidden, shall I dare to steep + Jove's awful temples in the dew of sleep? + Long since, too venturous, at thy bold command, + On those eternal lids I laid my hand; + What time, deserting Ilion's wasted plain, + His conquering son, Alcides, plough'd the main. + When lo! the deeps arise, the tempests roar, + And drive the hero to the Coan shore: + Great Jove, awaking, shook the blest abodes + With rising wrath, and tumbled gods on gods; + Me chief he sought, and from the realms on high + Had hurl'd indignant to the nether sky, + But gentle Night, to whom I fled for aid, + (The friend of earth and heaven,) her wings display'd; + Impower'd the wrath of gods and men to tame, + Even Jove revered the venerable dame." + + "Vain are thy fears (the queen of heaven replies, + And, speaking, rolls her large majestic eyes); + Think'st thou that Troy has Jove's high favour won, + Like great Alcides, his all-conquering son? + Hear, and obey the mistress of the skies, + Nor for the deed expect a vulgar prize; + For know, thy loved-one shall be ever thine, + The youngest Grace, Pasithae the divine."(235) + + "Swear then (he said) by those tremendous floods + That roar through hell, and bind the invoking gods: + Let the great parent earth one hand sustain, + And stretch the other o'er the sacred main: + Call the black Titans, that with Chronos dwell, + To hear and witness from the depths of hell; + That she, my loved-one, shall be ever mine, + The youngest Grace, Pasithae the divine." + + The queen assents, and from the infernal bowers + Invokes the sable subtartarean powers, + And those who rule the inviolable floods, + Whom mortals name the dread Titanian gods. + + [Illustration: SLEEP ESCAPING FROM THE WRATH OF JUPITER.] + + SLEEP ESCAPING FROM THE WRATH OF JUPITER. + + + Then swift as wind, o'er Lemnos' smoky isle + They wing their way, and Imbrus' sea-beat soil; + Through air, unseen, involved in darkness glide, + And light on Lectos, on the point of Ide: + (Mother of savages, whose echoing hills + Are heard resounding with a hundred rills:) + Fair Ida trembles underneath the god; + Hush'd are her mountains, and her forests nod. + There on a fir, whose spiry branches rise + To join its summit to the neighbouring skies; + Dark in embowering shade, conceal'd from sight, + Sat Sleep, in likeness of the bird of night. + (Chalcis his name by those of heavenly birth, + But call'd Cymindis by the race of earth.) + + To Ida's top successful Juno flies; + Great Jove surveys her with desiring eyes: + The god, whose lightning sets the heavens on fire, + Through all his bosom feels the fierce desire; + Fierce as when first by stealth he seized her charms, + Mix'd with her soul, and melted in her arms: + Fix'd on her eyes he fed his eager look, + Then press'd her hand, and thus with transport spoke: + + "Why comes my goddess from the ethereal sky, + And not her steeds and flaming chariot nigh?" + + Then she--"I haste to those remote abodes + Where the great parents of the deathless gods, + The reverend Ocean and gray Tethys, reign, + On the last limits of the land and main. + I visit these, to whose indulgent cares + I owe the nursing of my tender years: + For strife, I hear, has made that union cease + Which held so long that ancient pair in peace. + The steeds, prepared my chariot to convey + O'er earth and seas, and through the aerial way, + Wait under Ide: of thy superior power + To ask consent, I leave the Olympian bower; + Nor seek, unknown to thee, the sacred cells + Deep under seas, where hoary Ocean dwells." + + "For that (said Jove) suffice another day! + But eager love denies the least delay. + Let softer cares the present hour employ, + And be these moments sacred all to joy. + Ne'er did my soul so strong a passion prove, + Or for an earthly, or a heavenly love: + Not when I press'd Ixion's matchless dame, + Whence rose Pirithous like the gods in fame: + Not when fair Danae felt the shower of gold + Stream into life, whence Perseus brave and bold. + Not thus I burn'd for either Theban dame: + (Bacchus from this, from that Alcides came:) + Nor Phoenix' daughter, beautiful and young, + Whence godlike Rhadamanth and Minos sprung.(236) + Not thus I burn'd for fair Latona's face, + Nor comelier Ceres' more majestic grace. + Not thus even for thyself I felt desire, + As now my veins receive the pleasing fire." + + He spoke; the goddess with the charming eyes + Glows with celestial red, and thus replies: + "Is this a scene for love? On Ida's height, + Exposed to mortal and immortal sight! + Our joys profaned by each familiar eye; + The sport of heaven, and fable of the sky: + How shall I e'er review the blest abodes, + Or mix among the senate of the gods? + Shall I not think, that, with disorder'd charms, + All heaven beholds me recent from thy arms? + With skill divine has Vulcan form'd thy bower, + Sacred to love and to the genial hour; + If such thy will, to that recess retire, + In secret there indulge thy soft desire." + + She ceased; and, smiling with superior love, + Thus answer'd mild the cloud-compelling Jove: + "Nor god nor mortal shall our joys behold, + Shaded with clouds, and circumfused in gold; + Not even the sun, who darts through heaven his rays, + And whose broad eye the extended earth surveys." + + Gazing he spoke, and, kindling at the view, + His eager arms around the goddess threw. + Glad Earth perceives, and from her bosom pours + Unbidden herbs and voluntary flowers: + Thick new-born violets a soft carpet spread, + And clustering lotos swell'd the rising bed, + And sudden hyacinths the turf bestrow,(237) + And flamy crocus made the mountain glow + There golden clouds conceal the heavenly pair, + Steep'd in soft joys and circumfused with air; + Celestial dews, descending o'er the ground, + Perfume the mount, and breathe ambrosia round: + At length, with love and sleep's soft power oppress'd, + The panting thunderer nods, and sinks to rest. + + Now to the navy borne on silent wings, + To Neptune's ear soft Sleep his message brings; + Beside him sudden, unperceived, he stood, + And thus with gentle words address'd the god: + + "Now, Neptune! now, the important hour employ, + To check a while the haughty hopes of Troy: + While Jove yet rests, while yet my vapours shed + The golden vision round his sacred head; + For Juno's love, and Somnus' pleasing ties, + Have closed those awful and eternal eyes." + Thus having said, the power of slumber flew, + On human lids to drop the balmy dew. + Neptune, with zeal increased, renews his care, + And towering in the foremost ranks of war, + Indignant thus--"Oh once of martial fame! + O Greeks! if yet ye can deserve the name! + This half-recover'd day shall Troy obtain? + Shall Hector thunder at your ships again? + Lo! still he vaunts, and threats the fleet with fires, + While stern Achilles in his wrath retires. + One hero's loss too tamely you deplore, + Be still yourselves, and ye shall need no more. + Oh yet, if glory any bosom warms, + Brace on your firmest helms, and stand to arms: + His strongest spear each valiant Grecian wield, + Each valiant Grecian seize his broadest shield; + Let to the weak the lighter arms belong, + The ponderous targe be wielded by the strong. + Thus arm'd, not Hector shall our presence stay; + Myself, ye Greeks! myself will lead the way." + + [Illustration: GREEK SHIELD.] + + GREEK SHIELD. + + + The troops assent; their martial arms they change: + The busy chiefs their banded legions range. + The kings, though wounded, and oppress'd with pain, + With helpful hands themselves assist the train. + The strong and cumbrous arms the valiant wield, + The weaker warrior takes a lighter shield. + Thus sheath'd in shining brass, in bright array + The legions march, and Neptune leads the way: + His brandish'd falchion flames before their eyes, + Like lightning flashing through the frighted skies. + Clad in his might, the earth-shaking power appears; + Pale mortals tremble, and confess their fears. + + Troy's great defender stands alone unawed, + Arms his proud host, and dares oppose a god: + And lo! the god, and wondrous man, appear: + The sea's stern ruler there, and Hector here. + The roaring main, at her great master's call, + Rose in huge ranks, and form'd a watery wall + Around the ships: seas hanging o'er the shores, + Both armies join: earth thunders, ocean roars. + Not half so loud the bellowing deeps resound, + When stormy winds disclose the dark profound; + Less loud the winds that from the AEolian hall + Roar through the woods, and make whole forests fall; + Less loud the woods, when flames in torrents pour, + Catch the dry mountain, and its shades devour; + With such a rage the meeting hosts are driven, + And such a clamour shakes the sounding heaven. + The first bold javelin, urged by Hector's force, + Direct at Ajax' bosom winged its course; + But there no pass the crossing belts afford, + (One braced his shield, and one sustain'd his sword.) + Then back the disappointed Trojan drew, + And cursed the lance that unavailing flew: + But 'scaped not Ajax; his tempestuous hand + A ponderous stone upheaving from the sand, + (Where heaps laid loose beneath the warrior's feet, + Or served to ballast, or to prop the fleet,) + Toss'd round and round, the missive marble flings; + On the razed shield the fallen ruin rings, + Full on his breast and throat with force descends; + Nor deaden'd there its giddy fury spends, + But whirling on, with many a fiery round, + Smokes in the dust, and ploughs into the ground. + As when the bolt, red-hissing from above, + Darts on the consecrated plant of Jove, + The mountain-oak in flaming ruin lies, + Black from the blow, and smokes of sulphur rise; + Stiff with amaze the pale beholders stand, + And own the terrors of the almighty hand! + So lies great Hector prostrate on the shore; + His slacken'd hand deserts the lance it bore; + His following shield the fallen chief o'erspread; + Beneath his helmet dropp'd his fainting head; + His load of armour, sinking to the ground, + Clanks on the field, a dead and hollow sound. + Loud shouts of triumph fill the crowded plain; + Greece sees, in hope, Troy's great defender slain: + All spring to seize him; storms of arrows fly, + And thicker javelins intercept the sky. + In vain an iron tempest hisses round; + He lies protected, and without a wound.(238) + Polydamas, Agenor the divine, + The pious warrior of Anchises' line, + And each bold leader of the Lycian band, + With covering shields (a friendly circle) stand, + His mournful followers, with assistant care, + The groaning hero to his chariot bear; + His foaming coursers, swifter than the wind, + Speed to the town, and leave the war behind. + + When now they touch'd the mead's enamell'd side, + Where gentle Xanthus rolls his easy tide, + With watery drops the chief they sprinkle round, + Placed on the margin of the flowery ground. + Raised on his knees, he now ejects the gore; + Now faints anew, low-sinking on the shore; + By fits he breathes, half views the fleeting skies, + And seals again, by fits, his swimming eyes. + + Soon as the Greeks the chief's retreat beheld, + With double fury each invades the field. + Oilean Ajax first his javelin sped, + Pierced by whose point the son of Enops bled; + (Satnius the brave, whom beauteous Neis bore + Amidst her flocks on Satnio's silver shore;) + Struck through the belly's rim, the warrior lies + Supine, and shades eternal veil his eyes. + An arduous battle rose around the dead; + By turns the Greeks, by turns the Trojans bled. + + Fired with revenge, Polydamas drew near, + And at Prothoenor shook the trembling spear; + The driving javelin through his shoulder thrust, + He sinks to earth, and grasps the bloody dust. + "Lo thus (the victor cries) we rule the field, + And thus their arms the race of Panthus wield: + From this unerring hand there flies no dart + But bathes its point within a Grecian heart. + Propp'd on that spear to which thou owest thy fall, + Go, guide thy darksome steps to Pluto's dreary hall." + + He said, and sorrow touch'd each Argive breast: + The soul of Ajax burn'd above the rest. + As by his side the groaning warrior fell, + At the fierce foe he launch'd his piercing steel; + The foe, reclining, shunn'd the flying death; + But fate, Archilochus, demands thy breath: + Thy lofty birth no succour could impart, + The wings of death o'ertook thee on the dart; + Swift to perform heaven's fatal will, it fled + Full on the juncture of the neck and head, + And took the joint, and cut the nerves in twain: + The dropping head first tumbled on the plain. + So just the stroke, that yet the body stood + Erect, then roll'd along the sands in blood. + + "Here, proud Polydamas, here turn thy eyes! + (The towering Ajax loud-insulting cries:) + Say, is this chief extended on the plain + A worthy vengeance for Prothoenor slain? + Mark well his port! his figure and his face + Nor speak him vulgar, nor of vulgar race; + Some lines, methinks, may make his lineage known, + Antenor's brother, or perhaps his son." + + He spake, and smiled severe, for well he knew + The bleeding youth: Troy sadden'd at the view. + But furious Acamas avenged his cause; + As Promachus his slaughtered brother draws, + He pierced his heart--"Such fate attends you all, + Proud Argives! destined by our arms to fall. + Not Troy alone, but haughty Greece, shall share + The toils, the sorrows, and the wounds of war. + Behold your Promachus deprived of breath, + A victim owed to my brave brother's death. + Not unappeased he enters Pluto's gate, + Who leaves a brother to revenge his fate." + + Heart-piercing anguish struck the Grecian host, + But touch'd the breast of bold Peneleus most; + At the proud boaster he directs his course; + The boaster flies, and shuns superior force. + But young Ilioneus received the spear; + Ilioneus, his father's only care: + (Phorbas the rich, of all the Trojan train + Whom Hermes loved, and taught the arts of gain:) + Full in his eye the weapon chanced to fall, + And from the fibres scoop'd the rooted ball, + Drove through the neck, and hurl'd him to the plain; + He lifts his miserable arms in vain! + Swift his broad falchion fierce Peneleus spread, + And from the spouting shoulders struck his head; + To earth at once the head and helmet fly; + The lance, yet sticking through the bleeding eye, + The victor seized; and, as aloft he shook + The gory visage, thus insulting spoke: + + "Trojans! your great Ilioneus behold! + Haste, to his father let the tale be told: + Let his high roofs resound with frantic woe, + Such as the house of Promachus must know; + Let doleful tidings greet his mother's ear, + Such as to Promachus' sad spouse we bear, + When we victorious shall to Greece return, + And the pale matron in our triumphs mourn." + + Dreadful he spoke, then toss'd the head on high; + The Trojans hear, they tremble, and they fly: + Aghast they gaze around the fleet and wall, + And dread the ruin that impends on all. + + Daughters of Jove! that on Olympus shine, + Ye all-beholding, all-recording nine! + O say, when Neptune made proud Ilion yield, + What chief, what hero first embrued the field? + Of all the Grecians what immortal name, + And whose bless'd trophies, will ye raise to fame? + + Thou first, great Ajax! on the unsanguined plain + Laid Hyrtius, leader of the Mysian train. + Phalces and Mermer, Nestor's son o'erthrew, + Bold Merion, Morys and Hippotion slew. + Strong Periphaetes and Prothoon bled, + By Teucer's arrows mingled with the dead, + Pierced in the flank by Menelaus' steel, + His people's pastor, Hyperenor fell; + Eternal darkness wrapp'd the warrior round, + And the fierce soul came rushing through the wound. + But stretch'd in heaps before Oileus' son, + Fall mighty numbers, mighty numbers run; + Ajax the less, of all the Grecian race + Skill'd in pursuit, and swiftest in the chase. + + [Illustration: BACCHUS.] + + BACCHUS. + + + + + +BOOK XV. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE FIFTH BATTLE AT THE SHIPS; AND THE ACTS OF AJAX. + +Jupiter, awaking, sees the Trojans repulsed from the trenches, Hector in a +swoon, and Neptune at the head of the Greeks: he is highly incensed at the +artifice of Juno, who appeases him by her submissions; she is then sent to +Iris and Apollo. Juno, repairing to the assembly of the gods, attempts, +with extraordinary address, to incense them against Jupiter; in particular +she touches Mars with a violent resentment; he is ready to take arms, but +is prevented by Minerva. Iris and Apollo obey the orders of Jupiter; Iris +commands Neptune to leave the battle, to which, after much reluctance and +passion, he consents. Apollo reinspires Hector with vigour, brings him +back to the battle, marches before him with his aegis, and turns the +fortune of the fight. He breaks down great part of the Grecian wall: the +Trojans rush in, and attempt to fire the first line of the fleet, but are, +as yet, repelled by the greater Ajax with a prodigious slaughter. + + 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, + 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. + 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 wandering to the verge of death. + The god beheld him with a pitying look, + And thus, incensed, to fraudful Juno spoke: + + "O thou, still adverse to the eternal will, + For ever studious in promoting ill! + Thy arts have made the godlike Hector yield, + And driven his conquering squadrons from the field. + Canst thou, unhappy in thy wiles, withstand + Our power immense, and brave the 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, + And all the raging gods opposed in vain? + Headlong I hurl'd them from the 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: + When, by thy wiles induced, fierce Boreas toss'd + The shipwreck'd hero on the Coan coast, + Him through a thousand forms of death I bore, + And sent to Argos, and his native shore. + Hear this, remember, and our fury dread, + Nor pull the unwilling vengeance on thy head; + Lest arts and blandishments successless prove, + Thy soft deceits, and well-dissembled love." + + The Thunderer spoke: imperial Juno mourn'd, + And, trembling, these submissive words return'd: + + "By every oath that powers immortal ties, + The foodful earth and all-infolding skies; + By thy black waves, tremendous Styx! that flow + Through the drear realms of gliding ghosts below; + By the dread honours of thy sacred head, + 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: + Else had thy Juno better counsels given, + And taught submission to the sire of heaven." + + "Think'st thou with me? fair empress of the skies! + (The immortal father with a smile replies;) + Then soon the haughty sea-god shall obey, + Nor dare to act but when we point the way. + If truth inspires thy tongue, proclaim our will + To yon bright synod on the Olympian hill; + Our high decree let various Iris know, + And call the god that bears the silver bow. + Let her descend, and from the embattled plain + Command the sea-god to his watery reign: + While Phoebus hastes great Hector to prepare + To rise afresh, and once more wake the war: + His labouring bosom re-inspires with breath, + And calls his senses from the verge of death. + Greece chased by Troy, even 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. + What youths he slaughters under Ilion's walls! + Even my loved son, divine Sarpedon, falls! + Vanquish'd at last by Hector's lance he lies. + Then, nor till then, shall great Achilles rise: + And lo! that instant, godlike Hector dies. + 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 heavenly host engage + In aid of Greece. The promise of a god + I gave, and seal'd it with the almighty nod, + Achilles' glory to the stars to raise; + Such was our word, and fate the word obeys." + + The trembling queen (the almighty order given) + Swift from the Idaean summit shot to heaven. + 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 bless'd abodes, + 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 + Through all the brazen dome: with goblets crown'd(239) + They hail her queen; the nectar streams around. + 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, + Unmoved his mind, and unrestrain'd his will. + Go thou, the feasts of heaven attend thy call; + Bid the crown'd nectar circle round the hall: + But Jove shall thunder through the ethereal dome + Such stern decrees, such threaten'd woes to come, + As soon shall freeze mankind with dire surprise, + And damp the eternal banquets of the skies." + + The goddess said, and sullen took her place; + Black horror sadden'd each celestial face. + To see the gathering grudge in every breast, + Smiles on her lips a spleenful joy express'd; + While on her wrinkled front, and eyebrow bent, + Sat stedfast care, and lowering discontent. + Thus she proceeds--"Attend, ye powers above! + But know, 'tis madness to contest with Jove: + 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 heaven, and bends the poles. + Submiss, immortals! all he wills, obey: + 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 loved boasted offspring lies o'erthrown, + If that loved boasted offspring be thy own." + + 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, + The god of battles dares avenge the slain; + Dares, though 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: + Then grim in arms, with hasty vengeance flies; + Arms that reflect a radiance through the skies. + And now had Jove, by bold rebellion driven, + Discharged his wrath on half the host of heaven; + But Pallas, springing through the bright abode, + Starts from her azure throne to calm the god. + Struck for the 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 the impetuous homicide she said: + + "By what wild passion, furious! art thou toss'd? + Striv'st thou with Jove? thou art already lost. + Shall not the Thunderer's dread command restrain, + And was imperial Juno heard in vain? + Back to the skies wouldst thou with shame be driven, + And in thy guilt involve the host of heaven? + Ilion and Greece no more should Jove engage, + The skies would yield an ampler scene of rage; + Guilty and guiltless find an equal fate + And one vast ruin whelm the Olympian state. + Cease then thy offspring's death unjust to call; + Heroes as great have died, and yet shall fall. + Why should heaven's law with foolish man comply + Exempted from the race ordain'd to die?" + + This menace fix'd the warrior to his throne; + 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 Thunderer's will (Saturnia cried) + On yon tall summit of the fountful Ide: + 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, + (Fair nurse of fountains, and of savage game) + There sat the 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. + Well-pleased the Thunderer 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, + Report to yon 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. + How shall his rashness stand the dire alarms, + If heaven's omnipotence descend in arms? + Strives he with me, by whom his power was given, + And is there equal to the lord of heaven?" + + The all-mighty spoke; the goddess wing'd her flight + To sacred Ilion from the Idaean height. + Swift as the rattling hail, or fleecy snows, + Drive through the skies, when Boreas fiercely blows; + So from the clouds descending Iris falls, + And to blue Neptune thus the goddess calls: + + "Attend the mandate of the sire above! + In me behold the messenger of Jove: + He bids thee from forbidden wars repair + To thine own deeps, or to the fields of air. + This if refused, he bids thee timely weigh + His elder birthright, and superior sway. + How shall thy rashness stand the dire alarms + If heaven's omnipotence descend in arms? + Striv'st thou with him by whom all power is given? + And art thou equal to the lord of heaven?" + + "What means the haughty sovereign of the skies? + (The king of ocean thus, incensed, 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, + 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; + 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, + And awe the younger brothers of the pole; + There to his children his commands be given, + The trembling, servile, second race of heaven." + + "And must I then (said she), O sire of floods! + Bear this fierce answer to the king of gods? + Correct it yet, and change thy rash intent; + A noble mind disdains not to repent. + To elder brothers guardian fiends are given, + To scourge the wretch insulting them and heaven." + + "Great is the profit (thus the god rejoin'd) + When ministers are blest with prudent mind: + Warn'd by thy words, to powerful Jove I yield, + And quit, though angry, the contended field: + Not but his threats with justice I disclaim, + The same our honours, and our birth the same. + If yet, forgetful of his promise given + To Hermes, Pallas, and the queen of heaven, + To favour Ilion, that perfidious place, + He breaks his faith with half the ethereal race; + Give him to know, unless the Grecian train + Lay yon proud structures level with the plain, + Howe'er the 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. + 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, + Seeks his own seas, and trembles at our rage; + Else had my wrath, heaven'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. + Well was the crime, and well the vengeance spared; + Even power immense had found such battle hard. + Go thou, my son! the trembling Greeks alarm, + Shake my broad aegis on thy active arm, + Be godlike Hector thy peculiar care, + 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. + Not half so swift the sailing falcon flies, + That drives a turtle through the liquid skies, + As Phoebus, shooting from the Idaean brow, + Glides down the mountain to the plain below. + There Hector seated by the stream he sees, + His sense returning with the coming breeze; + Again his pulses beat, his spirits rise; + Again his loved companions meet his eyes; + Jove thinking of his pains, they pass'd away, + To whom the god who gives the golden day: + + "Why sits great Hector from the field so far? + What grief, what wound, withholds thee from the war?" + + The fainting hero, as the vision bright + Stood shining o'er him, half unseal'd his sight: + + "What blest immortal, with commanding breath, + 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? + Even 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 Thunderer sends thee aid. + Behold! thy Phoebus shall his arms employ, + Phoebus, propitious still to thee and Troy. + Inspire thy warriors then with manly force, + And to the ships impel thy rapid horse: + Even I will make thy fiery coursers way, + And drive the Grecians headlong to the sea." + + 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, + To bathe 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: + 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 combined + Invade the mountain goat, or branching hind; + Far from the hunter's rage secure they lie + 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 through the ranks in blood, + Soon as they see the furious chief appear, + Forget to vanquish, and consent to fear. + + Thoas with grief observed his dreadful course, + Thoas, the bravest of the AEtolian force; + Skill'd to direct the javelin's distant flight, + And bold to combat in the standing fight, + Not more in councils famed for solid sense, + Than winning words and heavenly eloquence. + "Gods! what portent (he cried) these eyes invades? + Lo! Hector rises from the Stygian shades! + We saw him, late, by thundering 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; + Lo! still he lives, pursues, and conquers still! + Yet hear my counsel, and his worst withstand: + The Greeks' main body to the fleet command; + But let the few whom brisker spirits warm, + Stand the first onset, and provoke the storm. + Thus point your arms; and when such foes appear, + Fierce as he is, let Hector learn to fear." + + The warrior spoke; the listening Greeks obey, + Thickening their ranks, and form a deep array. + + Each Ajax, Teucer, Merion gave command, + 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. + Full on the front the pressing Trojans bear, + And Hector first came towering to the war. + Phoebus himself the rushing battle led; + A veil of clouds involved his radiant head: + High held before him, Jove's enormous shield + Portentous shone, and shaded all the field; + Vulcan to Jove the immortal gift consign'd, + To scatter hosts and terrify mankind, + The Greeks expect the shock, the clamours rise + From different parts, and mingle in the skies. + Dire was the hiss of darts, by heroes flung, + And arrows leaping from the bow-string sung; + These drink the life of generous warriors slain: + Those guiltless fall, and thirst for blood in vain. + As long as Phoebus bore unmoved the shield, + Sat doubtful conquest hovering o'er the field; + But when aloft he shakes it in the skies, + Shouts in their ears, and lightens in their eyes, + Deep horror seizes every Grecian breast, + Their force is humbled, and their fear confess'd. + 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 through the shady gloom. + Impending Phoebus pours around them fear, + 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 Boeotians ever dear, + And one Menestheus' friend and famed compeer. + Medon and Iasus, AEneas sped; + This sprang from Phelus, and the Athenians led; + But hapless Medon from Oileus came; + Him Ajax honour'd with a brother's name, + Though born of lawless love: from home expell'd, + 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. + By Paris, Deiochus inglorious dies, + Pierced through 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, + 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, + Points to the fleet: "For, by the gods! who flies,(240) + 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, + 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! + Apollo, planted at the trench's bound, + Push'd at the bank: down sank the 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) + Now steeds, and men, and cars tumultuous pass. + The wondering 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: + Easy as when ashore an infant stands, + And draws imagined houses in the sands; + The sportive wanton, pleased with some new play, + Sweeps the slight works and fashion'd domes away: + Thus vanish'd at thy touch, the towers and walls; + 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. + Experienced 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, + We paid the fattest 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 relics of the Grecian name." + + Thus prayed the sage: the eternal gave consent, + And peals of thunder shook the firmament. + Presumptuous Troy mistook the accepting sign, + And catch'd new fury at the voice divine. + As, when black tempests mix the seas and skies, + The roaring deeps in watery 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; + 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 javelin throw. + + While thus the thunder of the battle raged, + And labouring 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 medicine of the mind. + 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. + "Though yet thy state require redress (he cries) + Depart I must: what horrors strike my eyes! + Charged with Achilles' high command 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. + Perhaps some favouring 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. + The embodied Greeks the fierce attack sustain, + But strive, though numerous, to repulse in vain: + Nor could the Trojans, through that firm array, + Force to the fleet and tents the impervious way. + As when a shipwright, with Palladian art, + Smooths the rough wood, and levels every part; + With equal hand he guides his whole design, + By the just rule, and the directing line: + The martial leaders, with like skill and care, + Preserved their line, and equal kept the war. + Brave deeds of arms through all the ranks were tried, + And every ship sustained an equal tide. + At one proud bark, high-towering 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: + 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, pierced by Telamon's huge lance, expires: + Thundering he falls, and drops the 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: + Lo! where the son of royal Clytius lies; + Ah, save his arms, secure his obsequies!" + + This said, his eager javelin sought the foe: + But Ajax shunn'd the meditated blow. + Not vainly yet the forceful lance was thrown; + It stretch'd in dust unhappy Lycophron: + An exile long, sustain'd at Ajax' board, + A faithful servant to a foreign lord; + In peace, and war, for ever at his side, + Near his loved master, as he lived, he died. + 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 + Our friend, our loved companion! now no more! + Dear as a parent, with a parent's care + To fight our wars he left his native air. + This death deplored, to Hector's rage we owe; + Revenge, revenge it on the cruel foe. + Where are those darts on which the fates attend? + And where the bow which Phoebus taught to bend?" + + Impatient Teucer, hastening to his aid, + Before the chief his ample bow display'd; + The well-stored quiver on his shoulders hung: + Then hiss'd his arrow, and the bowstring sung. + Clytus, Pisenor's son, renown'd in fame, + (To thee, Polydamas! an honour'd name) + Drove through the thickest of the embattled plains + The startling steeds, and shook his eager reins. + As all on glory ran his ardent mind, + The pointed death arrests him from behind: + Through his fair neck the thrilling arrow flies; + In youth's first bloom reluctantly he dies. + Hurl'd from the lofty seat, at distance far, + 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 edged his sword, and strengthen'd every blow. + + Once more bold Teucer, in his country's cause, + At Hector's breast a chosen arrow draws: + And had the weapon found the destined way, + Thy fall, great Trojan! had renown'd that day. + But Hector was not doom'd to perish then: + The all-wise disposer of the fates of men + (Imperial Jove) his present death withstands; + Nor was such glory due to Teucer's hands. + At its full stretch as the tough string he drew, + Struck by an arm unseen, it burst in two; + Down dropp'd the bow: the shaft with brazen head + Fell innocent, and on the dust lay dead. + The astonish'd archer to great Ajax cries; + "Some god prevents our destined enterprise: + Some god, propitious to the Trojan foe, + 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 heaven commands it (Ajax made reply) + Dismiss the bow, and lay thy arrows by: + Thy arms no less suffice the lance to wield, + And quit the quiver for the ponderous 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; + To force our fleet, or even a ship to gain, + Asks toil, and sweat, and blood: their utmost might + Shall find its match--No more: 'tis ours to fight." + + Then Teucer laid his faithless bow aside; + The fourfold buckler o'er his shoulder tied; + On his brave head a crested helm he placed, + With nodding horse-hair 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: + "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: + Indulgent Jove! how plain thy favours shine, + When happy nations bear the marks divine! + How easy then, to see the sinking state + Of realms accursed, deserted, reprobate! + Such is the fate of Greece, and such is ours: + Behold, ye warriors, and exert your powers. + Death is the worst; a fate which all must try; + And for our country, 'tis a bliss to die. + The gallant man, though slain in fight he be, + Yet leaves his nation safe, his children free; + 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 roused the soul in every Trojan breast: + The godlike Ajax next his Greeks address'd: + + "How long, ye warriors of the Argive race, + (To generous Argos what a dire disgrace!) + How long on these cursed confines will ye lie, + Yet undetermined, or to live or die? + What hopes remain, what methods to retire, + If once your vessels catch the Trojan fire? + Make how the flames approach, how near they fall, + How Hector calls, and Troy obeys his call! + Not to the dance that dreadful voice invites, + It calls to death, and all the rage of fights. + 'Tis 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, + Than keep this hard-got inch of barren sands, + Still press'd, and press'd by such inglorious hands." + + The listening Grecians feel their leader's flame, + And every kindling bosom pants for fame. + Then mutual slaughters spread on either side; + By Hector here the Phocian Schedius died; + There, pierced by Ajax, sunk Laodamas, + Chief of the foot, of old Antenor's race. + Polydamas laid Otus on the sand, + The fierce commander of the Epeian band. + His lance bold Meges at the victor threw; + The victor, stooping, from the death withdrew; + (That valued life, O Phoebus! was thy care) + But Croesmus' bosom took the flying spear: + His corpse fell bleeding on the slippery shore; + 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 pierced the centre of his sounding shield: + But Meges, Phyleus' ample breastplate wore, + (Well-known in fight on Selle's 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, + 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 ting'd with Tyrian dye: in dust below, + Shorn from the crest, the purple honours glow. + Meantime their fight the Spartan king survey'd, + And stood by Meges' side a sudden aid. + Through Dolops' shoulder urged his forceful dart, + Which held its passage through the panting heart, + And issued at his breast. With thundering sound + 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. + He (ere 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, + Beloved 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? + 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; + Or Ilion from her towery height descend, + Heaved 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: + Then Ajax thus--"O Greeks! respect your fame, + Respect yourselves, and learn an honest shame: + Let mutual reverence mutual warmth inspire, + And catch from breast to breast the noble fire, + On valour's side the odds of combat lie; + 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 generous sense he not in vain imparts; + It sunk, and rooted in the Grecian hearts: + 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, though impell'd by Jove. + The fiery Spartan first, with loud applause. + 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." + + He said; and backward 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, + While the swift javelin hiss'd along in air. + Advancing Melanippus met the dart + With his bold breast, and felt it in his heart: + Thundering he falls; his falling arms resound, + And his broad buckler rings against the ground. + The victor leaps upon his prostrate prize: + Thus on a roe the well-breath'd beagle flies, + And rends his side, fresh-bleeding with the dart + The distant hunter sent into his heart. + Observing Hector to the rescue flew; + Bold as he was, Antilochus withdrew. + So when a savage, ranging o'er the plain, + Has torn the shepherd's dog, or shepherd's swain, + While conscious of the deed, he glares around, + And hears the gathering multitude resound, + 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 tempest flew; + But enter'd in the Grecian ranks, he turns + 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; + 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, + The Trojans fly, and conquer'd Ilion burn. + These fates revolved 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. + So Mars, when human crimes for vengeance call, + Shakes his huge javelin, 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 + 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. + 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 + Burn at each foe, and single every 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: + So some tall rock o'erhangs the hoary main,(241) + By winds assail'd, by billows beat in vain, + Unmoved it hears, above, the tempest blow, + And sees the watery mountains break below. + Girt in surrounding flames, he seems to fall + Like fire from Jove, and bursts upon them all: + Bursts as a wave that from the cloud 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 through every shroud: + Pale, trembling, tired, the sailors freeze with fears; + And instant death on every 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, + 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; + Some lordly bull (the rest dispersed 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 seized, and slew: + Mycenian Periphes, a mighty name, + 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 generous as the sire was base; + O'er all his country's youth conspicuous far + In every 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 up-sprung; + Supine he fell; his brazen helmet rung. + On the fallen chief the invading Trojan press'd, + And plunged the pointed javelin in his breast. + His circling friends, who strove to guard too late + The unhappy hero, fled, or shared his fate. + + Chased from the foremost line, the Grecian train + Now man the next, receding toward the main: + Wedged in one body at the tents they stand, + Wall'd round with sterns, a gloomy, desperate band. + Now manly shame forbids the inglorious flight; + 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. + + "Oh friends! be men: your generous 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 reverend head; + 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." + + 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, + And show'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: + A ponderous 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, + The godlike hero stalks from side to side. + So when a horseman from the watery mead + (Skill'd in the manage of the bounding steed) + Drives four fair coursers, practised to obey, + To some great city through the public way; + 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, + 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; + 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, + And breathes fierce spirits in his following band. + The warring nations meet, the battle roars, + Thick beats the combat on the sounding prores. + Thou wouldst have thought, so furious was their fire, + No force could tame them, and no toil could tire; + 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 + 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. + + "Twas thou, bold Hector! whose resistless hand + First seized a ship on that contested strand; + The same which dead Protesilaus bore,(242) + The first that touch'd the unhappy Trojan shore: + For this in arms the warring nations stood, + And bathed their generous breasts with mutual blood. + No room to poise the lance or bend the bow; + 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; + With streaming blood the slippery shores are dyed, + And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide. + + Still raging, Hector with his ample hand + Grasps the high stern, and gives this loud command: + + [Illustration: AJAX DEFENDING THE GREEK SHIPS.] + + AJAX DEFENDING THE GREEK SHIPS. + + + "Haste, bring the flames! that toil of ten long years + Is finished; and the day desired appears! + This happy day with acclamations greet, + Bright with destruction of yon hostile fleet. + The coward-counsels of a timorous throng + Of reverend dotards check'd our glory long: + 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 + Pour a new deluge on the Grecian band. + Even Ajax paused, (so thick the javelins 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: + Even to the last his naval charge defends, + Now shakes his spear, now lifts, and now protends; + Even yet, the Greeks with piercing shouts inspires, + Amidst attacks, and deaths, and darts, and fires. + + "O friends! O heroes! names for ever dear, + 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? + 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. + 'Tis hostile ground you tread; your native lands + Far, far from hence: your fates are in your hands." + + Raging he spoke; nor further wastes his breath, + But turns his javelin to the work of death. + Whate'er bold Trojan arm'd his daring hands, + Against the sable ships, with flaming brands, + 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. + + [Illustration: CASTOR AND POLLUX.] + + CASTOR AND POLLUX. + + + + + +BOOK XVI. + + +ARGUMENT + +THE SIXTH BATTLE, THE ACTS AND DEATH OF PATROCLUS + +Patroclus (in pursuance of the request of Nestor in the eleventh book) +entreats Achilles to suffer him to go to the assistance of the Greeks with +Achilles' troops and armour. He agrees to it, but at the same time charges +him to content himself with rescuing the fleet, without further pursuit of +the enemy. The armour, horses, soldiers, and officers are described. +Achilles offers a libation for the success of his friend, after which +Patroclus leads the Myrmidons to battle. The Trojans, at the sight of +Patroclus in Achilles' armour, taking him for that hero, are cast into the +uttermost consternation; he beats them off from the vessels, Hector +himself flies, Sarpedon is killed, though Jupiter was averse to his fate. +Several other particulars of the battle are described; in the heat of +which, Patroclus, neglecting the orders of Achilles, pursues the foe to +the walls of Troy, where Apollo repulses and disarms him, Euphorbus wounds +him, and Hector kills him, which concludes the book. + + So warr'd both armies on the ensanguined shore, + While the black vessels smoked with human gore. + Meantime Patroclus to Achilles flies; + The streaming tears fall copious from his eyes + Not faster, trickling to the plains below, + From the tall rock the sable waters flow. + Divine Pelides, with compassion moved. + Thus spoke, indulgent, to his best beloved:(243) + + "Patroclus, say, what grief thy bosom bears, + That flows so fast in these unmanly tears? + No girl, no infant whom the mother keeps + From her loved breast, with fonder passion weeps; + Not more the mother's soul, that infant warms, + Clung to her knees, and reaching at her arms, + Than thou hast mine! Oh tell me, to what end + Thy melting sorrows thus pursue thy friend? + + "Griev'st thou for me, or for, my martial band? + Or come sad tidings from our native land? + Our fathers live (our first, most tender care), + Thy good Menoetius breathes the vital air, + And hoary Peleus yet extends his days; + Pleased in their age to hear their children's praise. + Or may some meaner cause thy pity claim? + Perhaps yon relics of the Grecian name, + Doom'd in their ships to sink by fire and sword, + And pay the forfeit of their haughty lord? + Whate'er the cause, reveal thy secret care, + And speak those sorrows which a friend would share." + A sigh that instant from his bosom broke, + Another follow'd, and Patroclus spoke: + + "Let Greece at length with pity touch thy breast, + Thyself a Greek; and, once, of Greeks the best! + Lo! every chief that might her fate prevent, + Lies pierced with wounds, and bleeding in his tent: + Eurypylus, Tydides, Atreus' son, + And wise Ulysses, at the navy groan, + More for their country's wounds than for their own. + Their pain soft arts of pharmacy can ease, + Thy breast alone no lenitives appease. + May never rage like thine my soul enslave, + O great in vain! unprofitably brave! + Thy country slighted in her last distress, + What friend, what man, from thee shall hope redress? + No--men unborn, and ages yet behind, + Shall curse that fierce, that unforgiving mind. + + "O man unpitying! if of man thy race; + But sure thou spring'st not from a soft embrace, + Nor ever amorous hero caused thy birth, + Nor ever tender goddess brought thee forth: + Some rugged rock's hard entrails gave thee form, + And raging seas produced thee in a storm, + A soul well suiting that tempestuous kind, + So rough thy manners, so untamed thy mind. + + "If some dire oracle thy breast alarm, + If aught from Jove, or Thetis, stop thy arm, + Some beam of comfort yet on Greece may shine, + If I but lead the Myrmidonian line: + Clad in thy dreadful arms if I appear, + Proud Troy shall tremble, and desert the war; + Without thy person Greece shall win the day, + And thy mere image chase her foes away. + Press'd by fresh forces, her o'erlabour'd train + Shall quit the ships, and Greece respire again." + Thus, blind to fate! with supplicating breath, + Thou begg'st his arms, and in his arms thy death. + Unfortunately good! a boding sigh + Thy friend return'd; and with it, this reply: + "Patroclus! thy Achilles knows no fears; + Nor words from Jove nor oracles he hears; + Nor aught a mother's caution can suggest; + The tyrant's pride lies rooted in my breast. + My wrongs, my wrongs, my constant thought engage, + Those, my sole oracles, inspire my rage: + I made him tyrant: gave him power to wrong + Even my: I felt it; and shall feel it long. + The maid, my black-eyed maid, he forced away, + Due to the toils of many a well-fought day; + Due to my conquest of her father's reign; + Due to the votes of all the Grecian train. + From me he forced her; me, the bold and brave, + Disgraced, dishonour'd, like the meanest slave. + But bear we this--the wrongs I grieve are past; + 'Tis time our fury should relent at last: + I fix'd its date; the day I wish'd appears: + How Hector to my ships his battle bears, + The flames my eyes, the shouts invade my ears. + Go then, Patroclus! court fair honour's charms + In Troy's famed fields, and in Achilles' arms: + Lead forth my martial Myrmidons to fight, + Go save the fleets, and conquer in my right. + See the thin relics of their baffled band + At the last edge of yon deserted land! + Behold all Ilion on their ships descends; + How the cloud blackens, how the storm impends! + It was not thus, when, at my sight amazed, + Troy saw and trembled, as this helmet blazed: + Had not the injurious king our friendship lost, + Yon ample trench had buried half her host. + No camps, no bulwarks now the Trojans fear, + Those are not dreadful, no Achilles there; + No longer flames the lance of Tydeus' son; + No more your general calls his heroes on: + Hector, alone, I hear; his dreadful breath + Commands your slaughter, or proclaims your death. + Yet now, Patroclus, issue to the plain: + Now save the ships, the rising fires restrain, + And give the Greeks to visit Greece again. + But heed my words, and mark a friend's command, + Who trusts his fame and honours in thy hand, + And from thy deeds expects the Achaian host + Shall render back the beauteous maid he lost: + Rage uncontroll'd through all the hostile crew, + But touch not Hector, Hector is my due. + Though Jove in thunder should command the war, + Be just, consult my glory, and forbear. + The fleet once saved, desist from further chase, + Nor lead to Ilion's walls the Grecian race; + Some adverse god thy rashness may destroy; + Some god, like Phoebus, ever kind to Troy. + Let Greece, redeem'd from this destructive strait, + Do her own work; and leave the rest to fate. + O! would to all the immortal powers above, + Apollo, Pallas, and almighty Jove! + That not one Trojan might be left alive, + And not a Greek of all the race survive: + Might only we the vast destruction shun, + And only we destroy the accursed town!" + Such conference held the chiefs; while on the strand + Great Jove with conquest crown'd the Trojan band. + Ajax no more the sounding storm sustain'd, + So thick the darts an iron tempest rain'd: + On his tired arm the weighty buckler hung; + His hollow helm with falling javelins rung; + His breath, in quick short pantings, comes and goes; + And painful sweat from all his members flows. + Spent and o'erpower'd, he barely breathes at most; + Yet scarce an army stirs him from his post; + Dangers on dangers all around him glow, + And toil to toil, and woe succeeds to woe. + + Say, Muses, throned above the starry frame, + How first the navy blazed with Trojan flame? + + Stern Hector waved his sword, and standing near, + Where furious Ajax plied his ashen spear, + Full on the lance a stroke so justly sped, + That the broad falchion lopp'd its brazen head; + His pointless spear the warrior shakes in vain; + The brazen head falls sounding on the plain. + Great Ajax saw, and own'd the hand divine; + Confessing Jove, and trembling at the sign, + Warn'd he retreats. Then swift from all sides pour + The hissing brands; thick streams the fiery shower; + O'er the high stern the curling volumes rise, + And sheets of rolling smoke involve the skies. + + Divine Achilles view'd the rising flames, + And smote his thigh, and thus aloud exclaims: + "Arm, arm, Patroclus! Lo, the blaze aspires! + The glowing ocean reddens with the fires. + Arm, ere our vessels catch the spreading flame; + Arm, ere the Grecians be no more a name; + I haste to bring the troops."--The hero said; + The friend with ardour and with joy obey'd. + + He cased his limbs in brass; and first around + His manly legs, with silver buckles bound + The clasping greaves; then to his breast applies + The flaming cuirass of a thousand dyes; + Emblazed with studs of gold his falchion shone + In the rich belt, as in a starry zone: + Achilles' shield his ample shoulders spread, + Achilles' helmet nodded o'er his head: + Adorn'd in all his terrible array, + He flash'd around intolerable day. + Alone untouch'd, Pelides' javelin stands, + Not to be poised but by Pelides' hands: + From Pelion's shady brow the plant entire + Old Chiron rent, and shaped it for his sire; + Whose son's great arm alone the weapon wields, + The death of heroes, and the dread of fields. + + [Illustration: Buckles.] + + Buckles. + + + The brave Automedon (an honour'd name, + The second to his lord in love and fame, + In peace his friend, and partner of the war) + The winged coursers harness'd to the car; + Xanthus and Balius, of immortal breed, + Sprung from the wind, and like the wind in speed. + Whom the wing'd harpy, swift Podarge, bore, + By Zephyr pregnant on the breezy shore: + Swift Pedasus was added to their side, + (Once great Aetion's, now Achilles' pride) + Who, like in strength, in swiftness, and in grace, + A mortal courser match'd the immortal race. + + Achilles speeds from tent to tent, and warms + His hardy Myrmidons to blood and arms. + All breathing death, around the chief they stand, + A grim, terrific, formidable band: + Grim as voracious wolves, that seek the springs(244) + When scalding thirst their burning bowels wrings; + When some tall stag, fresh-slaughtered in the wood, + Has drench'd their wide insatiate throats with blood, + To the black fount they rush, a hideous throng, + With paunch distended, and with lolling tongue, + Fire fills their eye, their black jaws belch the gore, + And gorged with slaughter still they thirst for more. + Like furious, rush'd the Myrmidonian crew, + Such their dread strength, and such their deathful view. + + High in the midst the great Achilles stands, + Directs their order, and the war commands. + He, loved of Jove, had launch'd for Ilion's shores + Full fifty vessels, mann'd with fifty oars: + Five chosen leaders the fierce bands obey, + Himself supreme in valour, as in sway. + + First march'd Menestheus, of celestial birth, + Derived from thee, whose waters wash the earth, + Divine Sperchius! Jove-descended flood! + A mortal mother mixing with a god. + Such was Menestheus, but miscall'd by fame + The son of Borus, that espoused the dame. + + Eudorus next; whom Polymele the gay, + Famed in the graceful dance, produced to-day. + Her, sly Cellenius loved: on her would gaze, + As with swift step she form'd the running maze: + To her high chamber from Diana's quire, + The god pursued her, urged, and crown'd his fire. + The son confess'd his father's heavenly race, + And heir'd his mother's swiftness in the chase. + Strong Echecleus, bless'd in all those charms + That pleased a god, succeeded to her arms; + Not conscious of those loves, long hid from fame, + With gifts of price he sought and won the dame; + Her secret offspring to her sire she bare; + Her sire caress'd him with a parent's care. + + Pisander follow'd; matchless in his art + To wing the spear, or aim the distant dart; + No hand so sure of all the Emathian line, + Or if a surer, great Patroclus! thine. + + The fourth by Phoenix' grave command was graced, + Laerces' valiant offspring led the last. + + Soon as Achilles with superior care + Had call'd the chiefs, and order'd all the war, + This stern remembrance to his troops he gave: + "Ye far-famed Myrmidons, ye fierce and brave! + Think with what threats you dared the Trojan throng, + Think what reproach these ears endured so long; + 'Stern son of Peleus, (thus ye used to say, + While restless, raging, in your ships you lay) + Oh nursed with gall, unknowing how to yield; + Whose rage defrauds us of so famed a field: + If that dire fury must for ever burn, + What make we here? Return, ye chiefs, return!' + Such were your words--Now, warriors! grieve no more, + Lo there the Trojans; bathe your swords in gore! + This day shall give you all your soul demands, + Glut all your hearts, and weary all your hands!" + + [Illustration: DIANA.] + + DIANA. + + + Thus while he roused the fire in every breast, + Close and more close the listening cohorts press'd; + Ranks wedged in ranks; of arms a steely ring + Still grows, and spreads, and thickens round the king. + As when a circling wall the builder forms, + Of strength defensive against wind and storms, + Compacted stones the thickening work compose, + And round him wide the rising structure grows: + So helm to helm, and crest to crest they throng, + Shield urged on shield, and man drove man along; + Thick, undistinguish'd plumes, together join'd, + Float in one sea, and wave before the wind. + + Far o'er the rest in glittering pomp appear, + There bold Automedon, Patroclus here; + Brothers in arms, with equal fury fired; + Two friends, two bodies with one soul inspired. + + But mindful of the gods, Achilles went + To the rich coffer in his shady tent; + There lay on heaps his various garments roll'd, + And costly furs, and carpets stiff with gold, + (The presents of the silver-footed dame) + From thence he took a bowl, of antique frame, + Which never man had stained with ruddy wine, + Nor raised in offerings to the power divine, + But Peleus' son; and Peleus' son to none + Had raised in offerings, but to Jove alone. + This tinged with sulphur, sacred first to flame, + He purged; and wash'd it in the running stream. + Then cleansed his hands; and fixing for a space + His eyes on heaven, his feet upon the place + Of sacrifice, the purple draught he pour'd + Forth in the midst; and thus the god implored: + + "O thou supreme! high-throned all height above! + O great Pelasgic, Dodonaean Jove! + Who 'midst surrounding frosts, and vapours chill, + Presid'st on bleak Dodona's vocal hill: + (Whose groves the Selli, race austere! surround, + Their feet unwash'd, their slumbers on the ground; + Who hear, from rustling oaks, thy dark decrees; + And catch the fates, low-whispered in the breeze;) + Hear, as of old! Thou gav'st, at Thetis' prayer, + Glory to me, and to the Greeks despair. + Lo, to the dangers of the fighting field + The best, the dearest of my friends, I yield, + Though still determined, to my ships confined; + Patroclus gone, I stay but half behind. + Oh! be his guard thy providential care, + Confirm his heart, and string his arm to war: + Press'd by his single force let Hector see + His fame in arms not owing all to me. + But when the fleets are saved from foes and fire, + Let him with conquest and renown retire; + Preserve his arms, preserve his social train, + And safe return him to these eyes again!" + + Great Jove consents to half the chief's request, + But heaven's eternal doom denies the rest; + To free the fleet was granted to his prayer; + His safe return, the winds dispersed in air. + Back to his tent the stern Achilles flies, + And waits the combat with impatient eyes. + + Meanwhile the troops beneath Patroclus' care, + Invade the Trojans, and commence the war. + As wasps, provoked by children in their play, + Pour from their mansions by the broad highway, + In swarms the guiltless traveller engage, + Whet all their stings, and call forth all their rage: + All rise in arms, and, with a general cry, + Assert their waxen domes, and buzzing progeny. + Thus from the tents the fervent legion swarms, + So loud their clamours, and so keen their arms: + Their rising rage Patroclus' breath inspires, + Who thus inflames them with heroic fires: + + "O warriors, partners of Achilles' praise! + Be mindful of your deeds in ancient days; + Your godlike master let your acts proclaim, + And add new glories to his mighty name. + Think your Achilles sees you fight: be brave, + And humble the proud monarch whom you save." + + Joyful they heard, and kindling as he spoke, + Flew to the fleet, involved in fire and smoke. + From shore to shore the doubling shouts resound, + The hollow ships return a deeper sound. + The war stood still, and all around them gazed, + When great Achilles' shining armour blazed: + Troy saw, and thought the dread Achilles nigh, + At once they see, they tremble, and they fly. + + Then first thy spear, divine Patroclus! flew, + Where the war raged, and where the tumult grew. + Close to the stern of that famed ship which bore + Unbless'd Protesilaus to Ilion's shore, + The great Paeonian, bold Pyrechmes stood; + (Who led his bands from Axius' winding flood;) + His shoulder-blade receives the fatal wound; + The groaning warrior pants upon the ground. + His troops, that see their country's glory slain, + Fly diverse, scatter'd o'er the distant plain. + Patroclus' arm forbids the spreading fires, + And from the half-burn'd ship proud Troy retires; + Clear'd from the smoke the joyful navy lies; + In heaps on heaps the foe tumultuous flies; + Triumphant Greece her rescued decks ascends, + And loud acclaim the starry region rends. + So when thick clouds enwrap the mountain's head, + O'er heaven's expanse like one black ceiling spread; + Sudden the Thunderer, with a flashing ray, + Bursts through the darkness, and lets down the day: + The hills shine out, the rocks in prospect rise, + And streams, and vales, and forests, strike the eyes; + The smiling scene wide opens to the sight, + And all the unmeasured ether flames with light. + + But Troy repulsed, and scatter'd o'er the plains, + Forced from the navy, yet the fight maintains. + Now every Greek some hostile hero slew, + But still the foremost, bold Patroclus flew: + As Areilycus had turn'd him round, + Sharp in his thigh he felt the piercing wound; + The brazen-pointed spear, with vigour thrown, + The thigh transfix'd, and broke the brittle bone: + Headlong he fell. Next, Thoas was thy chance; + Thy breast, unarm'd, received the Spartan lance. + Phylides' dart (as Amphidus drew nigh) + His blow prevented, and transpierced his thigh, + Tore all the brawn, and rent the nerves away; + In darkness, and in death, the warrior lay. + + In equal arms two sons of Nestor stand, + And two bold brothers of the Lycian band: + By great Antilochus, Atymnius dies, + Pierced in the flank, lamented youth! he lies, + Kind Maris, bleeding in his brother's wound, + Defends the breathless carcase on the ground; + Furious he flies, his murderer to engage: + But godlike Thrasimed prevents his rage, + Between his arm and shoulder aims a blow; + His arm falls spouting on the dust below: + He sinks, with endless darkness cover'd o'er: + And vents his soul, effused with gushing gore. + + Slain by two brothers, thus two brothers bleed, + Sarpedon's friends, Amisodarus' seed; + Amisodarus, who, by Furies led, + The bane of men, abhorr'd Chimaera bred; + Skill'd in the dart in vain, his sons expire, + And pay the forfeit of their guilty sire. + + Stopp'd in the tumult Cleobulus lies, + Beneath Oileus' arm, a living prize; + A living prize not long the Trojan stood; + The thirsty falchion drank his reeking blood: + Plunged in his throat the smoking weapon lies; + Black death, and fate unpitying, seal his eyes. + + Amid the ranks, with mutual thirst of fame, + Lycon the brave, and fierce Peneleus came; + In vain their javelins at each other flew, + Now, met in arms, their eager swords they drew. + On the plumed crest of his Boeotian foe + The daring Lycon aim'd a noble blow; + The sword broke short; but his, Peneleus sped + Full on the juncture of the neck and head: + The head, divided by a stroke so just, + Hung by the skin; the body sunk to dust. + + O'ertaken Neamas by Merion bleeds, + Pierced through the shoulder as he mounts his steeds; + Back from the car he tumbles to the ground: + His swimming eyes eternal shades surround. + + Next Erymas was doom'd his fate to feel, + His open'd mouth received the Cretan steel: + Beneath the brain the point a passage tore, + Crash'd the thin bones, and drown'd the teeth in gore: + His mouth, his eyes, his nostrils, pour a flood; + He sobs his soul out in the gush of blood. + + As when the flocks neglected by the swain, + Or kids, or lambs, lie scatter'd o'er the plain, + A troop of wolves the unguarded charge survey, + And rend the trembling, unresisting prey: + Thus on the foe the Greeks impetuous came; + Troy fled, unmindful of her former fame. + + But still at Hector godlike Ajax aim'd, + Still, pointed at his breast, his javelin flamed. + The Trojan chief, experienced in the field, + O'er his broad shoulders spread the massy shield, + Observed the storm of darts the Grecians pour, + And on his buckler caught the ringing shower: + He sees for Greece the scale of conquest rise, + Yet stops, and turns, and saves his loved allies. + + As when the hand of Jove a tempest forms, + And rolls the cloud to blacken heaven with storms, + Dark o'er the fields the ascending vapour flies, + And shades the sun, and blots the golden skies: + So from the ships, along the dusky plain, + Dire Flight and Terror drove the Trojan train. + Even Hector fled; through heads of disarray + The fiery coursers forced their lord away: + While far behind his Trojans fall confused; + Wedged in the trench, in one vast carnage bruised: + Chariots on chariots roll: the clashing spokes + Shock; while the madding steeds break short their yokes. + In vain they labour up the steepy mound; + Their charioteers lie foaming on the ground. + Fierce on the rear, with shouts Patroclus flies; + Tumultuous clamour fills the fields and skies; + Thick drifts of dust involve their rapid flight; + Clouds rise on clouds, and heaven is snatch'd from sight. + The affrighted steeds their dying lords cast down, + Scour o'er the fields, and stretch to reach the town. + Loud o'er the rout was heard the victor's cry, + Where the war bleeds, and where the thickest die, + Where horse and arms, and chariots he o'erthrown, + And bleeding heroes under axles groan. + No stop, no check, the steeds of Peleus knew: + From bank to bank the immortal coursers flew. + High-bounding o'er the fosse, the whirling car + Smokes through the ranks, o'ertakes the flying war, + And thunders after Hector; Hector flies, + Patroclus shakes his lance; but fate denies. + Not with less noise, with less impetuous force, + The tide of Trojans urge their desperate course, + Than when in autumn Jove his fury pours, + And earth is loaden with incessant showers; + (When guilty mortals break the eternal laws, + Or judges, bribed, betray the righteous cause;) + From their deep beds he bids the rivers rise, + And opens all the flood-gates of the skies: + The impetuous torrents from their hills obey, + Whole fields are drown'd, and mountains swept away; + Loud roars the deluge till it meets the main; + And trembling man sees all his labours vain! + + And now the chief (the foremost troops repell'd) + Back to the ships his destined progress held, + Bore down half Troy in his resistless way, + And forced the routed ranks to stand the day. + Between the space where silver Simois flows, + Where lay the fleets, and where the rampires rose, + All grim in dust and blood Patroclus stands, + And turns the slaughter on the conquering bands. + First Pronous died beneath his fiery dart, + Which pierced below the shield his valiant heart. + Thestor was next, who saw the chief appear, + And fell the victim of his coward fear; + Shrunk up he sat, with wild and haggard eye, + Nor stood to combat, nor had force to fly; + Patroclus mark'd him as he shunn'd the war, + And with unmanly tremblings shook the car, + And dropp'd the flowing reins. Him 'twixt the jaws, + The javelin sticks, and from the chariot draws. + As on a rock that overhangs the main, + An angler, studious of the line and cane, + Some mighty fish draws panting to the shore: + Not with less ease the barbed javelin bore + The gaping dastard; as the spear was shook, + He fell, and life his heartless breast forsook. + + Next on Eryalus he flies; a stone, + Large as a rock, was by his fury thrown: + Full on his crown the ponderous fragment flew, + And burst the helm, and cleft the head in two: + Prone to the ground the breathless warrior fell, + And death involved him with the shades of hell. + Then low in dust Epaltes, Echius, lie; + Ipheas, Evippus, Polymelus, die; + Amphoterus and Erymas succeed; + And last Tlepolemus and Pyres bleed. + Where'er he moves, the growing slaughters spread + In heaps on heaps a monument of dead. + + When now Sarpedon his brave friends beheld + Grovelling in dust, and gasping on the field, + With this reproach his flying host he warms: + "Oh stain to honour! oh disgrace to arms! + Forsake, inglorious, the contended plain; + This hand unaided shall the war sustain: + The task be mine this hero's strength to try, + Who mows whole troops, and makes an army fly." + + He spake: and, speaking, leaps from off the car: + Patroclus lights, and sternly waits the war. + As when two vultures on the mountain's height + Stoop with resounding pinions to the fight; + They cuff, they tear, they raise a screaming cry; + The desert echoes, and the rocks reply: + The warriors thus opposed in arms, engage + With equal clamours, and with equal rage. + + Jove view'd the combat: whose event foreseen, + He thus bespoke his sister and his queen: + "The hour draws on; the destinies ordain,(245) + My godlike son shall press the Phrygian plain: + Already on the verge of death he stands, + His life is owed to fierce Patroclus' hands, + What passions in a parent's breast debate! + Say, shall I snatch him from impending fate, + And send him safe to Lycia, distant far + From all the dangers and the toils of war; + Or to his doom my bravest offspring yield, + And fatten, with celestial blood, the field?" + + Then thus the goddess with the radiant eyes: + "What words are these, O sovereign of the skies! + Short is the date prescribed to mortal man; + Shall Jove for one extend the narrow span, + Whose bounds were fix'd before his race began? + How many sons of gods, foredoom'd to death, + Before proud Ilion must resign their breath! + Were thine exempt, debate would rise above, + And murmuring powers condemn their partial Jove. + Give the bold chief a glorious fate in fight; + And when the ascending soul has wing'd her flight, + Let Sleep and Death convey, by thy command, + The breathless body to his native land. + His friends and people, to his future praise, + A marble tomb and pyramid shall raise, + And lasting honours to his ashes give; + His fame ('tis all the dead can have) shall live." + + She said: the cloud-compeller, overcome, + Assents to fate, and ratifies the doom. + Then touch'd with grief, the weeping heavens distill'd + A shower of blood o'er all the fatal field: + The god, his eyes averting from the plain, + Laments his son, predestined to be slain, + Far from the Lycian shores, his happy native reign. + Now met in arms, the combatants appear; + Each heaved the shield, and poised the lifted spear; + From strong Patroclus' hand the javelin fled, + And pass'd the groin of valiant Thrasymed; + The nerves unbraced no more his bulk sustain, + He falls, and falling bites the bloody plain. + Two sounding darts the Lycian leader threw: + The first aloof with erring fury flew, + The next transpierced Achilles' mortal steed, + The generous Pedasus of Theban breed: + Fix'd in the shoulder's joint, he reel'd around, + Roll'd in the bloody dust, and paw'd the slippery ground. + His sudden fall the entangled harness broke; + Each axle crackled, and the chariot shook: + When bold Automedon, to disengage + The starting coursers, and restrain their rage, + Divides the traces with his sword, and freed + The encumbered chariot from the dying steed: + The rest move on, obedient to the rein: + The car rolls slowly o'er the dusty plain. + + The towering chiefs to fiercer fight advance: + And first Sarpedon whirl'd his weighty lance, + Which o'er the warrior's shoulder took its course, + And spent in empty air its dying force. + Not so Patroclus' never-erring dart; + Aim'd at his breast it pierced a mortal part, + Where the strong fibres bind the solid heart. + Then as the mountain oak, or poplar tall, + Or pine (fit mast for some great admiral) + Nods to the axe, till with a groaning sound + It sinks, and spreads its honours on the ground, + Thus fell the king; and laid on earth supine, + Before his chariot stretch'd his form divine: + He grasp'd the dust distain'd with streaming gore, + And, pale in death, lay groaning on the shore. + So lies a bull beneath the lion's paws, + While the grim savage grinds with foamy jaws + The trembling limbs, and sucks the smoking blood; + Deep groans, and hollow roars, rebellow through the wood. + + Then to the leader of the Lycian band + The dying chief address'd his last command; + "Glaucus, be bold; thy task be first to dare + The glorious dangers of destructive war, + To lead my troops, to combat at their head, + Incite the living, and supply the dead. + Tell them, I charged them with my latest breath + Not unrevenged to bear Sarpedon's death. + What grief, what shame, must Glaucus undergo, + If these spoil'd arms adorn a Grecian foe! + Then as a friend, and as a warrior fight; + Defend my body, conquer in my right: + That, taught by great examples, all may try + Like thee to vanquish, or like me to die." + He ceased; the Fates suppress'd his labouring breath, + And his eyes darken'd with the shades of death. + The insulting victor with disdain bestrode + The prostrate prince, and on his bosom trod; + Then drew the weapon from his panting heart, + The reeking fibres clinging to the dart; + From the wide wound gush'd out a stream of blood, + And the soul issued in the purple flood. + His flying steeds the Myrmidons detain, + Unguided now, their mighty master slain. + All-impotent of aid, transfix'd with grief, + Unhappy Glaucus heard the dying chief: + His painful arm, yet useless with the smart + Inflicted late by Teucer's deadly dart, + Supported on his better hand he stay'd: + To Phoebus then ('twas all he could) he pray'd: + + "All-seeing monarch! whether Lycia's coast, + Or sacred Ilion, thy bright presence boast, + Powerful alike to ease the wretch's smart; + O hear me! god of every healing art! + Lo! stiff with clotted blood, and pierced with pain, + That thrills my arm, and shoots through every vein, + I stand unable to sustain the spear, + And sigh, at distance from the glorious war. + Low in the dust is great Sarpedon laid, + Nor Jove vouchsafed his hapless offspring aid; + But thou, O god of health! thy succour lend, + To guard the relics of my slaughter'd friend: + For thou, though distant, canst restore my might, + To head my Lycians, and support the fight." + + Apollo heard; and, suppliant as he stood, + His heavenly hand restrain'd the flux of blood; + He drew the dolours from the wounded part, + And breathed a spirit in his rising heart. + Renew'd by art divine, the hero stands, + And owns the assistance of immortal hands. + First to the fight his native troops he warms, + Then loudly calls on Troy's vindictive arms; + With ample strides he stalks from place to place; + Now fires Agenor, now Polydamas: + AEneas next, and Hector he accosts; + Inflaming thus the rage of all their hosts. + + "What thoughts, regardless chief! thy breast employ? + Oh too forgetful of the friends of Troy! + Those generous friends, who, from their country far, + Breathe their brave souls out in another's war. + See! where in dust the great Sarpedon lies, + In action valiant, and in council wise, + Who guarded right, and kept his people free; + To all his Lycians lost, and lost to thee! + Stretch'd by Patroclus' arm on yonder plains, + O save from hostile rage his loved remains! + Ah let not Greece his conquer'd trophies boast, + Nor on his corse revenge her heroes lost!" + + He spoke: each leader in his grief partook: + Troy, at the loss, through all her legions shook. + Transfix'd with deep regret, they view o'erthrown + At once his country's pillar, and their own; + A chief, who led to Troy's beleaguer'd wall + A host of heroes, and outshined them all. + Fired, they rush on; first Hector seeks the foes, + And with superior vengeance greatly glows. + + But o'er the dead the fierce Patroclus stands, + And rousing Ajax, roused the listening bands: + + "Heroes, be men; be what you were before; + Or weigh the great occasion, and be more. + The chief who taught our lofty walls to yield, + Lies pale in death, extended on the field. + To guard his body Troy in numbers flies; + Tis half the glory to maintain our prize. + Haste, strip his arms, the slaughter round him spread, + And send the living Lycians to the dead." + + The heroes kindle at his fierce command; + The martial squadrons close on either hand: + Here Troy and Lycia charge with loud alarms, + Thessalia there, and Greece, oppose their arms. + With horrid shouts they circle round the slain; + The clash of armour rings o'er all the plain. + Great Jove, to swell the horrors of the fight, + O'er the fierce armies pours pernicious night, + And round his son confounds the warring hosts, + His fate ennobling with a crowd of ghosts. + + Now Greece gives way, and great Epigeus falls; + Agacleus' son, from Budium's lofty walls; + Who chased for murder thence a suppliant came + To Peleus, and the silver-footed dame; + Now sent to Troy, Achilles' arms to aid, + He pays due vengeance to his kinsman's shade. + Soon as his luckless hand had touch'd the dead, + A rock's large fragment thunder'd on his head; + Hurl'd by Hectorean force it cleft in twain + His shatter'd helm, and stretch'd him o'er the slain. + + Fierce to the van of fight Patroclus came, + And, like an eagle darting at his game, + Sprung on the Trojan and the Lycian band. + What grief thy heart, what fury urged thy hand, + O generous Greek! when with full vigour thrown, + At Sthenelaus flew the weighty stone, + Which sunk him to the dead: when Troy, too near + That arm, drew back; and Hector learn'd to fear. + Far as an able hand a lance can throw, + Or at the lists, or at the fighting foe; + So far the Trojans from their lines retired; + Till Glaucus, turning, all the rest inspired. + Then Bathyclaeus fell beneath his rage, + The only hope of Chalcon's trembling age; + Wide o'er the land was stretch'd his large domain, + With stately seats, and riches blest in vain: + Him, bold with youth, and eager to pursue + The flying Lycians, Glaucus met and slew; + Pierced through the bosom with a sudden wound, + He fell, and falling made the fields resound. + The Achaians sorrow for their heroes slain; + With conquering shouts the Trojans shake the plain, + And crowd to spoil the dead: the Greeks oppose; + An iron circle round the carcase grows. + + Then brave Laogonus resign'd his breath, + Despatch'd by Merion to the shades of death: + On Ida's holy hill he made abode, + The priest of Jove, and honour'd like his god. + Between the jaw and ear the javelin went; + The soul, exhaling, issued at the vent. + His spear Aeneas at the victor threw, + Who stooping forward from the death withdrew; + The lance hiss'd harmless o'er his covering shield, + And trembling struck, and rooted in the field; + There yet scarce spent, it quivers on the plain, + Sent by the great Aeneas' arm in vain. + "Swift as thou art (the raging hero cries) + And skill'd in dancing to dispute the prize, + My spear, the destined passage had it found, + Had fix'd thy active vigour to the ground." + + "O valiant leader of the Dardan host! + (Insulted Merion thus retorts the boast) + Strong as you are, 'tis mortal force you trust, + An arm as strong may stretch thee in the dust. + And if to this my lance thy fate be given, + Vain are thy vaunts; success is still from heaven: + This, instant, sends thee down to Pluto's coast; + Mine is the glory, his thy parting ghost." + + "O friend (Menoetius' son this answer gave) + With words to combat, ill befits the brave; + Not empty boasts the sons of Troy repel, + Your swords must plunge them to the shades of hell. + To speak, beseems the council; but to dare + In glorious action, is the task of war." + + This said, Patroclus to the battle flies; + Great Merion follows, and new shouts arise: + Shields, helmets rattle, as the warriors close; + And thick and heavy sounds the storm of blows. + As through the shrilling vale, or mountain ground, + The labours of the woodman's axe resound; + Blows following blows are heard re-echoing wide, + While crackling forests fall on every side: + Thus echoed all the fields with loud alarms, + So fell the warriors, and so rung their arms. + + Now great Sarpedon on the sandy shore, + His heavenly form defaced with dust and gore, + And stuck with darts by warring heroes shed, + Lies undistinguish'd from the vulgar dead. + His long-disputed corse the chiefs enclose, + On every side the busy combat grows; + Thick as beneath some shepherd's thatch'd abode + (The pails high foaming with a milky flood) + The buzzing flies, a persevering train, + Incessant swarm, and chased return again. + + Jove view'd the combat with a stern survey, + And eyes that flash'd intolerable day. + Fix'd on the field his sight, his breast debates + The vengeance due, and meditates the fates: + Whether to urge their prompt effect, and call + The force of Hector to Patroclus' fall, + This instant see his short-lived trophies won, + And stretch him breathless on his slaughter'd son; + Or yet, with many a soul's untimely flight, + Augment the fame and horror of the fight. + To crown Achilles' valiant friend with praise + At length he dooms; and, that his last of days + Shall set in glory, bids him drive the foe; + Nor unattended see the shades below. + Then Hector's mind he fills with dire dismay; + He mounts his car, and calls his hosts away; + Sunk with Troy's heavy fates, he sees decline + The scales of Jove, and pants with awe divine. + + Then, nor before, the hardy Lycians fled, + And left their monarch with the common dead: + Around, in heaps on heaps, a dreadful wall + Of carnage rises, as the heroes fall. + (So Jove decreed!) At length the Greeks obtain + The prize contested, and despoil the slain. + The radiant arms are by Patroclus borne; + Patroclus' ships the glorious spoils adorn. + + Then thus to Phoebus, in the realms above, + Spoke from his throne the cloud-compelling Jove: + "Descend, my Phoebus! on the Phrygian plain, + And from the fight convey Sarpedon slain; + Then bathe his body in the crystal flood, + With dust dishonour'd, and deform'd with blood; + O'er all his limbs ambrosial odours shed, + And with celestial robes adorn the dead. + Those rites discharged, his sacred corse bequeath + To the soft arms of silent Sleep and Death. + They to his friends the immortal charge shall bear; + His friends a tomb and pyramid shall rear: + What honour mortals after death receive, + Those unavailing honours we may give!" + + [Illustration: SLEEP AND DEATH CONVEYING THE BODY OF SARPEDON TO LYCIA.] + + SLEEP AND DEATH CONVEYING THE BODY OF SARPEDON TO LYCIA. + + + Apollo bows, and from mount Ida's height, + Swift to the field precipitates his flight; + Thence from the war the breathless hero bore, + Veil'd in a cloud, to silver Simois' shore; + There bathed his honourable wounds, and dress'd + His manly members in the immortal vest; + And with perfumes of sweet ambrosial dews + Restores his freshness, and his form renews. + Then Sleep and Death, two twins of winged race, + Of matchless swiftness, but of silent pace, + Received Sarpedon, at the god's command, + And in a moment reach'd the Lycian land; + The corse amidst his weeping friends they laid, + Where endless honours wait the sacred shade. + + Meanwhile Patroclus pours along the plains, + With foaming coursers, and with loosen'd reins. + Fierce on the Trojan and the Lycian crew, + Ah blind to fate! thy headlong fury flew + Against what fate and powerful Jove ordain, + Vain was thy friend's command, thy courage vain. + For he, the god, whose counsels uncontroll'd + Dismay the mighty, and confound the bold; + The god who gives, resumes, and orders all, + He urged thee on, and urged thee on to fall. + + Who first, brave hero! by that arm was slain, + Who last beneath thy vengeance press'd the plain; + When heaven itself thy fatal fury led, + And call'd to fill the number of the dead? + Adrestus first; Autonous then succeeds; + Echeclus follows; next young Megas bleeds, + Epistor, Melanippus, bite the ground; + The slaughter, Elasus and Mulius crown'd: + Then sunk Pylartes to eternal night; + The rest, dispersing, trust their fates to flight. + + Now Troy had stoop'd beneath his matchless power, + But flaming Phoebus kept the sacred tower + Thrice at the battlements Patroclus strook;(246) + His blazing aegis thrice Apollo shook; + He tried the fourth; when, bursting from the cloud, + A more than mortal voice was heard aloud. + + "Patroclus! cease; this heaven-defended wall + Defies thy lance; not fated yet to fall; + Thy friend, thy greater far, it shall withstand, + Troy shall not stoop even to Achilles' hand." + + So spoke the god who darts celestial fires; + The Greek obeys him, and with awe retires. + While Hector, checking at the Scaean gates + His panting coursers, in his breast debates, + Or in the field his forces to employ, + Or draw the troops within the walls of Troy. + Thus while he thought, beside him Phoebus stood, + In Asius' shape, who reigned by Sangar's flood; + (Thy brother, Hecuba! from Dymas sprung, + A valiant warrior, haughty, bold, and young;) + Thus he accosts him. "What a shameful sight! + God! is it Hector that forbears the fight? + Were thine my vigour this successful spear + Should soon convince thee of so false a fear. + Turn thee, ah turn thee to the field of fame, + And in Patroclus' blood efface thy shame. + Perhaps Apollo shall thy arms succeed, + And heaven ordains him by thy lance to bleed." + + So spoke the inspiring god; then took his flight, + And plunged amidst the tumult of the fight. + He bids Cebrion drive the rapid car; + The lash resounds, the coursers rush to war. + The god the Grecians' sinking souls depress'd, + And pour'd swift spirits through each Trojan breast. + Patroclus lights, impatient for the fight; + A spear his left, a stone employs his right: + With all his nerves he drives it at the foe. + Pointed above, and rough and gross below: + The falling ruin crush'd Cebrion's head, + The lawless offspring of king Priam's bed; + His front, brows, eyes, one undistinguish'd wound: + The bursting balls drop sightless to the ground. + The charioteer, while yet he held the rein, + Struck from the car, falls headlong on the plain. + To the dark shades the soul unwilling glides, + While the proud victor thus his fall derides. + + "Good heaven! what active feats yon artist shows! + What skilful divers are our Phrygian foes! + Mark with what ease they sink into the sand! + Pity that all their practice is by land!" + + Then rushing sudden on his prostrate prize, + To spoil the carcase fierce Patroclus flies: + Swift as a lion, terrible and bold, + That sweeps the field, depopulates the fold; + Pierced through the dauntless heart, then tumbles slain, + And from his fatal courage finds his bane. + At once bold Hector leaping from his car, + Defends the body, and provokes the war. + Thus for some slaughter'd hind, with equal rage, + Two lordly rulers of the wood engage; + Stung with fierce hunger, each the prey invades, + And echoing roars rebellow through the shades. + Stern Hector fastens on the warrior's head, + And by the foot Patroclus drags the dead: + While all around, confusion, rage, and fright, + Mix the contending hosts in mortal fight. + So pent by hills, the wild winds roar aloud + In the deep bosom of some gloomy wood; + Leaves, arms, and trees, aloft in air are blown, + The broad oaks crackle, and the Sylvans groan; + This way and that, the rattling thicket bends, + And the whole forest in one crash descends. + Not with less noise, with less tumultuous rage, + In dreadful shock the mingled hosts engage. + Darts shower'd on darts, now round the carcase ring; + Now flights of arrows bounding from the string: + Stones follow stones; some clatter on the fields, + Some hard, and heavy, shake the sounding shields. + But where the rising whirlwind clouds the plains, + Sunk in soft dust the mighty chief remains, + And, stretch'd in death, forgets the guiding reins! + + Now flaming from the zenith, Sol had driven + His fervid orb through half the vault of heaven; + While on each host with equal tempests fell + The showering darts, and numbers sank to hell. + But when his evening wheels o'erhung the main, + Glad conquest rested on the Grecian train. + Then from amidst the tumult and alarms, + They draw the conquer'd corse and radiant arms. + Then rash Patroclus with new fury glows, + And breathing slaughter, pours amid the foes. + Thrice on the press like Mars himself he flew, + And thrice three heroes at each onset slew. + There ends thy glory! there the Fates untwine + The last, black remnant of so bright a line: + Apollo dreadful stops thy middle way; + Death calls, and heaven allows no longer day! + + For lo! the god in dusky clouds enshrined, + Approaching dealt a staggering blow behind. + The weighty shock his neck and shoulders feel; + His eyes flash sparkles, his stunn'd senses reel + In giddy darkness; far to distance flung, + His bounding helmet on the champaign rung. + Achilles' plume is stain'd with dust and gore; + That plume which never stoop'd to earth before; + Long used, untouch'd, in fighting fields to shine, + And shade the temples of the mad divine. + Jove dooms it now on Hector's helm to nod; + Not long--for fate pursues him, and the god. + + His spear in shivers falls; his ample shield + Drops from his arm: his baldric strows the field: + The corslet his astonish'd breast forsakes: + Loose is each joint; each nerve with horror shakes; + Stupid he stares, and all-assistless stands: + Such is the force of more than mortal hands! + + A Dardan youth there was, well known to fame, + From Panthus sprung, Euphorbus was his name; + Famed for the manage of the foaming horse, + Skill'd in the dart, and matchless in the course: + Full twenty knights he tumbled from the car, + While yet he learn'd his rudiments of war. + His venturous spear first drew the hero's gore; + He struck, he wounded, but he durst no more. + Nor, though disarm'd, Patroclus' fury stood: + But swift withdrew the long-protended wood. + And turn'd him short, and herded in the crowd. + Thus, by an arm divine, and mortal spear, + Wounded, at once, Patroclus yields to fear, + Retires for succour to his social train, + And flies the fate, which heaven decreed, in vain. + Stern Hector, as the bleeding chief he views, + Breaks through the ranks, and his retreat pursues: + The lance arrests him with a mortal wound; + He falls, earth thunders, and his arms resound. + With him all Greece was sunk; that moment all + Her yet-surviving heroes seem'd to fall. + So, scorch'd with heat, along the desert score, + The roaming lion meets a bristly boar, + Fast by the spring; they both dispute the flood, + With flaming eyes, and jaws besmear'd with blood; + At length the sovereign savage wins the strife; + And the torn boar resigns his thirst and life. + Patroclus thus, so many chiefs o'erthrown, + So many lives effused, expires his own. + As dying now at Hector's feet he lies, + He sternly views him, and triumphant cries: + + "Lie there, Patroclus! and with thee, the joy + Thy pride once promised, of subverting Troy; + The fancied scenes of Ilion wrapt in flames, + And thy soft pleasures served with captive dames. + Unthinking man! I fought those towers to free, + And guard that beauteous race from lords like thee: + But thou a prey to vultures shalt be made; + Thy own Achilles cannot lend thee aid; + Though much at parting that great chief might say, + And much enjoin thee, this important day. + + 'Return not, my brave friend (perhaps he said), + Without the bloody arms of Hector dead.' + He spoke, Patroclus march'd, and thus he sped." + + Supine, and wildly gazing on the skies, + With faint, expiring breath, the chief replies: + + "Vain boaster! cease, and know the powers divine! + Jove's and Apollo's is this deed, not thine; + To heaven is owed whate'er your own you call, + And heaven itself disarm'd me ere my fall. + Had twenty mortals, each thy match in might, + Opposed me fairly, they had sunk in fight: + By fate and Phoebus was I first o'erthrown, + Euphorbus next; the third mean part thy own. + But thou, imperious! hear my latest breath; + The gods inspire it, and it sounds thy death: + Insulting man, thou shalt be soon as I; + Black fate o'erhangs thee, and thy hour draws nigh; + Even now on life's last verge I see thee stand, + I see thee fall, and by Achilles' hand." + + He faints: the soul unwilling wings her way, + (The beauteous body left a load of clay) + Flits to the lone, uncomfortable coast; + A naked, wandering, melancholy ghost! + + Then Hector pausing, as his eyes he fed + On the pale carcase, thus address'd the dead: + + "From whence this boding speech, the stern decree + Of death denounced, or why denounced to me? + Why not as well Achilles' fate be given + To Hector's lance? Who knows the will of heaven?" + + Pensive he said; then pressing as he lay + His breathless bosom, tore the lance away; + And upwards cast the corse: the reeking spear + He shakes, and charges the bold charioteer. + But swift Automedon with loosen'd reins + Rapt in the chariot o'er the distant plains, + Far from his rage the immortal coursers drove; + The immortal coursers were the gift of Jove. + + [Illustration: AESCULAPIUS.] + + AESCULAPIUS. + + + + + +BOOK XVII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE SEVENTH BATTLE, FOR THE BODY OF PATROCLUS.--THE ACTS OF MENELAUS. + +Menelaus, upon the death of Patroclus, defends his body from the enemy: +Euphorbus, who attempts it, is slain. Hector advancing, Menelaus retires; +but soon returns with Ajax, and drives him off. This, Glaucus objects to +Hector as a flight, who thereupon puts on the armour he had won from +Patroclus, and renews the battle. The Greeks give way, till Ajax rallies +them: Aeneas sustains the Trojans. Aeneas and Hector Attempt the chariot +of Achilles, which is borne off by Automedon. The horses of Achilles +deplore the loss of Patroclus: Jupiter covers his body with a thick +darkness: the noble prayer of Ajax on that occasion. Menelaus sends +Antilochus to Achilles, with the news of Patroclus' death: then returns to +the fight, where, though attacked with the utmost fury, he and Meriones, +assisted by the Ajaces, bear off the body to the ships. + +The time is the evening of the eight-and-twentieth day. The scene lies in +the fields before Troy. + + On the cold earth divine Patroclus spread, + Lies pierced with wounds among the vulgar dead. + Great Menelaus, touch'd with generous woe, + Springs to the front, and guards him from the foe. + Thus round her new-fallen young the heifer moves, + Fruit of her throes, and first-born of her loves; + And anxious (helpless as he lies, and bare) + Turns, and re-turns her, with a mother's care, + Opposed to each that near the carcase came, + His broad shield glimmers, and his lances flame. + + The son of Panthus, skill'd the dart to send, + Eyes the dead hero, and insults the friend. + "This hand, Atrides, laid Patroclus low; + Warrior! desist, nor tempt an equal blow: + To me the spoils my prowess won, resign: + Depart with life, and leave the glory mine" + + The Trojan thus: the Spartan monarch burn'd + With generous anguish, and in scorn return'd: + "Laugh'st thou not, Jove! from thy superior throne, + When mortals boast of prowess not their own? + Not thus the lion glories in his might, + Nor panther braves his spotted foe in fight, + Nor thus the boar (those terrors of the plain;) + Man only vaunts his force, and vaunts in vain. + But far the vainest of the boastful kind, + These sons of Panthus vent their haughty mind. + Yet 'twas but late, beneath my conquering steel + This boaster's brother, Hyperenor, fell; + Against our arm which rashly he defied, + Vain was his vigour, and as vain his pride. + These eyes beheld him on the dust expire, + No more to cheer his spouse, or glad his sire. + Presumptuous youth! like his shall be thy doom, + Go, wait thy brother to the Stygian gloom; + Or, while thou may'st, avoid the threaten'd fate; + Fools stay to feel it, and are wise too late." + + Unmoved, Euphorbus thus: "That action known, + Come, for my brother's blood repay thy own. + His weeping father claims thy destined head, + And spouse, a widow in her bridal bed. + On these thy conquer'd spoils I shall bestow, + To soothe a consort's and a parent's woe. + No longer then defer the glorious strife, + Let heaven decide our fortune, fame, and life." + + Swift as the word the missile lance he flings; + The well-aim'd weapon on the buckler rings, + But blunted by the brass, innoxious falls. + On Jove the father great Atrides calls, + Nor flies the javelin from his arm in vain, + It pierced his throat, and bent him to the plain; + Wide through the neck appears the grisly wound, + Prone sinks the warrior, and his arms resound. + The shining circlets of his golden hair, + Which even the Graces might be proud to wear, + Instarr'd with gems and gold, bestrow the shore, + With dust dishonour'd, and deform'd with gore. + + As the young olive, in some sylvan scene, + Crown'd by fresh fountains with eternal green, + Lifts the gay head, in snowy flowerets fair, + And plays and dances to the gentle air; + When lo! a whirlwind from high heaven invades + The tender plant, and withers all its shades; + It lies uprooted from its genial bed, + A lovely ruin now defaced and dead: + Thus young, thus beautiful, Euphorbus lay, + While the fierce Spartan tore his arms away. + Proud of his deed, and glorious in the prize, + Affrighted Troy the towering victor flies: + Flies, as before some mountain lion's ire + The village curs and trembling swains retire, + When o'er the slaughter'd bull they hear him roar, + And see his jaws distil with smoking gore: + All pale with fear, at distance scatter'd round, + They shout incessant, and the vales resound. + + Meanwhile Apollo view'd with envious eyes, + And urged great Hector to dispute the prize; + (In Mentes' shape, beneath whose martial care + The rough Ciconians learn'd the trade of war;)(247) + "Forbear (he cried) with fruitless speed to chase + Achilles' coursers, of ethereal race; + They stoop not, these, to mortal man's command, + Or stoop to none but great Achilles' hand. + Too long amused with a pursuit so vain, + Turn, and behold the brave Euphorbus slain; + By Sparta slain! for ever now suppress'd + The fire which burn'd in that undaunted breast!" + + Thus having spoke, Apollo wing'd his flight, + And mix'd with mortals in the toils of fight: + His words infix'd unutterable care + Deep in great Hector's soul: through all the war + He darts his anxious eye; and, instant, view'd + The breathless hero in his blood imbued, + (Forth welling from the wound, as prone he lay) + And in the victor's hands the shining prey. + Sheath'd in bright arms, through cleaving ranks he flies, + And sends his voice in thunder to the skies: + Fierce as a flood of flame by Vulcan sent, + It flew, and fired the nations as it went. + Atrides from the voice the storm divined, + And thus explored his own unconquer'd mind: + + "Then shall I quit Patroclus on the plain, + Slain in my cause, and for my honour slain! + Desert the arms, the relics, of my friend? + Or singly, Hector and his troops attend? + Sure where such partial favour heaven bestow'd, + To brave the hero were to brave the god: + Forgive me, Greece, if once I quit the field; + 'Tis not to Hector, but to heaven I yield. + Yet, nor the god, nor heaven, should give me fear, + Did but the voice of Ajax reach my ear: + Still would we turn, still battle on the plains, + And give Achilles all that yet remains + Of his and our Patroclus--" This, no more + The time allow'd: Troy thicken'd on the shore. + A sable scene! The terrors Hector led. + Slow he recedes, and sighing quits the dead. + + So from the fold the unwilling lion parts, + Forced by loud clamours, and a storm of darts; + He flies indeed, but threatens as he flies, + With heart indignant and retorted eyes. + Now enter'd in the Spartan ranks, he turn'd + His manly breast, and with new fury burn'd; + O'er all the black battalions sent his view, + And through the cloud the godlike Ajax knew; + Where labouring on the left the warrior stood, + All grim in arms, and cover'd o'er with blood; + There breathing courage, where the god of day + Had sunk each heart with terror and dismay. + + To him the king: "Oh Ajax, oh my friend! + Haste, and Patroclus' loved remains defend: + The body to Achilles to restore + Demands our care; alas, we can no more! + For naked now, despoiled of arms, he lies; + And Hector glories in the dazzling prize." + He said, and touch'd his heart. The raging pair + Pierced the thick battle, and provoke the war. + Already had stern Hector seized his head, + And doom'd to Trojan gods the unhappy dead; + But soon as Ajax rear'd his tower-like shield, + Sprung to his car, and measured back the field, + His train to Troy the radiant armour bear, + To stand a trophy of his fame in war. + + Meanwhile great Ajax (his broad shield display'd) + Guards the dead hero with the dreadful shade; + And now before, and now behind he stood: + Thus in the centre of some gloomy wood, + With many a step, the lioness surrounds + Her tawny young, beset by men and hounds; + Elate her heart, and rousing all her powers, + Dark o'er the fiery balls each hanging eyebrow lours. + Fast by his side the generous Spartan glows + With great revenge, and feeds his inward woes. + + But Glaucus, leader of the Lycian aids, + On Hector frowning, thus his flight upbraids: + + "Where now in Hector shall we Hector find? + A manly form, without a manly mind. + Is this, O chief! a hero's boasted fame? + How vain, without the merit, is the name! + Since battle is renounced, thy thoughts employ + What other methods may preserve thy Troy: + 'Tis time to try if Ilion's state can stand + By thee alone, nor ask a foreign hand: + Mean, empty boast! but shall the Lycians stake + Their lives for you? those Lycians you forsake? + What from thy thankless arms can we expect? + Thy friend Sarpedon proves thy base neglect; + Say, shall our slaughter'd bodies guard your walls, + While unreveng'd the great Sarpedon falls? + Even where he died for Troy, you left him there, + A feast for dogs, and all the fowls of air. + On my command if any Lycian wait, + Hence let him march, and give up Troy to fate. + Did such a spirit as the gods impart + Impel one Trojan hand or Trojan heart, + (Such as should burn in every soul that draws + The sword for glory, and his country's cause) + Even yet our mutual arms we might employ, + And drag yon carcase to the walls of Troy. + Oh! were Patroclus ours, we might obtain + Sarpedon's arms and honour'd corse again! + Greece with Achilles' friend should be repaid, + And thus due honours purchased to his shade. + But words are vain--Let Ajax once appear, + And Hector trembles and recedes with fear; + Thou dar'st not meet the terrors of his eye; + And lo! already thou prepar'st to fly." + + The Trojan chief with fix'd resentment eyed + The Lycian leader, and sedate replied: + + "Say, is it just, my friend, that Hector's ear + From such a warrior such a speech should hear? + I deem'd thee once the wisest of thy kind, + But ill this insult suits a prudent mind. + I shun great Ajax? I desert my train? + 'Tis mine to prove the rash assertion vain; + I joy to mingle where the battle bleeds, + And hear the thunder of the sounding steeds. + But Jove's high will is ever uncontroll'd, + The strong he withers, and confounds the bold; + Now crowns with fame the mighty man, and now + Strikes the fresh garland from the victor's brow! + Come, through yon squadrons let us hew the way, + And thou be witness, if I fear to-day; + If yet a Greek the sight of Hector dread, + Or yet their hero dare defend the dead." + + Then turning to the martial hosts, he cries: + "Ye Trojans, Dardans, Lycians, and allies! + Be men, my friends, in action as in name, + And yet be mindful of your ancient fame. + Hector in proud Achilles' arms shall shine, + Torn from his friend, by right of conquest mine." + + He strode along the field, as thus he said: + (The sable plumage nodded o'er his head:) + Swift through the spacious plain he sent a look; + One instant saw, one instant overtook + The distant band, that on the sandy shore + The radiant spoils to sacred Ilion bore. + There his own mail unbraced the field bestrow'd; + His train to Troy convey'd the massy load. + Now blazing in the immortal arms he stands; + The work and present of celestial hands; + By aged Peleus to Achilles given, + As first to Peleus by the court of heaven: + His father's arms not long Achilles wears, + Forbid by fate to reach his father's years. + + Him, proud in triumph, glittering from afar, + The god whose thunder rends the troubled air + Beheld with pity; as apart he sat, + And, conscious, look'd through all the scene of fate. + He shook the sacred honours of his head; + Olympus trembled, and the godhead said; + "Ah, wretched man! unmindful of thy end! + A moment's glory; and what fates attend! + In heavenly panoply divinely bright + Thou stand'st, and armies tremble at thy sight, + As at Achilles' self! beneath thy dart + Lies slain the great Achilles' dearer part. + Thou from the mighty dead those arms hast torn, + Which once the greatest of mankind had worn. + Yet live! I give thee one illustrious day, + A blaze of glory ere thou fad'st away. + For ah! no more Andromache shall come + With joyful tears to welcome Hector home; + No more officious, with endearing charms, + From thy tired limbs unbrace Pelides' arms!" + + Then with his sable brow he gave the nod + That seals his word; the sanction of the god. + The stubborn arms (by Jove's command disposed) + Conform'd spontaneous, and around him closed: + Fill'd with the god, enlarged his members grew, + Through all his veins a sudden vigour flew, + The blood in brisker tides began to roll, + And Mars himself came rushing on his soul. + Exhorting loud through all the field he strode, + And look'd, and moved, Achilles, or a god. + Now Mesthles, Glaucus, Medon, he inspires, + Now Phorcys, Chromius, and Hippothous fires; + The great Thersilochus like fury found, + Asteropaeus kindled at the sound, + And Ennomus, in augury renown'd. + + "Hear, all ye hosts, and hear, unnumber'd bands + Of neighbouring nations, or of distant lands! + 'Twas not for state we summon'd you so far, + To boast our numbers, and the pomp of war: + Ye came to fight; a valiant foe to chase, + To save our present, and our future race. + Tor this, our wealth, our products, you enjoy, + And glean the relics of exhausted Troy. + Now then, to conquer or to die prepare; + To die or conquer are the terms of war. + Whatever hand shall win Patroclus slain, + Whoe'er shall drag him to the Trojan train, + With Hector's self shall equal honours claim; + With Hector part the spoil, and share the fame." + + Fired by his words, the troops dismiss their fears, + They join, they thicken, they protend their spears; + Full on the Greeks they drive in firm array, + And each from Ajax hopes the glorious prey: + Vain hope! what numbers shall the field o'erspread, + What victims perish round the mighty dead! + + Great Ajax mark'd the growing storm from far, + And thus bespoke his brother of the war: + "Our fatal day, alas! is come, my friend; + And all our wars and glories at an end! + 'Tis not this corse alone we guard in vain, + Condemn'd to vultures on the Trojan plain; + We too must yield: the same sad fate must fall + On thee, on me, perhaps, my friend, on all. + See what a tempest direful Hector spreads, + And lo! it bursts, it thunders on our heads! + Call on our Greeks, if any hear the call, + The bravest Greeks: this hour demands them all." + + The warrior raised his voice, and wide around + The field re-echoed the distressful sound. + "O chiefs! O princes, to whose hand is given + The rule of men; whose glory is from heaven! + Whom with due honours both Atrides grace: + Ye guides and guardians of our Argive race! + All, whom this well-known voice shall reach from far, + All, whom I see not through this cloud of war; + Come all! let generous rage your arms employ, + And save Patroclus from the dogs of Troy." + + Oilean Ajax first the voice obey'd, + Swift was his pace, and ready was his aid: + Next him Idomeneus, more slow with age, + And Merion, burning with a hero's rage. + The long-succeeding numbers who can name? + But all were Greeks, and eager all for fame. + Fierce to the charge great Hector led the throng; + Whole Troy embodied rush'd with shouts along. + Thus, when a mountain billow foams and raves, + Where some swoln river disembogues his waves, + Full in the mouth is stopp'd the rushing tide, + The boiling ocean works from side to side, + The river trembles to his utmost shore, + And distant rocks re-bellow to the roar. + + Nor less resolved, the firm Achaian band + With brazen shields in horrid circle stand. + Jove, pouring darkness o'er the mingled fight, + Conceals the warriors' shining helms in night: + To him, the chief for whom the hosts contend + Had lived not hateful, for he lived a friend: + Dead he protects him with superior care. + Nor dooms his carcase to the birds of air. + + [Illustration: FIGHT FOR THE BODY OF PATROCLUS.] + + FIGHT FOR THE BODY OF PATROCLUS. + + + The first attack the Grecians scarce sustain, + Repulsed, they yield; the Trojans seize the slain. + Then fierce they rally, to revenge led on + By the swift rage of Ajax Telamon. + (Ajax to Peleus' son the second name, + In graceful stature next, and next in fame) + With headlong force the foremost ranks he tore; + So through the thicket bursts the mountain boar, + And rudely scatters, for a distance round, + The frighted hunter and the baying hound. + The son of Lethus, brave Pelasgus' heir, + Hippothous, dragg'd the carcase through the war; + The sinewy ankles bored, the feet he bound + With thongs inserted through the double wound: + Inevitable fate o'ertakes the deed; + Doom'd by great Ajax' vengeful lance to bleed: + It cleft the helmet's brazen cheeks in twain; + The shatter'd crest and horse-hair strow the plain: + With nerves relax'd he tumbles to the ground: + The brain comes gushing through the ghastly wound: + He drops Patroclus' foot, and o'er him spread, + Now lies a sad companion of the dead: + Far from Larissa lies, his native air, + And ill requites his parents' tender care. + Lamented youth! in life's first bloom he fell, + Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell. + + Once more at Ajax Hector's javelin flies; + The Grecian marking, as it cut the skies, + Shunn'd the descending death; which hissing on, + Stretch'd in the dust the great Iphytus' son, + Schedius the brave, of all the Phocian kind + The boldest warrior and the noblest mind: + In little Panope, for strength renown'd, + He held his seat, and ruled the realms around. + Plunged in his throat, the weapon drank his blood, + And deep transpiercing through the shoulder stood; + In clanging arms the hero fell and all + The fields resounded with his weighty fall. + + Phorcys, as slain Hippothous he defends, + The Telamonian lance his belly rends; + The hollow armour burst before the stroke, + And through the wound the rushing entrails broke: + In strong convulsions panting on the sands + He lies, and grasps the dust with dying hands. + + Struck at the sight, recede the Trojan train: + The shouting Argives strip the heroes slain. + And now had Troy, by Greece compell'd to yield, + Fled to her ramparts, and resign'd the field; + Greece, in her native fortitude elate, + With Jove averse, had turn'd the scale of fate: + But Phoebus urged AEneas to the fight; + He seem'd like aged Periphas to sight: + (A herald in Anchises' love grown old, + Revered for prudence, and with prudence bold.) + + Thus he--"What methods yet, O chief! remain, + To save your Troy, though heaven its fall ordain? + There have been heroes, who, by virtuous care, + By valour, numbers, and by arts of war, + Have forced the powers to spare a sinking state, + And gain'd at length the glorious odds of fate: + But you, when fortune smiles, when Jove declares + His partial favour, and assists your wars, + Your shameful efforts 'gainst yourselves employ, + And force the unwilling god to ruin Troy." + + AEneas through the form assumed descries + The power conceal'd, and thus to Hector cries: + "Oh lasting shame! to our own fears a prey, + We seek our ramparts, and desert the day. + A god, nor is he less, my bosom warms, + And tells me, Jove asserts the Trojan arms." + + He spoke, and foremost to the combat flew: + The bold example all his hosts pursue. + Then, first, Leocritus beneath him bled, + In vain beloved by valiant Lycomede; + Who view'd his fall, and, grieving at the chance, + Swift to revenge it sent his angry lance; + The whirling lance, with vigorous force address'd, + Descends, and pants in Apisaon's breast; + From rich Paeonia's vales the warrior came, + Next thee, Asteropeus! in place and fame. + Asteropeus with grief beheld the slain, + And rush'd to combat, but he rush'd in vain: + Indissolubly firm, around the dead, + Rank within rank, on buckler buckler spread, + And hemm'd with bristled spears, the Grecians stood, + A brazen bulwark, and an iron wood. + Great Ajax eyes them with incessant care, + And in an orb contracts the crowded war, + Close in their ranks commands to fight or fall, + And stands the centre and the soul of all: + Fix'd on the spot they war, and wounded, wound + A sanguine torrent steeps the reeking ground: + On heaps the Greeks, on heaps the Trojans bled, + And, thickening round them, rise the hills of dead. + + Greece, in close order, and collected might, + Yet suffers least, and sways the wavering fight; + Fierce as conflicting fires the combat burns, + And now it rises, now it sinks by turns. + In one thick darkness all the fight was lost; + The sun, the moon, and all the ethereal host + Seem'd as extinct: day ravish'd from their eyes, + And all heaven's splendours blotted from the skies. + Such o'er Patroclus' body hung the night, + The rest in sunshine fought, and open light; + Unclouded there, the aerial azure spread, + No vapour rested on the mountain's head, + The golden sun pour'd forth a stronger ray, + And all the broad expansion flamed with day. + Dispersed around the plain, by fits they fight, + And here and there their scatter'd arrows light: + But death and darkness o'er the carcase spread, + There burn'd the war, and there the mighty bled. + + Meanwhile the sons of Nestor, in the rear, + (Their fellows routed,) toss the distant spear, + And skirmish wide: so Nestor gave command, + When from the ships he sent the Pylian band. + The youthful brothers thus for fame contend, + Nor knew the fortune of Achilles' friend; + In thought they view'd him still, with martial joy, + Glorious in arms, and dealing death to Troy. + + But round the corse the heroes pant for breath, + And thick and heavy grows the work of death: + O'erlabour'd now, with dust, and sweat, and gore, + Their knees, their legs, their feet, are covered o'er; + Drops follow drops, the clouds on clouds arise, + And carnage clogs their hands, and darkness fills their eyes. + As when a slaughter'd bull's yet reeking hide, + Strain'd with full force, and tugg'd from side to side, + The brawny curriers stretch; and labour o'er + The extended surface, drunk with fat and gore: + So tugging round the corse both armies stood; + The mangled body bathed in sweat and blood; + While Greeks and Ilians equal strength employ, + Now to the ships to force it, now to Troy. + Not Pallas' self, her breast when fury warms, + Nor he whose anger sets the world in arms, + Could blame this scene; such rage, such horror reign'd; + Such, Jove to honour the great dead ordain'd. + + Achilles in his ships at distance lay, + Nor knew the fatal fortune of the day; + He, yet unconscious of Patroclus' fall, + In dust extended under Ilion's wall, + Expects him glorious from the conquered plain, + And for his wish'd return prepares in vain; + Though well he knew, to make proud Ilion bend + Was more than heaven had destined to his friend. + Perhaps to him: this Thetis had reveal'd; + The rest, in pity to her son, conceal'd. + + Still raged the conflict round the hero dead, + And heaps on heaps by mutual wounds they bled. + "Cursed be the man (even private Greeks would say) + Who dares desert this well-disputed day! + First may the cleaving earth before our eyes + Gape wide, and drink our blood for sacrifice; + First perish all, ere haughty Troy shall boast + We lost Patroclus, and our glory lost!" + + Thus they: while with one voice the Trojans said, + "Grant this day, Jove! or heap us on the dead!" + + Then clash their sounding arms; the clangours rise, + And shake the brazen concave of the skies. + + Meantime, at distance from the scene of blood, + The pensive steeds of great Achilles stood: + Their godlike master slain before their eyes, + They wept, and shared in human miseries.(248) + In vain Automedon now shakes the rein, + Now plies the lash, and soothes and threats in vain; + Nor to the fight nor Hellespont they go, + Restive they stood, and obstinate in woe: + Still as a tombstone, never to be moved, + On some good man or woman unreproved + Lays its eternal weight; or fix'd, as stands + A marble courser by the sculptor's hands, + Placed on the hero's grave. Along their face + The big round drops coursed down with silent pace, + Conglobing on the dust. Their manes, that late + Circled their arched necks, and waved in state, + Trail'd on the dust beneath the yoke were spread, + And prone to earth was hung their languid head: + Nor Jove disdain'd to cast a pitying look, + While thus relenting to the steeds he spoke: + + "Unhappy coursers of immortal strain, + Exempt from age, and deathless, now in vain; + Did we your race on mortal man bestow, + Only, alas! to share in mortal woe? + For ah! what is there of inferior birth, + That breathes or creeps upon the dust of earth; + What wretched creature of what wretched kind, + Than man more weak, calamitous, and blind? + A miserable race! but cease to mourn: + For not by you shall Priam's son be borne + High on the splendid car: one glorious prize + He rashly boasts: the rest our will denies. + Ourself will swiftness to your nerves impart, + Ourself with rising spirits swell your heart. + Automedon your rapid flight shall bear + Safe to the navy through the storm of war. + For yet 'tis given to Troy to ravage o'er + The field, and spread her slaughters to the shore; + The sun shall see her conquer, till his fall + With sacred darkness shades the face of all." + + He said; and breathing in the immortal horse + Excessive spirit, urged them to the course; + From their high manes they shake the dust, and bear + The kindling chariot through the parted war: + So flies a vulture through the clamorous train + Of geese, that scream, and scatter round the plain. + From danger now with swiftest speed they flew, + And now to conquest with like speed pursue; + Sole in the seat the charioteer remains, + Now plies the javelin, now directs the reins: + Him brave Alcimedon beheld distress'd, + Approach'd the chariot, and the chief address'd: + + "What god provokes thee rashly thus to dare, + Alone, unaided, in the thickest war? + Alas! thy friend is slain, and Hector wields + Achilles' arms triumphant in the fields." + + "In happy time (the charioteer replies) + The bold Alcimedon now greets my eyes; + No Greek like him the heavenly steeds restrains, + Or holds their fury in suspended reins: + Patroclus, while he lived, their rage could tame, + But now Patroclus is an empty name! + To thee I yield the seat, to thee resign + The ruling charge: the task of fight be mine." + + He said. Alcimedon, with active heat, + Snatches the reins, and vaults into the seat. + His friend descends. The chief of Troy descried, + And call'd AEneas fighting near his side. + + "Lo, to my sight, beyond our hope restored, + Achilles' car, deserted of its lord! + The glorious steeds our ready arms invite, + Scarce their weak drivers guide them through the fight. + Can such opponents stand when we assail? + Unite thy force, my friend, and we prevail." + + The son of Venus to the counsel yields; + Then o'er their backs they spread their solid shields: + With brass refulgent the broad surface shined, + And thick bull-hides the spacious concave lined. + Them Chromius follows, Aretus succeeds; + Each hopes the conquest of the lofty steeds: + In vain, brave youths, with glorious hopes ye burn, + In vain advance! not fated to return. + + Unmov'd, Automedon attends the fight, + Implores the Eternal, and collects his might. + Then turning to his friend, with dauntless mind: + "Oh keep the foaming coursers close behind! + Full on my shoulders let their nostrils blow, + For hard the fight, determined is the foe; + 'Tis Hector comes: and when he seeks the prize, + War knows no mean; he wins it or he dies." + + Then through the field he sends his voice aloud, + And calls the Ajaces from the warring crowd, + With great Atrides. "Hither turn, (he said,) + Turn where distress demands immediate aid; + The dead, encircled by his friends, forego, + And save the living from a fiercer foe. + Unhelp'd we stand, unequal to engage + The force of Hector, and AEneas' rage: + Yet mighty as they are, my force to prove + Is only mine: the event belongs to Jove." + + He spoke, and high the sounding javelin flung, + Which pass'd the shield of Aretus the young: + It pierced his belt, emboss'd with curious art, + Then in the lower belly struck the dart. + As when a ponderous axe, descending full, + Cleaves the broad forehead of some brawny bull:(249) + Struck 'twixt the horns, he springs with many a bound, + Then tumbling rolls enormous on the ground: + Thus fell the youth; the air his soul received, + And the spear trembled as his entrails heaved. + + Now at Automedon the Trojan foe + Discharged his lance; the meditated blow, + Stooping, he shunn'd; the javelin idly fled, + And hiss'd innoxious o'er the hero's head; + Deep rooted in the ground, the forceful spear + In long vibrations spent its fury there. + With clashing falchions now the chiefs had closed, + But each brave Ajax heard, and interposed; + Nor longer Hector with his Trojans stood, + But left their slain companion in his blood: + His arms Automedon divests, and cries, + "Accept, Patroclus, this mean sacrifice: + Thus have I soothed my griefs, and thus have paid, + Poor as it is, some offering to thy shade." + + So looks the lion o'er a mangled boar, + All grim with rage, and horrible with gore; + High on the chariot at one bound he sprung, + And o'er his seat the bloody trophies hung. + + And now Minerva from the realms of air + Descends impetuous, and renews the war; + For, pleased at length the Grecian arms to aid, + The lord of thunders sent the blue-eyed maid. + As when high Jove denouncing future woe, + O'er the dark clouds extends his purple bow, + (In sign of tempests from the troubled air, + Or from the rage of man, destructive war,) + The drooping cattle dread the impending skies, + And from his half-till'd field the labourer flies: + In such a form the goddess round her drew + A livid cloud, and to the battle flew. + Assuming Phoenix' shape on earth she falls, + And in his well-known voice to Sparta calls: + "And lies Achilles' friend, beloved by all, + A prey to dogs beneath the Trojan wall? + What shame 'o Greece for future times to tell, + To thee the greatest in whose cause he fell!" + "O chief, O father! (Atreus' son replies) + O full of days! by long experience wise! + What more desires my soul, than here unmoved + To guard the body of the man I loved? + Ah, would Minerva send me strength to rear + This wearied arm, and ward the storm of war! + But Hector, like the rage of fire, we dread, + And Jove's own glories blaze around his head!" + + Pleased to be first of all the powers address'd, + She breathes new vigour in her hero's breast, + And fills with keen revenge, with fell despite, + Desire of blood, and rage, and lust of fight. + So burns the vengeful hornet (soul all o'er), + Repulsed in vain, and thirsty still of gore; + (Bold son of air and heat) on angry wings + Untamed, untired, he turns, attacks, and stings. + Fired with like ardour fierce Atrides flew, + And sent his soul with every lance he threw. + + There stood a Trojan, not unknown to fame, + Aetion's son, and Podes was his name: + With riches honour'd, and with courage bless'd, + By Hector loved, his comrade, and his guest; + Through his broad belt the spear a passage found, + And, ponderous as he falls, his arms resound. + Sudden at Hector's side Apollo stood, + Like Phaenops, Asius' son, appear'd the god; + (Asius the great, who held his wealthy reign + In fair Abydos, by the rolling main.) + + "Oh prince! (he cried) Oh foremost once in fame! + What Grecian now shall tremble at thy name? + Dost thou at length to Menelaus yield, + A chief once thought no terror of the field? + Yet singly, now, the long-disputed prize + He bears victorious, while our army flies: + By the same arm illustrious Podes bled; + The friend of Hector, unrevenged, is dead!" + This heard, o'er Hector spreads a cloud of woe, + Rage lifts his lance, and drives him on the foe. + + But now the Eternal shook his sable shield, + That shaded Ide and all the subject field + Beneath its ample verge. A rolling cloud + Involved the mount; the thunder roar'd aloud; + The affrighted hills from their foundations nod, + And blaze beneath the lightnings of the god: + At one regard of his all-seeing eye + The vanquish'd triumph, and the victors fly. + + Then trembled Greece: the flight Peneleus led; + For as the brave Boeotian turn'd his head + To face the foe, Polydamas drew near, + And razed his shoulder with a shorten'd spear: + By Hector wounded, Leitus quits the plain, + Pierced through the wrist; and raging with the pain, + Grasps his once formidable lance in vain. + + As Hector follow'd, Idomen address'd + The flaming javelin to his manly breast; + The brittle point before his corslet yields; + Exulting Troy with clamour fills the fields: + High on his chariots the Cretan stood, + The son of Priam whirl'd the massive wood. + But erring from its aim, the impetuous spear + Struck to the dust the squire and charioteer + Of martial Merion: Coeranus his name, + Who left fair Lyctus for the fields of fame. + On foot bold Merion fought; and now laid low, + Had graced the triumphs of his Trojan foe, + But the brave squire the ready coursers brought, + And with his life his master's safety bought. + Between his cheek and ear the weapon went, + The teeth it shatter'd, and the tongue it rent. + Prone from the seat he tumbles to the plain; + His dying hand forgets the falling rein: + This Merion reaches, bending from the car, + And urges to desert the hopeless war: + Idomeneus consents; the lash applies; + And the swift chariot to the navy flies. + + Not Ajax less the will of heaven descried, + And conquest shifting to the Trojan side, + Turn'd by the hand of Jove. Then thus begun, + To Atreus's seed, the godlike Telamon: + + "Alas! who sees not Jove's almighty hand + Transfers the glory to the Trojan band? + Whether the weak or strong discharge the dart, + He guides each arrow to a Grecian heart: + Not so our spears; incessant though they rain, + He suffers every lance to fall in vain. + Deserted of the god, yet let us try + What human strength and prudence can supply; + If yet this honour'd corse, in triumph borne, + May glad the fleets that hope not our return, + Who tremble yet, scarce rescued from their fates, + And still hear Hector thundering at their gates. + Some hero too must be despatch'd to bear + The mournful message to Pelides' ear; + For sure he knows not, distant on the shore, + His friend, his loved Patroclus, is no more. + But such a chief I spy not through the host: + The men, the steeds, the armies, all are lost + In general darkness--Lord of earth and air! + Oh king! Oh father! hear my humble prayer: + Dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore; + Give me to see, and Ajax asks no more: + If Greece must perish, we thy will obey, + But let us perish in the face of day!" + + With tears the hero spoke, and at his prayer + The god relenting clear'd the clouded air; + Forth burst the sun with all-enlightening ray; + The blaze of armour flash'd against the day. + "Now, now, Atrides! cast around thy sight; + If yet Antilochus survives the fight, + Let him to great Achilles' ear convey + The fatal news"--Atrides hastes away. + + So turns the lion from the nightly fold, + Though high in courage, and with hunger bold, + Long gall'd by herdsmen, and long vex'd by hounds, + Stiff with fatigue, and fretted sore with wounds; + The darts fly round him from a hundred hands, + And the red terrors of the blazing brands: + Till late, reluctant, at the dawn of day + Sour he departs, and quits the untasted prey, + So moved Atrides from his dangerous place + With weary limbs, but with unwilling pace; + The foe, he fear'd, might yet Patroclus gain, + And much admonish'd, much adjured his train: + + "O guard these relics to your charge consign'd, + And bear the merits of the dead in mind; + How skill'd he was in each obliging art; + The mildest manners, and the gentlest heart: + He was, alas! but fate decreed his end, + In death a hero, as in life a friend!" + + So parts the chief; from rank to rank he flew, + And round on all sides sent his piercing view. + As the bold bird, endued with sharpest eye + Of all that wings the mid aerial sky, + The sacred eagle, from his walks above + Looks down, and sees the distant thicket move; + Then stoops, and sousing on the quivering hare, + Snatches his life amid the clouds of air. + Not with less quickness, his exerted sight + Pass'd this and that way, through the ranks of fight: + Till on the left the chief he sought, he found, + Cheering his men, and spreading deaths around: + + To him the king: "Beloved of Jove! draw near, + For sadder tidings never touch'd thy ear; + Thy eyes have witness'd what a fatal turn! + How Ilion triumphs, and the Achaians mourn. + This is not all: Patroclus, on the shore + Now pale and dead, shall succour Greece no more. + Fly to the fleet, this instant fly, and tell + The sad Achilles, how his loved-one fell: + He too may haste the naked corse to gain: + The arms are Hector's, who despoil'd the slain." + + The youthful warrior heard with silent woe, + From his fair eyes the tears began to flow: + Big with the mighty grief, he strove to say + What sorrow dictates, but no word found way. + To brave Laodocus his arms he flung, + Who, near him wheeling, drove his steeds along; + Then ran the mournful message to impart, + With tearful eyes, and with dejected heart. + + Swift fled the youth: nor Menelaus stands + (Though sore distress'd) to aid the Pylian bands; + But bids bold Thrasymede those troops sustain; + Himself returns to his Patroclus slain. + "Gone is Antilochus (the hero said); + But hope not, warriors, for Achilles' aid: + Though fierce his rage, unbounded be his woe, + Unarm'd, he fights not with the Trojan foe. + 'Tis in our hands alone our hopes remain, + 'Tis our own vigour must the dead regain, + And save ourselves, while with impetuous hate + Troy pours along, and this way rolls our fate." + + "'Tis well (said Ajax), be it then thy care, + With Merion's aid, the weighty corse to rear; + Myself, and my bold brother will sustain + The shock of Hector and his charging train: + Nor fear we armies, fighting side by side; + What Troy can dare, we have already tried, + Have tried it, and have stood." The hero said. + High from the ground the warriors heave the dead. + A general clamour rises at the sight: + Loud shout the Trojans, and renew the fight. + Not fiercer rush along the gloomy wood, + With rage insatiate, and with thirst of blood, + Voracious hounds, that many a length before + Their furious hunters, drive the wounded boar; + But if the savage turns his glaring eye, + They howl aloof, and round the forest fly. + Thus on retreating Greece the Trojans pour, + Wave their thick falchions, and their javelins shower: + But Ajax turning, to their fears they yield, + All pale they tremble and forsake the field. + + While thus aloft the hero's corse they bear, + Behind them rages all the storm of war: + Confusion, tumult, horror, o'er the throng + Of men, steeds, chariots, urged the rout along: + Less fierce the winds with rising flames conspire + To whelm some city under waves of fire; + Now sink in gloomy clouds the proud abodes, + Now crack the blazing temples of the gods; + The rumbling torrent through the ruin rolls, + And sheets of smoke mount heavy to the poles. + The heroes sweat beneath their honour'd load: + As when two mules, along the rugged road, + From the steep mountain with exerted strength + Drag some vast beam, or mast's unwieldy length; + Inly they groan, big drops of sweat distil, + The enormous timber lumbering down the hill: + So these--Behind, the bulk of Ajax stands, + And breaks the torrent of the rushing bands. + Thus when a river swell'd with sudden rains + Spreads his broad waters o'er the level plains, + Some interposing hill the stream divides. + And breaks its force, and turns the winding tides. + Still close they follow, close the rear engage; + Aeneas storms, and Hector foams with rage: + While Greece a heavy, thick retreat maintains, + Wedged in one body, like a flight of cranes, + That shriek incessant, while the falcon, hung + High on poised pinions, threats their callow young. + So from the Trojan chiefs the Grecians fly, + Such the wild terror, and the mingled cry: + Within, without the trench, and all the way, + Strow'd in bright heaps, their arms and armour lay; + Such horror Jove impress'd! yet still proceeds + The work of death, and still the battle bleeds. + + [Illustration: VULCAN FROM AN ANTIQUE GEM.] + + VULCAN FROM AN ANTIQUE GEM. + + + + + +BOOK XVIII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE GRIEF OF ACHILLES, AND NEW ARMOUR MADE HIM BY VULCAN. + +The news of the death of Patroclus is brought to Achilles by Antilochus. +Thetis, hearing his lamentations, comes with all her sea- nymphs to +comfort him. The speeches of the mother and son on this occasion. Iris +appears to Achilles by the command of Juno, and orders him to show himself +at the head of the intrenchments. The sight of him turns the fortunes of +the day, and the body of Patroclus is carried off by the Greeks. The +Trojans call a council, where Hector and Polydamas disagree in their +opinions: but the advice of the former prevails, to remain encamped in the +field. The grief of Achilles over the body of Patroclus. + +Thetis goes to the palace of Vulcan to obtain new arms for her son. The +description of the wonderful works of Vulcan: and, lastly, that noble one +of the shield of Achilles. + +The latter part of the nine-and-twentieth day, and the night ensuing, take +up this book: the scene is at Achilles' tent on the sea-shore, from whence +it changes to the palace of Vulcan. + + Thus like the rage of fire the combat burns,(250) + And now it rises, now it sinks by turns. + Meanwhile, where Hellespont's broad waters flow, + Stood Nestor's son, the messenger of woe: + There sat Achilles, shaded by his sails, + On hoisted yards extended to the gales; + Pensive he sat; for all that fate design'd + Rose in sad prospect to his boding mind. + Thus to his soul he said: "Ah! what constrains + The Greeks, late victors, now to quit the plains? + Is this the day, which heaven so long ago + Ordain'd, to sink me with the weight of woe? + (So Thetis warn'd;) when by a Trojan hand + The bravest of the Myrmidonian band + Should lose the light! Fulfilled is that decree; + Fallen is the warrior, and Patroclus he! + In vain I charged him soon to quit the plain, + And warn'd to shun Hectorean force in vain!" + + Thus while he thinks, Antilochus appears, + And tells the melancholy tale with tears. + "Sad tidings, son of Peleus! thou must hear; + And wretched I, the unwilling messenger! + Dead is Patroclus! For his corse they fight; + His naked corse: his arms are Hector's right." + + A sudden horror shot through all the chief, + And wrapp'd his senses in the cloud of grief; + Cast on the ground, with furious hands he spread + The scorching ashes o'er his graceful head; + His purple garments, and his golden hairs, + Those he deforms with dust, and these he tears; + On the hard soil his groaning breast he threw, + And roll'd and grovell'd, as to earth he grew. + The virgin captives, with disorder'd charms, + (Won by his own, or by Patroclus' arms,) + Rush'd from their tents with cries; and gathering round, + Beat their white breasts, and fainted on the ground: + While Nestor's son sustains a manlier part, + And mourns the warrior with a warrior's heart; + Hangs on his arms, amidst his frantic woe, + And oft prevents the meditated blow. + + Far in the deep abysses of the main,(251) + With hoary Nereus, and the watery train, + The mother-goddess from her crystal throne + Heard his loud cries, and answer'd groan for groan. + The circling Nereids with their mistress weep, + And all the sea-green sisters of the deep. + Thalia, Glauce (every watery name), + Nesaea mild, and silver Spio came: + Cymothoe and Cymodoce were nigh, + And the blue languish of soft Alia's eye. + Their locks Actaea and Limnoria rear, + Then Proto, Doris, Panope appear, + Thoa, Pherusa, Doto, Melita; + Agave gentle, and Amphithoe gay: + Next Callianira, Callianassa show + Their sister looks; Dexamene the slow, + And swift Dynamene, now cut the tides: + Iaera now the verdant wave divides: + Nemertes with Apseudes lifts the head, + Bright Galatea quits her pearly bed; + These Orythia, Clymene, attend, + Maera, Amphinome, the train extend; + And black Janira, and Janassa fair, + And Amatheia with her amber hair. + All these, and all that deep in ocean held + Their sacred seats, the glimmering grotto fill'd; + Each beat her ivory breast with silent woe, + Till Thetis' sorrows thus began to flow: + + "Hear me, and judge, ye sisters of the main! + How just a cause has Thetis to complain! + How wretched, were I mortal, were my fate! + How more than wretched in the immortal state! + Sprung from my bed a godlike hero came, + The bravest far that ever bore the name; + Like some fair olive, by my careful hand + He grew, he flourish'd and adorn'd the land + To Troy I sent him: but the fates ordain + He never, never must return again. + So short a space the light of heaven to view, + So short, alas! and fill'd with anguish too! + Hear how his sorrows echo through the shore! + I cannot ease them, but I must deplore; + I go at least to bear a tender part, + And mourn my loved-one with a mother's heart." + + She said, and left the caverns of the main, + All bathed in tears; the melancholy train + Attend her way. Wide-opening part the tides, + While the long pomp the silver wave divides. + Approaching now, they touch'd the Trojan land; + Then, two by two, ascended up the strand. + The immortal mother, standing close beside + Her mournful offspring, to his sighs replied; + Along the coast their mingled clamours ran, + And thus the silver-footed dame began: + + "Why mourns my son? thy late preferr'd request + The god has granted, and the Greeks distress'd: + Why mourns my son? thy anguish let me share, + Reveal the cause, and trust a parent's care." + + He, deeply groaning--"To this cureless grief, + Not even the Thunderer's favour brings relief. + Patroclus--Ah!--say, goddess, can I boast + A pleasure now? revenge itself is lost; + Patroclus, loved of all my martial train, + Beyond mankind, beyond myself is slain! + Lost are those arms the gods themselves bestow'd + On Peleus; Hector bears the glorious load. + Cursed be that day, when all the powers above + Thy charms submitted to a mortal love: + O hadst thou still, a sister of the main, + Pursued the pleasures of the watery reign: + And happier Peleus, less ambitious, led + A mortal beauty to his equal bed! + Ere the sad fruit of thy unhappy womb + Had caused such sorrows past, and woes to come. + For soon, alas! that wretched offspring slain, + New woes, new sorrows, shall create again. + 'Tis not in fate the alternate now to give; + Patroclus dead, Achilles hates to live. + Let me revenge it on proud Hector's heart, + Let his last spirit smoke upon my dart; + On these conditions will I breathe: till then, + I blush to walk among the race of men." + + A flood of tears, at this, the goddess shed: + "Ah then, I see thee dying, see thee dead! + When Hector falls, thou diest."--"Let Hector die, + And let me fall! (Achilles made reply) + Far lies Patroclus from his native plain! + He fell, and falling, wish'd my aid in vain. + Ah then, since from this miserable day + I cast all hope of my return away; + Since, unrevenged, a hundred ghosts demand + The fate of Hector from Achilles' hand; + Since here, for brutal courage far renown'd, + I live an idle burden to the ground, + (Others in council famed for nobler skill, + More useful to preserve, than I to kill,) + Let me--But oh! ye gracious powers above! + Wrath and revenge from men and gods remove: + Far, far too dear to every mortal breast, + Sweet to the soul, as honey to the taste: + Gathering like vapours of a noxious kind + From fiery blood, and darkening all the mind. + Me Agamemnon urged to deadly hate; + 'Tis past--I quell it; I resign to fate. + Yes--I will meet the murderer of my friend; + Or (if the gods ordain it) meet my end. + The stroke of fate the strongest cannot shun: + The great Alcides, Jove's unequall'd son, + To Juno's hate, at length resign'd his breath, + And sunk the victim of all-conquering death. + So shall Achilles fall! stretch'd pale and dead, + No more the Grecian hope, or Trojan dread! + Let me, this instant, rush into the fields, + And reap what glory life's short harvest yields. + Shall I not force some widow'd dame to tear + With frantic hands her long dishevell'd hair? + Shall I not force her breast to heave with sighs, + And the soft tears to trickle from her eyes? + Yes, I shall give the fair those mournful charms-- + In vain you hold me--Hence! my arms! my arms!-- + Soon shall the sanguine torrent spread so wide, + That all shall know Achilles swells the tide." + + "My son (coerulean Thetis made reply, + To fate submitting with a secret sigh,) + The host to succour, and thy friends to save, + Is worthy thee; the duty of the brave. + But canst thou, naked, issue to the plains? + Thy radiant arms the Trojan foe detains. + Insulting Hector bears the spoils on high, + But vainly glories, for his fate is nigh. + Yet, yet awhile thy generous ardour stay; + Assured, I meet thee at the dawn of day, + Charged with refulgent arms (a glorious load), + Vulcanian arms, the labour of a god." + + Then turning to the daughters of the main, + The goddess thus dismiss'd her azure train: + + "Ye sister Nereids! to your deeps descend; + Haste, and our father's sacred seat attend; + I go to find the architect divine, + Where vast Olympus' starry summits shine: + So tell our hoary sire"--This charge she gave: + The sea-green sisters plunge beneath the wave: + Thetis once more ascends the bless'd abodes, + And treads the brazen threshold of the gods. + + [Illustration: THETIS ORDERING THE NEREIDS TO DESCEND INTO THE SEA.] + + THETIS ORDERING THE NEREIDS TO DESCEND INTO THE SEA. + + + And now the Greeks from furious Hector's force, + Urge to broad Hellespont their headlong course; + Nor yet their chiefs Patroclus' body bore + Safe through the tempest to the tented shore. + The horse, the foot, with equal fury join'd, + Pour'd on the rear, and thunder'd close behind: + And like a flame through fields of ripen'd corn, + The rage of Hector o'er the ranks was borne. + Thrice the slain hero by the foot he drew; + Thrice to the skies the Trojan clamours flew: + As oft the Ajaces his assault sustain; + But check'd, he turns; repuls'd, attacks again. + With fiercer shouts his lingering troops he fires, + Nor yields a step, nor from his post retires: + So watchful shepherds strive to force, in vain, + The hungry lion from a carcase slain. + Even yet Patroclus had he borne away, + And all the glories of the extended day, + Had not high Juno from the realms of air, + Secret, despatch'd her trusty messenger. + The various goddess of the showery bow, + Shot in a whirlwind to the shore below; + To great Achilles at his ships she came, + And thus began the many-colour'd dame: + + "Rise, son of Peleus! rise, divinely brave! + Assist the combat, and Patroclus save: + For him the slaughter to the fleet they spread, + And fall by mutual wounds around the dead. + To drag him back to Troy the foe contends: + Nor with his death the rage of Hector ends: + A prey to dogs he dooms the corse to lie, + And marks the place to fix his head on high. + Rise, and prevent (if yet you think of fame) + Thy friend's disgrace, thy own eternal shame!" + + "Who sends thee, goddess, from the ethereal skies?" + Achilles thus. And Iris thus replies: + + "I come, Pelides! from the queen of Jove, + The immortal empress of the realms above; + Unknown to him who sits remote on high, + Unknown to all the synod of the sky." + "Thou comest in vain (he cries, with fury warm'd); + Arms I have none, and can I fight unarm'd? + Unwilling as I am, of force I stay, + Till Thetis bring me at the dawn of day + Vulcanian arms: what other can I wield, + Except the mighty Telamonian shield? + That, in my friend's defence, has Ajax spread, + While his strong lance around him heaps the dead: + The gallant chief defends Menoetius' son, + And does what his Achilles should have done." + + "Thy want of arms (said Iris) well we know; + But though unarm'd, yet clad in terrors, go! + Let but Achilles o'er yon trench appear, + Proud Troy shall tremble, and consent to fear; + Greece from one glance of that tremendous eye + Shall take new courage, and disdain to fly." + + She spoke, and pass'd in air. The hero rose: + Her aegis Pallas o'er his shoulder throws; + Around his brows a golden cloud she spread; + A stream of glory flamed above his head. + As when from some beleaguer'd town arise + The smokes, high curling to the shaded skies; + (Seen from some island, o'er the main afar, + When men distress'd hang out the sign of war;) + Soon as the sun in ocean hides his rays, + Thick on the hills the flaming beacons blaze; + With long-projected beams the seas are bright, + And heaven's high arch reflects the ruddy light: + So from Achilles' head the splendours rise, + Reflecting blaze on blaze against the skies. + Forth march'd the chief, and distant from the crowd, + High on the rampart raised his voice aloud; + With her own shout Minerva swells the sound; + Troy starts astonish'd, and the shores rebound. + As the loud trumpet's brazen mouth from far + With shrilling clangour sounds the alarm of war, + Struck from the walls, the echoes float on high, + And the round bulwarks and thick towers reply; + So high his brazen voice the hero rear'd: + Hosts dropp'd their arms, and trembled as they heard: + And back the chariots roll, and coursers bound, + And steeds and men lie mingled on the ground. + Aghast they see the living lightnings play, + And turn their eyeballs from the flashing ray. + Thrice from the trench his dreadful voice he raised, + And thrice they fled, confounded and amazed. + Twelve in the tumult wedged, untimely rush'd + On their own spears, by their own chariots crush'd: + While, shielded from the darts, the Greeks obtain + The long-contended carcase of the slain. + + A lofty bier the breathless warrior bears: + Around, his sad companions melt in tears. + But chief Achilles, bending down his head, + Pours unavailing sorrows o'er the dead, + Whom late triumphant, with his steeds and car, + He sent refulgent to the field of war; + (Unhappy change!) now senseless, pale, he found, + Stretch'd forth, and gash'd with many a gaping wound. + + Meantime, unwearied with his heavenly way, + In ocean's waves the unwilling light of day + Quench'd his red orb, at Juno's high command, + And from their labours eased the Achaian band. + The frighted Trojans (panting from the war, + Their steeds unharness'd from the weary car) + A sudden council call'd: each chief appear'd + In haste, and standing; for to sit they fear'd. + 'Twas now no season for prolong'd debate; + They saw Achilles, and in him their fate. + Silent they stood: Polydamas at last, + Skill'd to discern the future by the past, + The son of Panthus, thus express'd his fears + (The friend of Hector, and of equal years; + The self-same night to both a being gave, + One wise in council, one in action brave): + + [Illustration: JUNO COMMANDING THE SUN TO SET.] + + JUNO COMMANDING THE SUN TO SET. + + + "In free debate, my friends, your sentence speak; + For me, I move, before the morning break, + To raise our camp: too dangerous here our post, + Far from Troy walls, and on a naked coast. + I deem'd not Greece so dreadful, while engaged + In mutual feuds her king and hero raged; + Then, while we hoped our armies might prevail + We boldly camp'd beside a thousand sail. + I dread Pelides now: his rage of mind + Not long continues to the shores confined, + Nor to the fields, where long in equal fray + Contending nations won and lost the day; + For Troy, for Troy, shall henceforth be the strife, + And the hard contest not for fame, but life. + Haste then to Ilion, while the favouring night + Detains these terrors, keeps that arm from fight. + If but the morrow's sun behold us here, + That arm, those terrors, we shall feel, not fear; + And hearts that now disdain, shall leap with joy, + If heaven permit them then to enter Troy. + Let not my fatal prophecy be true, + Nor what I tremble but to think, ensue. + Whatever be our fate, yet let us try + What force of thought and reason can supply; + Let us on counsel for our guard depend; + The town her gates and bulwarks shall defend. + When morning dawns, our well-appointed powers, + Array'd in arms, shall line the lofty towers. + Let the fierce hero, then, when fury calls, + Vent his mad vengeance on our rocky walls, + Or fetch a thousand circles round the plain, + Till his spent coursers seek the fleet again: + So may his rage be tired, and labour'd down! + And dogs shall tear him ere he sack the town." + + "Return! (said Hector, fired with stern disdain) + What! coop whole armies in our walls again? + Was't not enough, ye valiant warriors, say, + Nine years imprison'd in those towers ye lay? + Wide o'er the world was Ilion famed of old + For brass exhaustless, and for mines of gold: + But while inglorious in her walls we stay'd, + Sunk were her treasures, and her stores decay'd; + The Phrygians now her scatter'd spoils enjoy, + And proud Maeonia wastes the fruits of Troy. + Great Jove at length my arms to conquest calls, + And shuts the Grecians in their wooden walls, + Darest thou dispirit whom the gods incite? + Flies any Trojan? I shall stop his flight. + To better counsel then attention lend; + Take due refreshment, and the watch attend. + If there be one whose riches cost him care, + Forth let him bring them for the troops to share; + 'Tis better generously bestow'd on those, + Than left the plunder of our country's foes. + Soon as the morn the purple orient warms, + Fierce on yon navy will we pour our arms. + If great Achilles rise in all his might, + His be the danger: I shall stand the fight. + Honour, ye gods! or let me gain or give; + And live he glorious, whosoe'er shall live! + Mars is our common lord, alike to all; + And oft the victor triumphs, but to fall." + + The shouting host in loud applauses join'd; + So Pallas robb'd the many of their mind; + To their own sense condemn'd, and left to choose + The worst advice, the better to refuse. + + While the long night extends her sable reign, + Around Patroclus mourn'd the Grecian train. + Stern in superior grief Pelides stood; + Those slaughtering arms, so used to bathe in blood, + Now clasp his clay-cold limbs: then gushing start + The tears, and sighs burst from his swelling heart. + The lion thus, with dreadful anguish stung, + Roars through the desert, and demands his young; + When the grim savage, to his rifled den + Too late returning, snuffs the track of men, + And o'er the vales and o'er the forest bounds; + His clamorous grief the bellowing wood resounds. + So grieves Achilles; and, impetuous, vents + To all his Myrmidons his loud laments. + + "In what vain promise, gods! did I engage, + When to console Menoetius' feeble age, + I vowed his much-loved offspring to restore, + Charged with rich spoils, to fair Opuntia's shore?(252) + But mighty Jove cuts short, with just disdain, + The long, long views of poor designing man! + One fate the warrior and the friend shall strike, + And Troy's black sands must drink our blood alike: + Me too a wretched mother shall deplore, + An aged father never see me more! + Yet, my Patroclus! yet a space I stay, + Then swift pursue thee on the darksome way. + Ere thy dear relics in the grave are laid, + Shall Hector's head be offer'd to thy shade; + That, with his arms, shall hang before thy shrine; + And twelve, the noblest of the Trojan line, + Sacred to vengeance, by this hand expire; + Their lives effused around thy flaming pyre. + Thus let me lie till then! thus, closely press'd, + Bathe thy cold face, and sob upon thy breast! + While Trojan captives here thy mourners stay, + Weep all the night and murmur all the day: + Spoils of my arms, and thine; when, wasting wide, + Our swords kept time, and conquer'd side by side." + + He spoke, and bade the sad attendants round + Cleanse the pale corse, and wash each honour'd wound. + A massy caldron of stupendous frame + They brought, and placed it o'er the rising flame: + Then heap'd the lighted wood; the flame divides + Beneath the vase, and climbs around the sides: + In its wide womb they pour the rushing stream; + The boiling water bubbles to the brim. + The body then they bathe with pious toil, + Embalm the wounds, anoint the limbs with oil, + High on a bed of state extended laid, + And decent cover'd with a linen shade; + Last o'er the dead the milk-white veil they threw; + That done, their sorrows and their sighs renew. + + Meanwhile to Juno, in the realms above, + (His wife and sister,) spoke almighty Jove. + "At last thy will prevails: great Peleus' son + Rises in arms: such grace thy Greeks have won. + Say (for I know not), is their race divine, + And thou the mother of that martial line?" + + "What words are these? (the imperial dame replies, + While anger flash'd from her majestic eyes) + Succour like this a mortal arm might lend, + And such success mere human wit attend: + And shall not I, the second power above, + Heaven's queen, and consort of the thundering Jove, + Say, shall not I one nation's fate command, + Not wreak my vengeance on one guilty land?" + + [Illustration: TRIPOD.] + + TRIPOD. + + + So they. Meanwhile the silver-footed dame + Reach'd the Vulcanian dome, eternal frame! + High-eminent amid the works divine, + Where heaven's far-beaming brazen mansions shine. + There the lame architect the goddess found, + Obscure in smoke, his forges flaming round, + While bathed in sweat from fire to fire he flew; + And puffing loud, the roaring billows blew. + That day no common task his labour claim'd: + Full twenty tripods for his hall he framed, + That placed on living wheels of massy gold, + (Wondrous to tell,) instinct with spirit roll'd + From place to place, around the bless'd abodes + Self-moved, obedient to the beck of gods: + For their fair handles now, o'erwrought with flowers, + In moulds prepared, the glowing ore he pours. + Just as responsive to his thought the frame + Stood prompt to move, the azure goddess came: + Charis, his spouse, a grace divinely fair, + (With purple fillets round her braided hair,) + Observed her entering; her soft hand she press'd, + And, smiling, thus the watery queen address'd: + + "What, goddess! this unusual favour draws? + All hail, and welcome! whatsoe'er the cause; + Till now a stranger, in a happy hour + Approach, and taste the dainties of the bower." + + [Illustration: THETIS AND EURYNOME RECEIVING THE INFANT VULCAN.] + + THETIS AND EURYNOME RECEIVING THE INFANT VULCAN. + + + High on a throne, with stars of silver graced, + And various artifice, the queen she placed; + A footstool at her feet: then calling, said, + "Vulcan, draw near, 'tis Thetis asks your aid." + "Thetis (replied the god) our powers may claim, + An ever-dear, an ever-honour'd name! + When my proud mother hurl'd me from the sky, + (My awkward form, it seems, displeased her eye,) + She, and Eurynome, my griefs redress'd, + And soft received me on their silver breast. + Even then these arts employ'd my infant thought: + Chains, bracelets, pendants, all their toys, I wrought. + Nine years kept secret in the dark abode, + Secure I lay, conceal'd from man and god: + Deep in a cavern'd rock my days were led; + The rushing ocean murmur'd o'er my head. + Now, since her presence glads our mansion, say, + For such desert what service can I pay? + Vouchsafe, O Thetis! at our board to share + The genial rites, and hospitable fare; + While I the labours of the forge forego, + And bid the roaring bellows cease to blow." + + Then from his anvil the lame artist rose; + Wide with distorted legs oblique he goes, + And stills the bellows, and (in order laid) + Locks in their chests his instruments of trade. + Then with a sponge the sooty workman dress'd + His brawny arms embrown'd, and hairy breast. + With his huge sceptre graced, and red attire, + Came halting forth the sovereign of the fire: + The monarch's steps two female forms uphold, + That moved and breathed in animated gold; + To whom was voice, and sense, and science given + Of works divine (such wonders are in heaven!) + On these supported, with unequal gait, + He reach'd the throne where pensive Thetis sate; + There placed beside her on the shining frame, + He thus address'd the silver-footed dame: + + "Thee, welcome, goddess! what occasion calls + (So long a stranger) to these honour'd walls? + 'Tis thine, fair Thetis, the command to lay, + And Vulcan's joy and duty to obey." + + [Illustration: VULCAN AND CHARIS RECEIVING THETIS.] + + VULCAN AND CHARIS RECEIVING THETIS. + + + To whom the mournful mother thus replies: + (The crystal drops stood trembling in her eyes:) + "O Vulcan! say, was ever breast divine + So pierced with sorrows, so o'erwhelm'd as mine? + Of all the goddesses, did Jove prepare + For Thetis only such a weight of care? + I, only I, of all the watery race + By force subjected to a man's embrace, + Who, sinking now with age and sorrow, pays + The mighty fine imposed on length of days. + Sprung from my bed, a godlike hero came, + The bravest sure that ever bore the name; + Like some fair plant beneath my careful hand + He grew, he flourish'd, and he graced the land: + To Troy I sent him! but his native shore + Never, ah never, shall receive him more; + (Even while he lives, he wastes with secret woe;) + Nor I, a goddess, can retard the blow! + Robb'd of the prize the Grecian suffrage gave, + The king of nations forced his royal slave: + For this he grieved; and, till the Greeks oppress'd + Required his arm, he sorrow'd unredress'd. + Large gifts they promise, and their elders send; + In vain--he arms not, but permits his friend + His arms, his steeds, his forces to employ: + He marches, combats, almost conquers Troy: + Then slain by Phoebus (Hector had the name) + At once resigns his armour, life, and fame. + But thou, in pity, by my prayer be won: + Grace with immortal arms this short-lived son, + And to the field in martial pomp restore, + To shine with glory, till he shines no more!" + + To her the artist-god: "Thy griefs resign, + Secure, what Vulcan can, is ever thine. + O could I hide him from the Fates, as well, + Or with these hands the cruel stroke repel, + As I shall forge most envied arms, the gaze + Of wondering ages, and the world's amaze!" + + Thus having said, the father of the fires + To the black labours of his forge retires. + Soon as he bade them blow, the bellows turn'd + Their iron mouths; and where the furnace burn'd, + Resounding breathed: at once the blast expires, + And twenty forges catch at once the fires; + Just as the god directs, now loud, now low, + They raise a tempest, or they gently blow; + In hissing flames huge silver bars are roll'd, + And stubborn brass, and tin, and solid gold; + Before, deep fix'd, the eternal anvils stand; + The ponderous hammer loads his better hand, + His left with tongs turns the vex'd metal round, + And thick, strong strokes, the doubling vaults rebound. + + Then first he form'd the immense and solid shield; + Rich various artifice emblazed the field; + Its utmost verge a threefold circle bound;(253) + A silver chain suspends the massy round; + Five ample plates the broad expanse compose, + And godlike labours on the surface rose. + There shone the image of the master-mind: + There earth, there heaven, there ocean he design'd; + The unwearied sun, the moon completely round; + The starry lights that heaven's high convex crown'd; + The Pleiads, Hyads, with the northern team; + And great Orion's more refulgent beam; + To which, around the axle of the sky, + The Bear, revolving, points his golden eye, + Still shines exalted on the ethereal plain, + Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main. + + Two cities radiant on the shield appear, + The image one of peace, and one of war. + Here sacred pomp and genial feast delight, + And solemn dance, and hymeneal rite; + Along the street the new-made brides are led, + With torches flaming, to the nuptial bed: + The youthful dancers in a circle bound + To the soft flute, and cithern's silver sound: + Through the fair streets the matrons in a row + Stand in their porches, and enjoy the show. + + There in the forum swarm a numerous train; + The subject of debate, a townsman slain: + One pleads the fine discharged, which one denied, + And bade the public and the laws decide: + The witness is produced on either hand: + For this, or that, the partial people stand: + The appointed heralds still the noisy bands, + And form a ring, with sceptres in their hands: + On seats of stone, within the sacred place,(254) + The reverend elders nodded o'er the case; + Alternate, each the attesting sceptre took, + And rising solemn, each his sentence spoke + Two golden talents lay amidst, in sight, + The prize of him who best adjudged the right. + + Another part (a prospect differing far)(255) + Glow'd with refulgent arms, and horrid war. + Two mighty hosts a leaguer'd town embrace, + And one would pillage, one would burn the place. + Meantime the townsmen, arm'd with silent care, + A secret ambush on the foe prepare: + Their wives, their children, and the watchful band + Of trembling parents, on the turrets stand. + They march; by Pallas and by Mars made bold: + Gold were the gods, their radiant garments gold, + And gold their armour: these the squadron led, + August, divine, superior by the head! + A place for ambush fit they found, and stood, + Cover'd with shields, beside a silver flood. + Two spies at distance lurk, and watchful seem + If sheep or oxen seek the winding stream. + Soon the white flocks proceeded o'er the plains, + And steers slow-moving, and two shepherd swains; + Behind them piping on their reeds they go, + Nor fear an ambush, nor suspect a foe. + In arms the glittering squadron rising round + Rush sudden; hills of slaughter heap the ground; + Whole flocks and herds lie bleeding on the plains, + And, all amidst them, dead, the shepherd swains! + The bellowing oxen the besiegers hear; + They rise, take horse, approach, and meet the war, + They fight, they fall, beside the silver flood; + The waving silver seem'd to blush with blood. + There Tumult, there Contention stood confess'd; + One rear'd a dagger at a captive's breast; + One held a living foe, that freshly bled + With new-made wounds; another dragg'd a dead; + Now here, now there, the carcases they tore: + Fate stalk'd amidst them, grim with human gore. + And the whole war came out, and met the eye; + And each bold figure seem'd to live or die. + + A field deep furrow'd next the god design'd,(256) + The third time labour'd by the sweating hind; + The shining shares full many ploughmen guide, + And turn their crooked yokes on every side. + Still as at either end they wheel around, + The master meets them with his goblet crown'd; + The hearty draught rewards, renews their toil, + Then back the turning ploughshares cleave the soil: + Behind, the rising earth in ridges roll'd; + And sable look'd, though form'd of molten gold. + + Another field rose high with waving grain; + With bended sickles stand the reaper train: + Here stretched in ranks the levell'd swarths are found, + Sheaves heap'd on sheaves here thicken up the ground. + With sweeping stroke the mowers strow the lands; + The gatherers follow, and collect in bands; + And last the children, in whose arms are borne + (Too short to gripe them) the brown sheaves of corn. + The rustic monarch of the field descries, + With silent glee, the heaps around him rise. + A ready banquet on the turf is laid, + Beneath an ample oak's expanded shade. + The victim ox the sturdy youth prepare; + The reaper's due repast, the woman's care. + + Next, ripe in yellow gold, a vineyard shines, + Bent with the ponderous harvest of its vines; + A deeper dye the dangling clusters show, + And curl'd on silver props, in order glow: + A darker metal mix'd intrench'd the place; + And pales of glittering tin the inclosure grace. + To this, one pathway gently winding leads, + Where march a train with baskets on their heads, + (Fair maids and blooming youths,) that smiling bear + The purple product of the autumnal year. + To these a youth awakes the warbling strings, + Whose tender lay the fate of Linus sings; + In measured dance behind him move the train, + Tune soft the voice, and answer to the strain. + + Here herds of oxen march, erect and bold, + Rear high their horns, and seem to low in gold, + And speed to meadows on whose sounding shores + A rapid torrent through the rushes roars: + Four golden herdsmen as their guardians stand, + And nine sour dogs complete the rustic band. + Two lions rushing from the wood appear'd; + And seized a bull, the master of the herd: + He roar'd: in vain the dogs, the men withstood; + They tore his flesh, and drank his sable blood. + The dogs (oft cheer'd in vain) desert the prey, + Dread the grim terrors, and at distance bay. + + Next this, the eye the art of Vulcan leads + Deep through fair forests, and a length of meads, + And stalls, and folds, and scatter'd cots between; + And fleecy flocks, that whiten all the scene. + + A figured dance succeeds; such once was seen + In lofty Gnossus for the Cretan queen, + Form'd by Daedalean art; a comely band + Of youths and maidens, bounding hand in hand. + The maids in soft simars of linen dress'd; + The youths all graceful in the glossy vest: + Of those the locks with flowery wreath inroll'd; + Of these the sides adorn'd with swords of gold, + That glittering gay, from silver belts depend. + Now all at once they rise, at once descend, + With well-taught feet: now shape in oblique ways, + Confusedly regular, the moving maze: + Now forth at once, too swift for sight, they spring, + And undistinguish'd blend the flying ring: + So whirls a wheel, in giddy circle toss'd, + And, rapid as it runs, the single spokes are lost. + The gazing multitudes admire around: + Two active tumblers in the centre bound; + Now high, now low, their pliant limbs they bend: + And general songs the sprightly revel end. + + Thus the broad shield complete the artist crown'd + With his last hand, and pour'd the ocean round: + In living silver seem'd the waves to roll, + And beat the buckler's verge, and bound the whole. + + This done, whate'er a warrior's use requires + He forged; the cuirass that outshone the fires, + The greaves of ductile tin, the helm impress'd + With various sculpture, and the golden crest. + At Thetis' feet the finished labour lay: + She, as a falcon cuts the aerial way, + Swift from Olympus' snowy summit flies, + And bears the blazing present through the skies.(257) + + + + + +BOOK XIX. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE RECONCILIATION OF ACHILLES AND AGAMEMNON. + +Thetis brings to her son the armour made by Vulcan. She preserves the body +of his friend from corruption, and commands him to assemble the army, to +declare his resentment at an end. Agamemnon and Achilles are solemnly +reconciled: the speeches, presents, and ceremonies on that occasion. +Achilles is with great difficulty persuaded to refrain from the battle +till the troops have refreshed themselves by the advice of Ulysses. The +presents are conveyed to the tent of Achilles, where Briseis laments over +the body of Patroclus. The hero obstinately refuses all repast, and gives +himself up to lamentations for his friend. Minerva descends to strengthen +him, by the order of Jupiter. He arms for the fight: his appearance +described. He addresses himself to his horses, and reproaches them with +the death of Patroclus. One of them is miraculously endued with voice, and +inspired to prophesy his fate: but the hero, not astonished by that +prodigy, rushes with fury to the combat. + +The thirteenth day. The scene is on the sea-shore. + + Soon as Aurora heaved her Orient head + Above the waves, that blush'd with early red, + (With new-born day to gladden mortal sight, + And gild the courts of heaven with sacred light,) + The immortal arms the goddess-mother bears + Swift to her son: her son she finds in tears + Stretch'd o'er Patroclus' corse; while all the rest + Their sovereign's sorrows in their own express'd. + A ray divine her heavenly presence shed, + And thus, his hand soft touching, Thetis said: + + "Suppress, my son, this rage of grief, and know + It was not man, but heaven, that gave the blow; + Behold what arms by Vulcan are bestow'd, + Arms worthy thee, or fit to grace a god." + + Then drops the radiant burden on the ground; + Clang the strong arms, and ring the shores around; + Back shrink the Myrmidons with dread surprise, + And from the broad effulgence turn their eyes. + Unmoved the hero kindles at the show, + And feels with rage divine his bosom glow; + From his fierce eyeballs living flames expire, + And flash incessant like a stream of fire: + He turns the radiant gift: and feeds his mind + On all the immortal artist had design'd. + + "Goddess! (he cried,) these glorious arms, that shine + With matchless art, confess the hand divine. + Now to the bloody battle let me bend: + But ah! the relics of my slaughter'd friend! + In those wide wounds through which his spirit fled, + Shall flies, and worms obscene, pollute the dead?" + + "That unavailing care be laid aside, + (The azure goddess to her son replied,) + Whole years untouch'd, uninjured shall remain, + Fresh as in life, the carcase of the slain. + But go, Achilles, as affairs require, + Before the Grecian peers renounce thine ire: + Then uncontroll'd in boundless war engage, + And heaven with strength supply the mighty rage!" + + [Illustration: THETIS BRINGING THE ARMOUR TO ACHILLES.] + + THETIS BRINGING THE ARMOUR TO ACHILLES. + + + Then in the nostrils of the slain she pour'd + Nectareous drops, and rich ambrosia shower'd + O'er all the corse. The flies forbid their prey, + Untouch'd it rests, and sacred from decay. + Achilles to the strand obedient went: + The shores resounded with the voice he sent. + The heroes heard, and all the naval train + That tend the ships, or guide them o'er the main, + Alarm'd, transported, at the well-known sound, + Frequent and full, the great assembly crown'd; + Studious to see the terror of the plain, + Long lost to battle, shine in arms again. + Tydides and Ulysses first appear, + Lame with their wounds, and leaning on the spear; + These on the sacred seats of council placed, + The king of men, Atrides, came the last: + He too sore wounded by Agenor's son. + Achilles (rising in the midst) begun: + + "O monarch! better far had been the fate + Of thee, of me, of all the Grecian state, + If (ere the day when by mad passion sway'd, + Rash we contended for the black-eyed maid) + Preventing Dian had despatch'd her dart, + And shot the shining mischief to the heart! + Then many a hero had not press'd the shore, + Nor Troy's glad fields been fatten'd with our gore. + Long, long shall Greece the woes we caused bewail, + And sad posterity repeat the tale. + But this, no more the subject of debate, + Is past, forgotten, and resign'd to fate. + Why should, alas, a mortal man, as I, + Burn with a fury that can never die? + Here then my anger ends: let war succeed, + And even as Greece has bled, let Ilion bleed. + Now call the hosts, and try if in our sight + Troy yet shall dare to camp a second night! + I deem, their mightiest, when this arm he knows, + Shall 'scape with transport, and with joy repose." + + He said: his finish'd wrath with loud acclaim + The Greeks accept, and shout Pelides' name. + When thus, not rising from his lofty throne, + In state unmoved, the king of men begun: + + "Hear me, ye sons of Greece! with silence hear! + And grant your monarch an impartial ear: + Awhile your loud, untimely joy suspend, + And let your rash, injurious clamours end: + Unruly murmurs, or ill-timed applause, + Wrong the best speaker, and the justest cause. + Nor charge on me, ye Greeks, the dire debate: + Know, angry Jove, and all-compelling Fate, + With fell Erinnys, urged my wrath that day + When from Achilles' arms I forced the prey. + What then could I against the will of heaven? + Not by myself, but vengeful Ate driven; + She, Jove's dread daughter, fated to infest + The race of mortals, enter'd in my breast. + Not on the ground that haughty fury treads, + But prints her lofty footsteps on the heads + Of mighty men; inflicting as she goes + Long-festering wounds, inextricable woes! + Of old, she stalk'd amid the bright abodes; + And Jove himself, the sire of men and gods, + The world's great ruler, felt her venom'd dart; + Deceived by Juno's wiles, and female art: + For when Alcmena's nine long months were run, + And Jove expected his immortal son, + To gods and goddesses the unruly joy + He show'd, and vaunted of his matchless boy: + 'From us, (he said) this day an infant springs, + Fated to rule, and born a king of kings.' + Saturnia ask'd an oath, to vouch the truth, + And fix dominion on the favour'd youth. + The Thunderer, unsuspicious of the fraud, + Pronounced those solemn words that bind a god. + The joyful goddess, from Olympus' height, + Swift to Achaian Argos bent her flight: + Scarce seven moons gone, lay Sthenelus's wife; + She push'd her lingering infant into life: + Her charms Alcmena's coming labours stay, + And stop the babe, just issuing to the day. + Then bids Saturnius bear his oath in mind; + 'A youth (said she) of Jove's immortal kind + Is this day born: from Sthenelus he springs, + And claims thy promise to be king of kings.' + Grief seized the Thunderer, by his oath engaged; + Stung to the soul, he sorrow'd, and he raged. + From his ambrosial head, where perch'd she sate, + He snatch'd the fury-goddess of debate, + The dread, the irrevocable oath he swore, + The immortal seats should ne'er behold her more; + And whirl'd her headlong down, for ever driven + From bright Olympus and the starry heaven: + Thence on the nether world the fury fell; + Ordain'd with man's contentious race to dwell. + Full oft the god his son's hard toils bemoan'd, + Cursed the dire fury, and in secret groan'd.(258) + Even thus, like Jove himself, was I misled, + While raging Hector heap'd our camps with dead. + What can the errors of my rage atone? + My martial troops, my treasures are thy own: + This instant from the navy shall be sent + Whate'er Ulysses promised at thy tent: + But thou! appeased, propitious to our prayer, + Resume thy arms, and shine again in war." + + " O king of nations! whose superior sway + (Returns Achilles) all our hosts obey! + To keep or send the presents, be thy care; + To us, 'tis equal: all we ask is war. + While yet we talk, or but an instant shun + The fight, our glorious work remains undone. + Let every Greek, who sees my spear confound + The Trojan ranks, and deal destruction round, + With emulation, what I act survey, + And learn from thence the business of the day. + + The son of Peleus thus; and thus replies + The great in councils, Ithacus the wise: + "Though, godlike, thou art by no toils oppress'd, + At least our armies claim repast and rest: + Long and laborious must the combat be, + When by the gods inspired, and led by thee. + Strength is derived from spirits and from blood, + And those augment by generous wine and food: + What boastful son of war, without that stay, + Can last a hero through a single day? + Courage may prompt; but, ebbing out his strength, + Mere unsupported man must yield at length; + Shrunk with dry famine, and with toils declined, + The drooping body will desert the mind: + But built anew with strength-conferring fare, + With limbs and soul untamed, he tires a war. + Dismiss the people, then, and give command. + With strong repast to hearten every band; + But let the presents to Achilles made, + In full assembly of all Greece be laid. + The king of men shall rise in public sight, + And solemn swear (observant of the rite) + That, spotless, as she came, the maid removes, + Pure from his arms, and guiltless of his loves. + That done, a sumptuous banquet shall be made, + And the full price of injured honour paid. + Stretch not henceforth, O prince.! thy sovereign might + Beyond the bounds of reason and of right; + 'Tis the chief praise that e'er to kings belong'd, + To right with justice whom with power they wrong'd." + + To him the monarch: "Just is thy decree, + Thy words give joy, and wisdom breathes in thee. + Each due atonement gladly I prepare; + And heaven regard me as I justly swear! + Here then awhile let Greece assembled stay, + Nor great Achilles grudge this short delay. + Till from the fleet our presents be convey'd, + And Jove attesting, the firm compact made. + A train of noble youths the charge shall bear; + These to select, Ulysses, be thy care: + In order rank'd let all our gifts appear, + And the fair train of captives close the rear: + Talthybius shall the victim boar convey, + Sacred to Jove, and yon bright orb of day." + + "For this (the stern AEacides replies) + Some less important season may suffice, + When the stern fury of the war is o'er, + And wrath, extinguish'd, burns my breast no more. + By Hector slain, their faces to the sky, + All grim with gaping wounds, our heroes lie: + Those call to war! and might my voice incite, + Now, now, this instant, shall commence the fight: + Then, when the day's complete, let generous bowls, + And copious banquets, glad your weary souls. + Let not my palate know the taste of food, + Till my insatiate rage be cloy'd with blood: + Pale lies my friend, with wounds disfigured o'er, + And his cold feet are pointed to the door. + Revenge is all my soul! no meaner care, + Interest, or thought, has room to harbour there; + Destruction be my feast, and mortal wounds, + And scenes of blood, and agonizing sounds." + + "O first of Greeks, (Ulysses thus rejoin'd,) + The best and bravest of the warrior kind! + Thy praise it is in dreadful camps to shine, + But old experience and calm wisdom mine. + Then hear my counsel, and to reason yield, + The bravest soon are satiate of the field; + Though vast the heaps that strow the crimson plain, + The bloody harvest brings but little gain: + The scale of conquest ever wavering lies, + Great Jove but turns it, and the victor dies! + The great, the bold, by thousands daily fall, + And endless were the grief, to weep for all. + Eternal sorrows what avails to shed? + Greece honours not with solemn fasts the dead: + Enough, when death demands the brave, to pay + The tribute of a melancholy day. + One chief with patience to the grave resign'd, + Our care devolves on others left behind. + Let generous food supplies of strength produce, + Let rising spirits flow from sprightly juice, + Let their warm heads with scenes of battle glow, + And pour new furies on the feebler foe. + Yet a short interval, and none shall dare + Expect a second summons to the war; + Who waits for that, the dire effects shall find, + If trembling in the ships he lags behind. + Embodied, to the battle let us bend, + And all at once on haughty Troy descend." + + And now the delegates Ulysses sent, + To bear the presents from the royal tent: + The sons of Nestor, Phyleus' valiant heir, + Thias and Merion, thunderbolts of war, + With Lycomedes of Creiontian strain, + And Melanippus, form'd the chosen train. + Swift as the word was given, the youths obey'd: + Twice ten bright vases in the midst they laid; + A row of six fair tripods then succeeds; + And twice the number of high-bounding steeds: + Seven captives next a lovely line compose; + The eighth Briseis, like the blooming rose, + Closed the bright band: great Ithacus, before, + First of the train, the golden talents bore: + The rest in public view the chiefs dispose, + A splendid scene! then Agamemnon rose: + The boar Talthybius held: the Grecian lord + Drew the broad cutlass sheath'd beside his sword: + The stubborn bristles from the victim's brow + He crops, and offering meditates his vow. + His hands uplifted to the attesting skies, + On heaven's broad marble roof were fixed his eyes. + The solemn words a deep attention draw, + And Greece around sat thrill'd with sacred awe. + + "Witness thou first! thou greatest power above, + All-good, all-wise, and all-surveying Jove! + And mother-earth, and heaven's revolving light, + And ye, fell furies of the realms of night, + Who rule the dead, and horrid woes prepare + For perjured kings, and all who falsely swear! + The black-eyed maid inviolate removes, + Pure and unconscious of my manly loves. + If this be false, heaven all its vengeance shed, + And levell'd thunder strike my guilty head!" + + With that, his weapon deep inflicts the wound; + The bleeding savage tumbles to the ground; + The sacred herald rolls the victim slain + (A feast for fish) into the foaming main. + + Then thus Achilles: "Hear, ye Greeks! and know + Whate'er we feel, 'tis Jove inflicts the woe; + Not else Atrides could our rage inflame, + Nor from my arms, unwilling, force the dame. + 'Twas Jove's high will alone, o'erruling all, + That doom'd our strife, and doom'd the Greeks to fall. + Go then, ye chiefs! indulge the genial rite; + Achilles waits ye, and expects the fight." + + The speedy council at his word adjourn'd: + To their black vessels all the Greeks return'd. + Achilles sought his tent. His train before + March'd onward, bending with the gifts they bore. + Those in the tents the squires industrious spread: + The foaming coursers to the stalls they led; + To their new seats the female captives move + Briseis, radiant as the queen of love, + Slow as she pass'd, beheld with sad survey + Where, gash'd with cruel wounds, Patroclus lay. + Prone on the body fell the heavenly fair, + Beat her sad breast, and tore her golden hair; + All beautiful in grief, her humid eyes + Shining with tears she lifts, and thus she cries: + + "Ah, youth for ever dear, for ever kind, + Once tender friend of my distracted mind! + I left thee fresh in life, in beauty gay; + Now find thee cold, inanimated clay! + What woes my wretched race of life attend! + Sorrows on sorrows, never doom'd to end! + The first loved consort of my virgin bed + Before these eyes in fatal battle bled: + My three brave brothers in one mournful day + All trod the dark, irremeable way: + Thy friendly hand uprear'd me from the plain, + And dried my sorrows for a husband slain; + Achilles' care you promised I should prove, + The first, the dearest partner of his love; + That rites divine should ratify the band, + And make me empress in his native land. + Accept these grateful tears! for thee they flow, + For thee, that ever felt another's woe!" + + Her sister captives echoed groan for groan, + Nor mourn'd Patroclus' fortunes, but their own. + The leaders press'd the chief on every side; + Unmoved he heard them, and with sighs denied. + + "If yet Achilles have a friend, whose care + Is bent to please him, this request forbear; + Till yonder sun descend, ah, let me pay + To grief and anguish one abstemious day." + + He spoke, and from the warriors turn'd his face: + Yet still the brother-kings of Atreus' race, + Nestor, Idomeneus, Ulysses sage, + And Phoenix, strive to calm his grief and rage: + His rage they calm not, nor his grief control; + He groans, he raves, he sorrows from his soul. + + "Thou too, Patroclus! (thus his heart he vents) + Once spread the inviting banquet in our tents: + Thy sweet society, thy winning care, + Once stay'd Achilles, rushing to the war. + But now, alas! to death's cold arms resign'd, + What banquet but revenge can glad my mind? + What greater sorrow could afflict my breast, + What more if hoary Peleus were deceased? + Who now, perhaps, in Phthia dreads to hear + His son's sad fate, and drops a tender tear. + What more, should Neoptolemus the brave, + My only offspring, sink into the grave? + If yet that offspring lives; (I distant far, + Of all neglectful, wage a hateful war.) + I could not this, this cruel stroke attend; + Fate claim'd Achilles, but might spare his friend. + I hoped Patroclus might survive, to rear + My tender orphan with a parent's care, + From Scyros' isle conduct him o'er the main, + And glad his eyes with his paternal reign, + The lofty palace, and the large domain. + For Peleus breathes no more the vital air; + Or drags a wretched life of age and care, + But till the news of my sad fate invades + His hastening soul, and sinks him to the shades." + + Sighing he said: his grief the heroes join'd, + Each stole a tear for what he left behind. + Their mingled grief the sire of heaven survey'd, + And thus with pity to his blue-eyed maid: + + "Is then Achilles now no more thy care, + And dost thou thus desert the great in war? + Lo, where yon sails their canvas wings extend, + All comfortless he sits, and wails his friend: + Ere thirst and want his forces have oppress'd, + Haste and infuse ambrosia in his breast." + + He spoke; and sudden, at the word of Jove, + Shot the descending goddess from above. + So swift through ether the shrill harpy springs, + The wide air floating to her ample wings, + To great Achilles she her flight address'd, + And pour'd divine ambrosia in his breast,(259) + With nectar sweet, (refection of the gods!) + Then, swift ascending, sought the bright abodes. + + Now issued from the ships the warrior-train, + And like a deluge pour'd upon the plain. + As when the piercing blasts of Boreas blow, + And scatter o'er the fields the driving snow; + From dusky clouds the fleecy winter flies, + Whose dazzling lustre whitens all the skies: + So helms succeeding helms, so shields from shields, + Catch the quick beams, and brighten all the fields; + Broad glittering breastplates, spears with pointed rays, + Mix in one stream, reflecting blaze on blaze; + Thick beats the centre as the coursers bound; + With splendour flame the skies, and laugh the fields around, + + Full in the midst, high-towering o'er the rest, + His limbs in arms divine Achilles dress'd; + Arms which the father of the fire bestow'd, + Forged on the eternal anvils of the god. + Grief and revenge his furious heart inspire, + His glowing eyeballs roll with living fire; + He grinds his teeth, and furious with delay + O'erlooks the embattled host, and hopes the bloody day. + + The silver cuishes first his thighs infold; + Then o'er his breast was braced the hollow gold; + The brazen sword a various baldric tied, + That, starr'd with gems, hung glittering at his side; + And, like the moon, the broad refulgent shield + Blazed with long rays, and gleam'd athwart the field. + + So to night-wandering sailors, pale with fears, + Wide o'er the watery waste, a light appears, + Which on the far-seen mountain blazing high, + Streams from some lonely watch-tower to the sky: + With mournful eyes they gaze, and gaze again; + Loud howls the storm, and drives them o'er the main. + + Next, his high head the helmet graced; behind + The sweepy crest hung floating in the wind: + Like the red star, that from his flaming hair + Shakes down diseases, pestilence, and war; + So stream'd the golden honours from his head, + Trembled the sparkling plumes, and the loose glories shed. + The chief beholds himself with wondering eyes; + His arms he poises, and his motions tries; + Buoy'd by some inward force, he seems to swim, + And feels a pinion lifting every limb. + + And now he shakes his great paternal spear, + Ponderous and huge, which not a Greek could rear, + From Pelion's cloudy top an ash entire + Old Chiron fell'd, and shaped it for his sire; + A spear which stern Achilles only wields, + The death of heroes, and the dread of fields. + + Automedon and Alcimus prepare + The immortal coursers, and the radiant car; + (The silver traces sweeping at their side;) + Their fiery mouths resplendent bridles tied; + The ivory-studded reins, return'd behind, + Waved o'er their backs, and to the chariot join'd. + The charioteer then whirl'd the lash around, + And swift ascended at one active bound. + All bright in heavenly arms, above his squire + Achilles mounts, and sets the field on fire; + Not brighter Phoebus in the ethereal way + Flames from his chariot, and restores the day. + High o'er the host, all terrible he stands, + And thunders to his steeds these dread commands: + + "Xanthus and Balius! of Podarges' strain, + (Unless ye boast that heavenly race in vain,) + Be swift, be mindful of the load ye bear, + And learn to make your master more your care: + Through falling squadrons bear my slaughtering sword, + Nor, as ye left Patroclus, leave your lord." + + The generous Xanthus, as the words he said, + Seem'd sensible of woe, and droop'd his head: + Trembling he stood before the golden wain, + And bow'd to dust the honours of his mane. + When, strange to tell! (so Juno will'd) he broke + Eternal silence, and portentous spoke. + "Achilles! yes! this day at least we bear + Thy rage in safety through the files of war: + But come it will, the fatal time must come, + Not ours the fault, but God decrees thy doom. + Not through our crime, or slowness in the course, + Fell thy Patroclus, but by heavenly force; + The bright far-shooting god who gilds the day + (Confess'd we saw him) tore his arms way. + No--could our swiftness o'er the winds prevail, + Or beat the pinions of the western gale, + All were in vain--the Fates thy death demand, + Due to a mortal and immortal hand." + + Then ceased for ever, by the Furies tied, + His fateful voice. The intrepid chief replied + With unabated rage--"So let it be! + Portents and prodigies are lost on me. + I know my fate: to die, to see no more + My much-loved parents, and my native shore-- + Enough--when heaven ordains, I sink in night: + Now perish Troy!" He said, and rush'd to fight. + + [Illustration: HERCULES.] + + HERCULES. + + + + + +BOOK XX. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE BATTLE OF THE GODS, AND THE ACTS OF ACHILLES. + +Jupiter, upon Achilles' return to the battle, calls a council of the gods, +and permits them to assist either party. The terrors of the combat +described, when the deities are engaged. Apollo encourages AEneas to meet +Achilles. After a long conversation, these two heroes encounter; but AEneas +is preserved by the assistance of Neptune. Achilles falls upon the rest of +the Trojans, and is upon the point of killing Hector, but Apollo conveys +him away in a cloud. Achilles pursues the Trojans with a great slaughter. + +The same day continues. The scene is in the field before Troy. + + Thus round Pelides breathing war and blood + Greece, sheathed in arms, beside her vessels stood; + While near impending from a neighbouring height, + Troy's black battalions wait the shock of fight. + Then Jove to Themis gives command, to call + 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. + 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 + His ancient seat beneath the sacred deeps. + On marble thrones, with lucid columns crown'd, + (The work of Vulcan,) sat the powers around. + Even he whose trident sways the watery reign + Heard the loud summons, and forsook the main, + Assumed his throne amid the bright abodes, + And question'd thus the sire of men and gods: + + "What moves the god who heaven and earth commands, + And grasps the thunder in his awful hands, + Thus to convene the whole ethereal state? + Is Greece and Troy the subject in debate? + Already met, the louring hosts appear, + And death stands ardent on the edge of war." + + "'Tis true (the cloud-compelling power replies) + This day we call the council of the skies + In care of human race; even 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, + 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? + Assist them, gods! or Ilion's sacred wall + May fall this day, though fate forbids the fall." + + He said, and fired their heavenly breasts with rage. + On adverse parts the warring gods engage: + Heaven's awful queen; and he whose azure round + Girds the vast globe; the maid in arms renown'd; + Hermes, of profitable arts the sire; + And Vulcan, the black sovereign of the fire: + These to the fleet repair with instant flight; + The vessels tremble as the gods alight. + In aid of Troy, Latona, Phoebus 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, + 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; + 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, + Earth echoes, and the nations rush to arms. + Now through the trembling shores Minerva calls, + And now she thunders from the Grecian walls. + Mars hovering o'er his Troy, his terror shrouds + In gloomy tempests, and a night of clouds: + Now through 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, + And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles. + Beneath, stern Neptune shakes the solid ground; + The forests wave, the mountains nod around; + Through all their summits tremble Ida's woods, + And from their sources boil her hundred floods. + 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,(260) + The infernal monarch rear'd his horrid head, + Leap'd from his throne, lest Neptune's arm should lay + His dark dominions open to the day, + And pour in light on Pluto's drear abodes, + Abhorr'd by men, and dreadful even to gods.(261) + + [Illustration: THE GODS DESCENDING TO BATTLE.] + + THE GODS DESCENDING TO BATTLE. + + + Such war the immortals wage; such horrors rend + The world's vast concave, when the gods contend + First silver-shafted Phoebus 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. + The quiver'd Dian, sister of the day, + (Her golden arrows sounding at her side,) + Saturnia, majesty of heaven, defied. + With fiery Vulcan last in battle stands + The sacred flood that rolls on golden sands; + Xanthus his name with those of heavenly birth, + But called 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 + His eyes around, for Hector only burn'd; + And burst like lightning through the ranks, and vow'd + To glut the god of battles with his blood. + + AEneas was the first who dared to stay; + Apollo wedged him in the warrior's way, + But swell'd his bosom with undaunted might, + Half-forced 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 + 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 + Observed the fury of his flying spear; + From Ida's woods he chased us to the field, + Our force he scattered, 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 + By fierce Achilles and Minerva's might. + Where'er he moved, the goddess shone before, + And bathed his brazen lance in hostile gore. + What mortal man Achilles can sustain? + The immortals guard him through the dreadful plain, + And suffer not his dart to fall in vain. + Were God my aid, this arm should check his power, + Though strong in battle as a brazen tower." + + To whom the son of Jove: "That god implore, + And be what great Achilles was before. + From heavenly Venus thou deriv'st 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, + Nor fear the vaunting of a mortal foe." + + This said, and spirit breathed into his breast, + Through the thick troops the embolden'd hero press'd: + His venturous act the white-arm'd queen survey'd, + And thus, assembling all the powers, she said: + + "Behold an action, gods! that claims your care, + Lo great AEneas rushing to the war! + Against Pelides he directs his course, + Phoebus impels, and Phoebus gives him force. + Restrain his bold career; at least, to attend + Our favour'd hero, let some power descend. + To guard his life, and add to his renown, + We, the great armament of heaven, came down. + Hereafter let him fall, as Fates design, + That spun so short his life's illustrious line:(262) + 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 heaven's refulgent host appear in arms?"(263) + + Thus she; and thus the god whose force can make + 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. + But if the 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, + Yield to our conquering arms the lower world." + + Thus having said, the tyrant of the sea, + Coerulean Neptune, rose, and led the way. + Advanced upon the field there stood a mound + Of earth congested, wall'd, and trench'd around; + 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, + 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 heavenly party sat, + Intent to form the future scheme of fate; + But mix not yet in fight, though Jove on high + Gives the loud signal, and the heavens reply. + + Meanwhile the rushing armies hide the ground; + The trampled centre yields a hollow sound: + Steeds cased in mail, and chiefs in armour bright, + The gleaming champaign glows with brazen light. + Amid both hosts (a dreadful space) appear, + There great Achilles; bold AEneas, here. + With towering strides Aeneas first advanced; + The nodding plumage on his helmet danced: + Spread o'er his breast the fencing shield he bore, + And, so he moved, his javelin 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, + Though 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; + 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, + Resolved on vengeance, or resolved on death. + So fierce Achilles on AEneas flies; + So stands AEneas, and his force defies. + Ere yet the stern encounter join'd, begun + The seed of Thetis thus to Venus' son: + + "Why comes AEneas through the ranks so far? + Seeks he to meet Achilles' arm in war, + 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: + And 'tis 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? + Even 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 AEneas seem'd to fear: + With hearty haste from Ida's mount he fled, + 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; + 'Tis true, the great Aeneas fled too fast. + 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 + 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: + 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, + 'Tis not in words the glorious strife can end. + If yet thou further seek to learn my birth + (A tale resounded through the spacious earth) + Hear how the glorious origin we prove + From ancient Dardanus, the first from Jove: + Dardania's walls he raised; 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.(264) + From Dardanus great Erichthonius springs, + 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, + With voice dissembled to his loves he neigh'd, + And coursed 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, + Nor plied the grass, nor bent the tender grain; + And when along the level seas they flew,(265) + Scarce on the surface curl'd the briny dew. + Such Erichthonius was: from him there came + The sacred Tros, of whom the Trojan name. + Three sons renown'd adorn'd his nuptial bed, + Ilus, Assaracus, and Ganymed: + The matchless Ganymed, divinely fair, + Whom heaven, enamour'd, snatch'd to upper air, + To bear the cup of Jove (ethereal guest, + The grace and glory of the 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, bless'd with Hector, brave and bold; + Clytius and Lampus, ever-honour'd pair; + And Hicetaon, thunderbolt of war. + From great Assaracus sprang Capys, he + Begat Anchises, and Anchises me. + Such is our race: 'tis fortune gives us birth, + 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, + 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 every man has equal strength to rail: + Women alone, when in the streets they jar, + 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 business in the field of fight + Is not to question, but to prove our might. + To all those insults thou hast offer'd here, + Receive this answer: 'tis my flying spear." + + He spoke. With all his force the javelin flung, + Fix'd deep, and loudly in the buckler rung. + Far on his outstretch'd arm, Pelides held + (To meet the thundering lance) his dreadful shield, + That trembled as it stuck; nor void of fear + Saw, ere it fell, the immeasurable spear. + His fears were vain; impenetrable charms + Secured the temper of the ethereal arms. + Through 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: + There stuck the lance. Then rising ere he threw, + The forceful spear of great Achilles flew, + And pierced the Dardan shield's extremest bound, + Where the shrill brass return'd a sharper sound: + Through the thin verge the Pelean weapon glides, + And the slight covering of expanded hides. + AEneas his contracted body bends, + And o'er him high the riven targe extends, + Sees, through its parting plates, the upper air, + And at his back perceives the quivering spear: + 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 AEneas flies: + AEneas rousing as the foe came on, + With force collected, heaves a mighty stone: + A mass enormous! which in modern days + No two of earth's degenerate sons could raise. + But ocean's god, whose earthquakes rock the ground. + Saw the distress, and moved the powers around: + + "Lo! on the brink of fate AEneas stands, + An instant victim to Achilles' hands; + By Phoebus urged; but Phoebus has bestow'd + His aid in vain: the man o'erpowers the god. + And can ye see this righteous chief atone + With guiltless blood for vices not his own? + To all the gods his constant vows were paid; + Sure, though he wars for Troy, he claims our aid. + Fate wills not this; nor thus can Jove resign + The future father of the Dardan line:(266) + 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 the all-seeing mind; + On great AEneas shall devolve the reign, + And sons succeeding sons the lasting line sustain." + + The great earth-shaker thus: to whom replies + The imperial goddess with the radiant eyes: + "Good as he is, to immolate or spare + The Dardan prince, O Neptune! be thy care; + Pallas and I, by all that gods can bind, + Have sworn destruction to the Trojan kind; + Not even 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, + And even her crumbling ruins are no more." + + The king of ocean to the fight descends, + Through all the whistling darts his course he bends, + Swift interposed between the warrior flies, + And casts thick darkness o'er Achilles' eyes.(267) + From great AEneas' shield the spear he drew, + And at his master's feet the weapon threw. + That done, with force divine he snatch'd on high + The Dardan prince, and bore him through the sky, + Smooth-gliding without step, above the heads + Of warring heroes, and of bounding steeds: + Till at the battle's utmost verge they light, + Where the slow Caucans close the rear of fight. + The godhead there (his heavenly form confess'd) + With words like these the panting chief address'd: + + "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) + 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 wondering as he lay, + Then from Achilles chased the mist away: + Sudden, returning with a 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, + 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 arms he scarce will try, + Content for once, with all his gods, to fly. + 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! + 'Tis not in me, though favour'd by the sky, + 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; + Whate'er this heart can prompt, or hand obey; + All, all Achilles, Greeks! is yours to-day. + Through yon wide host this arm shall scatter fear, + And thin the squadrons with my single spear." + + He said: nor less elate with martial joy, + 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. E'en these with words + Insult the brave, who tremble at their swords: + The weakest atheist-wretch all heaven defies, + But shrinks and shudders when the thunder flies. + Nor from yon boaster shall your chief retire, + Not though his heart were steel, his hands were fire; + That fire, that steel, your Hector should withstand, + And brave that vengeful heart, that dreadful hand." + + Thus (breathing rage through 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. + But Phoebus warns him from high heaven 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, + 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; + From great Otrynteus he derived his blood, + His mother was a Nais, 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: + 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, though Gygae boast thy birth; + Those beauteous fields where Hyllus' waves are roll'd, + And plenteous Hermus swells with tides of gold, + Are thine no more."--The insulting hero said, + And left him sleeping in eternal shade. + The rolling wheels of Greece the body tore, + And dash'd their axles with no vulgar gore. + + Demoleon next, Antenor's offspring, laid + Breathless in dust, the price of rashness paid. + The impatient steel with full-descending sway + Forced through his brazen helm its furious way, + Resistless drove the batter'd skull before, + And dash'd and mingled all the brains with gore. + This sees Hippodamas, and seized with fright, + Deserts his chariot for a swifter flight: + The lance arrests him: an ignoble wound + 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 re-bellow round, + And ocean listens to the grateful sound. + Then fell on Polydore his vengeful rage,(268) + 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, + 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 + Forth through 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, + Thus sadly slain the 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 javelin like a waving flame. + 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, is his friend! + No more shall Hector's and Pelides' spear + 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: + Such we could give, defying and defied, + Mean intercourse of obloquy and pride! + I know thy force to mine superior far; + But heaven alone confers success in war: + Mean as I am, the gods may guide my dart, + And give it entrance in a braver heart." + + Then parts the lance: but Pallas' heavenly breath + Far from Achilles wafts the winged death: + The bidden dart again to Hector flies, + And at the feet of its great master lies. + 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, + 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. + 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: + Then Dryops tumbled to the ensanguined plain, + Pierced through the neck: he left him panting there, + And stopp'd Demuchus, great Philetor's heir. + Gigantic chief! deep gash'd the enormous blade, + And for the soul an ample passage made. + Laoganus 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 difference only their sad fates afford + 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, an age so like thy own! + 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 + That drowns his bosom till he pants no more. + + Through Mulius' head then drove the impetuous spear: + The warrior falls, transfix'd from ear to ear. + Thy life, Echeclus! next the sword bereaves, + Deep though the front the ponderous falchion cleaves; + 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, + 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. + Rhigmas, whose race from fruitful Thracia came, + (The son of Pierus, an illustrious name,) + Succeeds to fate: the spear his belly rends; + Prone from his car the thundering chief descends. + The squire, who saw expiring on the ground + His prostrate master, rein'd the steeds around; + His back, scarce turn'd, the Pelian javelin 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; + 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 through the wasted shores; + Around him wide, immense destruction pours + And earth is deluged with the sanguine showers + As with autumnal harvests cover'd o'er, + And thick bestrewn, lies Ceres' sacred floor; + When round and round, with never-wearied pain, + The trampling steers beat out the unnumber'd grain: + 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 through heaps of carnage tore; + 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! + + [Illustration: CENTAUR.] + + CENTAUR. + + + + + +BOOK XXI. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE BATTLE IN THE RIVER SCAMANDER.(269) + +The Trojans fly before Achilles, some towards the town, others to the +river Scamander: he falls upon the latter with great slaughter: takes +twelve captives alive, to sacrifice to the shade of Patroclus; and kills +Lycaon and Asteropeus. Scamander attacks him with all his waves: Neptune +and Pallas assist the hero: Simois joins Scamander: at length Vulcan, by +the instigation of Juno, almost dries up the river. This Combat ended, the +other gods engage each other. Meanwhile Achilles continues the slaughter, +drives the rest into Troy: Agenor only makes a stand, and is conveyed away +in a cloud by Apollo; who (to delude Achilles) takes upon him Agenor's +shape, and while he pursues him in that disguise, gives the Trojans an +opportunity of retiring into their city. + +The same day continues. The scene is on the banks and in the stream of +Scamander. + + And now to Xanthus' gliding stream they drove, + Xanthus, immortal progeny of Jove. + The river here divides the flying train, + Part to the town fly diverse o'er the plain, + Where late their troops triumphant bore the fight, + Now chased, and trembling in ignoble flight: + (These with a gathered mist Saturnia shrouds, + And rolls behind the rout a heap of clouds:) + Part plunge into the stream: old Xanthus roars, + The flashing billows beat the whiten'd shores: + With cries promiscuous all the banks resound, + And here, and there, in eddies whirling round, + The flouncing steeds and shrieking warriors drown'd. + As the scorch'd locusts from their fields retire, + While fast behind them runs the blaze of fire; + Driven from the land before the smoky cloud, + The clustering legions rush into the flood: + So, plunged in Xanthus by Achilles' force, + Roars the resounding surge with men and horse. + His bloody lance the hero casts aside, + (Which spreading tamarisks on the margin hide,) + Then, like a god, the rapid billows braves, + Arm'd with his sword, high brandish'd o'er the waves: + Now down he plunges, now he whirls it round, + Deep groan'd the waters with the dying sound; + Repeated wounds the reddening river dyed, + And the warm purple circled on the tide. + Swift through the foamy flood the Trojans fly, + And close in rocks or winding caverns lie: + So the huge dolphin tempesting the main, + In shoals before him fly the scaly train, + Confusedly heap'd they seek their inmost caves, + Or pant and heave beneath the floating waves. + Now, tired with slaughter, from the Trojan band + Twelve chosen youths he drags alive to land; + With their rich belts their captive arms restrains + (Late their proud ornaments, but now their chains). + These his attendants to the ships convey'd, + Sad victims destined to Patroclus' shade; + + Then, as once more he plunged amid the flood, + The young Lycaon in his passage stood; + The son of Priam; whom the hero's hand + But late made captive in his father's land + (As from a sycamore, his sounding steel + Lopp'd the green arms to spoke a chariot wheel) + To Lemnos' isle he sold the royal slave, + Where Jason's son the price demanded gave; + But kind Eetion, touching on the shore, + The ransom'd prince to fair Arisbe bore. + Ten days were past, since in his father's reign + He felt the sweets of liberty again; + The next, that god whom men in vain withstand + Gives the same youth to the same conquering hand + Now never to return! and doom'd to go + A sadder journey to the shades below. + His well-known face when great Achilles eyed, + (The helm and visor he had cast aside + With wild affright, and dropp'd upon the field + His useless lance and unavailing shield,) + As trembling, panting, from the stream he fled, + And knock'd his faltering knees, the hero said. + "Ye mighty gods! what wonders strike my view! + Is it in vain our conquering arms subdue? + Sure I shall see yon heaps of Trojans kill'd + Rise from the shades, and brave me on the field; + As now the captive, whom so late I bound + And sold to Lemnos, stalks on Trojan ground! + Not him the sea's unmeasured deeps detain, + That bar such numbers from their native plain; + Lo! he returns. Try, then, my flying spear! + Try, if the grave can hold the wanderer; + If earth, at length this active prince can seize, + Earth, whose strong grasp has held down Hercules." + + Thus while he spoke, the Trojan pale with fears + Approach'd, and sought his knees with suppliant tears + Loth as he was to yield his youthful breath, + And his soul shivering at the approach of death. + Achilles raised the spear, prepared to wound; + He kiss'd his feet, extended on the ground: + And while, above, the spear suspended stood, + Longing to dip its thirsty point in blood, + One hand embraced them close, one stopp'd the dart, + While thus these melting words attempt his heart: + + "Thy well-known captive, great Achilles! see, + Once more Lycaon trembles at thy knee. + Some pity to a suppliant's name afford, + Who shared the gifts of Ceres at thy board; + Whom late thy conquering arm to Lemnos bore, + Far from his father, friends, and native shore; + A hundred oxen were his price that day, + Now sums immense thy mercy shall repay. + Scarce respited from woes I yet appear, + And scarce twelve morning suns have seen me here; + Lo! Jove again submits me to thy hands, + Again, her victim cruel Fate demands! + I sprang from Priam, and Laothoe fair, + (Old Altes' daughter, and Lelegia's heir; + Who held in Pedasus his famed abode, + And ruled the fields where silver Satnio flow'd,) + Two sons (alas! unhappy sons) she bore; + For ah! one spear shall drink each brother's gore, + And I succeed to slaughter'd Polydore. + How from that arm of terror shall I fly? + Some demon urges! 'tis my doom to die! + If ever yet soft pity touch'd thy mind, + Ah! think not me too much of Hector's kind! + Not the same mother gave thy suppliant breath, + With his, who wrought thy loved Patroclus' death." + + These words, attended with a shower of tears, + The youth address'd to unrelenting ears: + "Talk not of life, or ransom (he replies): + Patroclus dead, whoever meets me, dies: + In vain a single Trojan sues for grace; + But least, the sons of Priam's hateful race. + Die then, my friend! what boots it to deplore? + The great, the good Patroclus is no more! + He, far thy better, was foredoom'd to die, + And thou, dost thou bewail mortality? + Seest thou not me, whom nature's gifts adorn, + Sprung from a hero, from a goddess born? + The day shall come (which nothing can avert) + When by the spear, the arrow, or the dart, + By night, or day, by force, or by design, + Impending death and certain fate are mine! + Die then,"--He said; and as the word he spoke, + The fainting stripling sank before the stroke: + His hand forgot its grasp, and left the spear, + While all his trembling frame confess'd his fear: + Sudden, Achilles his broad sword display'd, + And buried in his neck the reeking blade. + Prone fell the youth; and panting on the land, + The gushing purple dyed the thirsty sand. + The victor to the stream the carcase gave, + And thus insults him, floating on the wave: + + "Lie there, Lycaon! let the fish surround + Thy bloated corpse, and suck thy gory wound: + There no sad mother shall thy funerals weep, + But swift Scamander roll thee to the deep, + Whose every wave some watery monster brings, + To feast unpunish'd on the fat of kings. + So perish Troy, and all the Trojan line! + Such ruin theirs, and such compassion mine. + What boots ye now Scamander's worshipp'd stream, + His earthly honours, and immortal name? + In vain your immolated bulls are slain, + Your living coursers glut his gulfs in vain! + Thus he rewards you, with this bitter fate; + Thus, till the Grecian vengeance is complete: + Thus is atoned Patroclus' honour'd shade, + And the short absence of Achilles paid." + + These boastful words provoked the raging god; + With fury swells the violated flood. + What means divine may yet the power employ + To check Achilles, and to rescue Troy? + Meanwhile the hero springs in arms, to dare + The great Asteropeus to mortal war; + The son of Pelagon, whose lofty line + Flows from the source of Axius, stream divine! + (Fair Peribaea's love the god had crown'd, + With all his refluent waters circled round:) + On him Achilles rush'd; he fearless stood, + And shook two spears, advancing from the flood; + The flood impell'd him, on Pelides' head + To avenge his waters choked with heaps of dead. + Near as they drew, Achilles thus began: + + "What art thou, boldest of the race of man? + Who, or from whence? Unhappy is the sire + Whose son encounters our resistless ire." + + "O son of Peleus! what avails to trace + (Replied the warrior) our illustrious race? + From rich Paeonia's valleys I command, + Arm'd with protended spears, my native band; + Now shines the tenth bright morning since I came + In aid of Ilion to the fields of fame: + Axius, who swells with all the neighbouring rills, + And wide around the floated region fills, + Begot my sire, whose spear much glory won: + Now lift thy arm, and try that hero's son!" + + Threatening he said: the hostile chiefs advance; + At once Asteropeus discharged each lance, + (For both his dexterous hands the lance could wield,) + One struck, but pierced not, the Vulcanian shield; + One razed Achilles' hand; the spouting blood + Spun forth; in earth the fasten'd weapon stood. + Like lightning next the Pelean javelin flies: + Its erring fury hiss'd along the skies; + Deep in the swelling bank was driven the spear, + Even to the middle earth; and quiver'd there. + Then from his side the sword Pelides drew, + And on his foe with double fury flew. + The foe thrice tugg'd, and shook the rooted wood; + Repulsive of his might the weapon stood: + The fourth, he tries to break the spear in vain; + Bent as he stands, he tumbles to the plain; + His belly open'd with a ghastly wound, + The reeking entrails pour upon the ground. + Beneath the hero's feet he panting lies, + And his eye darkens, and his spirit flies; + While the proud victor thus triumphing said, + His radiant armour tearing from the dead: + + "So ends thy glory! Such the fate they prove, + Who strive presumptuous with the sons of Jove! + Sprung from a river, didst thou boast thy line? + But great Saturnius is the source of mine. + How durst thou vaunt thy watery progeny? + Of Peleus, AEacus, and Jove, am I. + The race of these superior far to those, + As he that thunders to the stream that flows. + What rivers can, Scamander might have shown; + But Jove he dreads, nor wars against his son. + Even Achelous might contend in vain, + And all the roaring billows of the main. + The eternal ocean, from whose fountains flow + The seas, the rivers, and the springs below, + The thundering voice of Jove abhors to hear, + And in his deep abysses shakes with fear." + + He said: then from the bank his javelin tore, + And left the breathless warrior in his gore. + The floating tides the bloody carcase lave, + And beat against it, wave succeeding wave; + Till, roll'd between the banks, it lies the food + Of curling eels, and fishes of the flood. + All scatter'd round the stream (their mightiest slain) + The amazed Paeonians scour along the plain; + He vents his fury on the flying crew, + Thrasius, Astyplus, and Mnesus slew; + Mydon, Thersilochus, with AEnius, fell; + And numbers more his lance had plunged to hell, + But from the bottom of his gulfs profound + Scamander spoke; the shores return'd the sound. + + "O first of mortals! (for the gods are thine) + In valour matchless, and in force divine! + If Jove have given thee every Trojan head, + 'Tis not on me thy rage should heap the dead. + See! my choked streams no more their course can keep, + Nor roll their wonted tribute to the deep. + Turn then, impetuous! from our injured flood; + Content, thy slaughters could amaze a god." + + In human form, confess'd before his eyes, + The river thus; and thus the chief replies: + "O sacred stream! thy word we shall obey; + But not till Troy the destined vengeance pay, + Not till within her towers the perjured train + Shall pant, and tremble at our arms again; + Not till proud Hector, guardian of her wall, + Or stain this lance, or see Achilles fall." + + He said; and drove with fury on the foe. + Then to the godhead of the silver bow + The yellow flood began: "O son of Jove! + Was not the mandate of the sire above + Full and express, that Phoebus should employ + His sacred arrows in defence of Troy, + And make her conquer, till Hyperion's fall + In awful darkness hide the face of all?" + + He spoke in vain--The chief without dismay + Ploughs through the boiling surge his desperate way. + Then rising in his rage above the shores, + From all his deep the bellowing river roars, + Huge heaps of slain disgorges on the coast, + And round the banks the ghastly dead are toss'd. + While all before, the billows ranged on high, + (A watery bulwark,) screen the bands who fly. + Now bursting on his head with thundering sound, + The falling deluge whelms the hero round: + His loaded shield bends to the rushing tide; + His feet, upborne, scarce the strong flood divide, + Sliddering, and staggering. On the border stood + A spreading elm, that overhung the flood; + He seized a bending bough, his steps to stay; + The plant uprooted to his weight gave way.(270) + Heaving the bank, and undermining all; + Loud flash the waters to the rushing fall + Of the thick foliage. The large trunk display'd + Bridged the rough flood across: the hero stay'd + On this his weight, and raised upon his hand, + Leap'd from the channel, and regain'd the land. + Then blacken'd the wild waves: the murmur rose: + The god pursues, a huger billow throws, + And bursts the bank, ambitious to destroy + The man whose fury is the fate of Troy. + He like the warlike eagle speeds his pace + (Swiftest and strongest of the aerial race); + Far as a spear can fly, Achilles springs; + At every bound his clanging armour rings: + Now here, now there, he turns on every side, + And winds his course before the following tide; + The waves flow after, wheresoe'er he wheels, + And gather fast, and murmur at his heels. + So when a peasant to his garden brings + Soft rills of water from the bubbling springs, + And calls the floods from high, to bless his bowers, + And feed with pregnant streams the plants and flowers: + Soon as he clears whate'er their passage stay'd, + And marks the future current with his spade, + Swift o'er the rolling pebbles, down the hills, + Louder and louder purl the falling rills; + Before him scattering, they prevent his pains, + And shine in mazy wanderings o'er the plains. + + Still flies Achilles, but before his eyes + Still swift Scamander rolls where'er he flies: + Not all his speed escapes the rapid floods; + The first of men, but not a match for gods. + Oft as he turn'd the torrent to oppose, + And bravely try if all the powers were foes; + So oft the surge, in watery mountains spread, + Beats on his back, or bursts upon his head. + Yet dauntless still the adverse flood he braves, + And still indignant bounds above the waves. + Tired by the tides, his knees relax with toil; + Wash'd from beneath him slides the slimy soil; + When thus (his eyes on heaven's expansion thrown) + Forth bursts the hero with an angry groan: + + "Is there no god Achilles to befriend, + No power to avert his miserable end? + Prevent, O Jove! this ignominious date,(271) + And make my future life the sport of fate. + Of all heaven's oracles believed in vain, + But most of Thetis must her son complain; + By Phoebus' darts she prophesied my fall, + In glorious arms before the Trojan wall. + Oh! had I died in fields of battle warm, + Stretch'd like a hero, by a hero's arm! + Might Hector's spear this dauntless bosom rend, + And my swift soul o'ertake my slaughter'd friend. + Ah no! Achilles meets a shameful fate, + Oh how unworthy of the brave and great! + Like some vile swain, whom on a rainy day, + Crossing a ford, the torrent sweeps away, + An unregarded carcase to the sea." + + Neptune and Pallas haste to his relief, + And thus in human form address'd the chief: + The power of ocean first: "Forbear thy fear, + O son of Peleus! Lo, thy gods appear! + Behold! from Jove descending to thy aid, + Propitious Neptune, and the blue-eyed maid. + Stay, and the furious flood shall cease to rave + 'Tis not thy fate to glut his angry wave. + But thou, the counsel heaven suggests, attend! + Nor breathe from combat, nor thy sword suspend, + Till Troy receive her flying sons, till all + Her routed squadrons pant behind their wall: + Hector alone shall stand his fatal chance, + And Hector's blood shall smoke upon thy lance. + Thine is the glory doom'd." Thus spake the gods: + Then swift ascended to the bright abodes. + + Stung with new ardour, thus by heaven impell'd, + He springs impetuous, and invades the field: + O'er all the expanded plain the waters spread; + Heaved on the bounding billows danced the dead, + Floating 'midst scatter'd arms; while casques of gold + And turn'd-up bucklers glitter'd as they roll'd. + High o'er the surging tide, by leaps and bounds, + He wades, and mounts; the parted wave resounds. + Not a whole river stops the hero's course, + While Pallas fills him with immortal force. + With equal rage, indignant Xanthus roars, + And lifts his billows, and o'erwhelms his shores. + + Then thus to Simois! "Haste, my brother flood; + And check this mortal that controls a god; + Our bravest heroes else shall quit the fight, + And Ilion tumble from her towery height. + Call then thy subject streams, and bid them roar, + From all thy fountains swell thy watery store, + With broken rocks, and with a load of dead, + Charge the black surge, and pour it on his head. + Mark how resistless through the floods he goes, + And boldly bids the warring gods be foes! + But nor that force, nor form divine to sight, + Shall aught avail him, if our rage unite: + Whelm'd under our dark gulfs those arms shall lie, + That blaze so dreadful in each Trojan eye; + And deep beneath a sandy mountain hurl'd, + Immersed remain this terror of the world. + Such ponderous ruin shall confound the place, + No Greeks shall e'er his perish'd relics grace, + No hand his bones shall gather, or inhume; + These his cold rites, and this his watery tomb." + + [Illustration: ACHILLES CONTENDING WITH THE RIVERS.] + + ACHILLES CONTENDING WITH THE RIVERS. + + + He said; and on the chief descends amain, + Increased with gore, and swelling with the slain. + Then, murmuring from his beds, he boils, he raves, + And a foam whitens on the purple waves: + At every step, before Achilles stood + The crimson surge, and deluged him with blood. + Fear touch'd the queen of heaven: she saw dismay'd, + She call'd aloud, and summon'd Vulcan's aid. + + "Rise to the war! the insulting flood requires + Thy wasteful arm! assemble all thy fires! + While to their aid, by our command enjoin'd, + Rush the swift eastern and the western wind: + These from old ocean at my word shall blow, + Pour the red torrent on the watery foe, + Corses and arms to one bright ruin turn, + And hissing rivers to their bottoms burn. + Go, mighty in thy rage! display thy power, + Drink the whole flood, the crackling trees devour. + Scorch all the banks! and (till our voice reclaim) + Exert the unwearied furies of the flame!" + + The power ignipotent her word obeys: + Wide o'er the plain he pours the boundless blaze; + At once consumes the dead, and dries the soil + And the shrunk waters in their channel boil. + As when autumnal Boreas sweeps the sky, + And instant blows the water'd gardens dry: + So look'd the field, so whiten'd was the ground, + While Vulcan breathed the fiery blast around. + Swift on the sedgy reeds the ruin preys; + Along the margin winds the running blaze: + The trees in flaming rows to ashes turn, + The flowering lotos and the tamarisk burn, + Broad elm, and cypress rising in a spire; + The watery willows hiss before the fire. + Now glow the waves, the fishes pant for breath, + The eels lie twisting in the pangs of death: + Now flounce aloft, now dive the scaly fry, + Or, gasping, turn their bellies to the sky. + At length the river rear'd his languid head, + And thus, short-panting, to the god he said: + + "Oh Vulcan! oh! what power resists thy might? + I faint, I sink, unequal to the fight-- + I yield--Let Ilion fall; if fate decree-- + Ah--bend no more thy fiery arms on me!" + + He ceased; wide conflagration blazing round; + The bubbling waters yield a hissing sound. + As when the flames beneath a cauldron rise,(272) + To melt the fat of some rich sacrifice, + Amid the fierce embrace of circling fires + The waters foam, the heavy smoke aspires: + So boils the imprison'd flood, forbid to flow, + And choked with vapours feels his bottom glow. + To Juno then, imperial queen of air, + The burning river sends his earnest prayer: + + "Ah why, Saturnia; must thy son engage + Me, only me, with all his wasteful rage? + On other gods his dreadful arm employ, + For mightier gods assert the cause of Troy. + Submissive I desist, if thou command; + But ah! withdraw this all-destroying hand. + Hear then my solemn oath, to yield to fate + Unaided Ilion, and her destined state, + Till Greece shall gird her with destructive flame, + And in one ruin sink the Trojan name." + + His warm entreaty touch'd Saturnia's ear: + She bade the ignipotent his rage forbear, + Recall the flame, nor in a mortal cause + Infest a god: the obedient flame withdraws: + Again the branching streams begin to spread, + And soft remurmur in their wonted bed. + + While these by Juno's will the strife resign, + The warring gods in fierce contention join: + Rekindling rage each heavenly breast alarms: + With horrid clangour shock the ethereal arms: + Heaven in loud thunder bids the trumpet sound; + And wide beneath them groans the rending ground. + Jove, as his sport, the dreadful scene descries, + And views contending gods with careless eyes. + The power of battles lifts his brazen spear, + And first assaults the radiant queen of war: + + "What moved thy madness, thus to disunite + Ethereal minds, and mix all heaven in fight? + What wonder this, when in thy frantic mood + Thou drovest a mortal to insult a god? + Thy impious hand Tydides' javelin bore, + And madly bathed it in celestial gore." + + He spoke, and smote the long-resounding shield, + Which bears Jove's thunder on its dreadful field: + The adamantine aegis of her sire, + That turns the glancing bolt and forked fire. + + Then heaved the goddess in her mighty hand + A stone, the limit of the neighbouring land, + There fix'd from eldest times; black, craggy, vast; + This at the heavenly homicide she cast. + Thundering he falls, a mass of monstrous size: + And seven broad acres covers as he lies. + The stunning stroke his stubborn nerves unbound: + Loud o'er the fields his ringing arms resound: + The scornful dame her conquest views with smiles, + And, glorying, thus the prostrate god reviles: + + "Hast thou not yet, insatiate fury! known + How far Minerva's force transcends thy own? + Juno, whom thou rebellious darest withstand, + Corrects thy folly thus by Pallas' hand; + Thus meets thy broken faith with just disgrace, + And partial aid to Troy's perfidious race." + + The goddess spoke, and turn'd her eyes away, + That, beaming round, diffused celestial day. + Jove's Cyprian daughter, stooping on the land, + Lent to the wounded god her tender hand: + Slowly he rises, scarcely breathes with pain, + And, propp'd on her fair arm, forsakes the plain. + This the bright empress of the heavens survey'd, + And, scoffing, thus to war's victorious maid: + + "Lo! what an aid on Mars's side is seen! + The smiles' and loves' unconquerable queen! + Mark with what insolence, in open view, + She moves: let Pallas, if she dares, pursue." + + Minerva smiling heard, the pair o'ertook, + And slightly on her breast the wanton strook: + She, unresisting, fell (her spirits fled); + On earth together lay the lovers spread. + "And like these heroes be the fate of all + (Minerva cries) who guard the Trojan wall! + To Grecian gods such let the Phrygian be, + So dread, so fierce, as Venus is to me; + Then from the lowest stone shall Troy be moved." + Thus she, and Juno with a smile approved. + + Meantime, to mix in more than mortal fight, + The god of ocean dares the god of light. + "What sloth has seized us, when the fields around + Ring with conflicting powers, and heaven returns the sound: + Shall, ignominious, we with shame retire, + No deed perform'd, to our Olympian sire? + Come, prove thy arm! for first the war to wage, + Suits not my greatness, or superior age: + Rash as thou art to prop the Trojan throne, + (Forgetful of my wrongs, and of thy own,) + And guard the race of proud Laomedon! + Hast thou forgot, how, at the monarch's prayer, + We shared the lengthen'd labours of a year? + Troy walls I raised (for such were Jove's commands), + And yon proud bulwarks grew beneath my hands: + Thy task it was to feed the bellowing droves + Along fair Ida's vales and pendant groves. + But when the circling seasons in their train + Brought back the grateful day that crown'd our pain, + With menace stern the fraudful king defied + Our latent godhead, and the prize denied: + Mad as he was, he threaten'd servile bands, + And doom'd us exiles far in barbarous lands.(273) + Incensed, we heavenward fled with swiftest wing, + And destined vengeance on the perjured king. + Dost thou, for this, afford proud Ilion grace, + And not, like us, infest the faithless race; + Like us, their present, future sons destroy, + And from its deep foundations heave their Troy?" + + Apollo thus: "To combat for mankind + Ill suits the wisdom of celestial mind; + For what is man? Calamitous by birth, + They owe their life and nourishment to earth; + Like yearly leaves, that now, with beauty crown'd, + Smile on the sun; now, wither on the ground. + To their own hands commit the frantic scene, + Nor mix immortals in a cause so mean." + + Then turns his face, far-beaming heavenly fires, + And from the senior power submiss retires: + Him thus retreating, Artemis upbraids, + The quiver'd huntress of the sylvan shades: + + "And is it thus the youthful Phoebus flies, + And yields to ocean's hoary sire the prize? + How vain that martial pomp, and dreadful show + Of pointed arrows and the silver bow! + Now boast no more in yon celestial bower, + Thy force can match the great earth-shaking power." + + Silent he heard the queen of woods upbraid: + Not so Saturnia bore the vaunting maid: + But furious thus: "What insolence has driven + Thy pride to face the majesty of heaven? + What though by Jove the female plague design'd, + Fierce to the feeble race of womankind, + The wretched matron feels thy piercing dart; + Thy sex's tyrant, with a tiger's heart? + What though tremendous in the woodland chase + Thy certain arrows pierce the savage race? + How dares thy rashness on the powers divine + Employ those arms, or match thy force with mine? + Learn hence, no more unequal war to wage--" + She said, and seized her wrists with eager rage; + These in her left hand lock'd, her right untied + The bow, the quiver, and its plumy pride. + About her temples flies the busy bow; + Now here, now there, she winds her from the blow; + The scattering arrows, rattling from the case, + Drop round, and idly mark the dusty place. + Swift from the field the baffled huntress flies, + And scarce restrains the torrent in her eyes: + So, when the falcon wings her way above, + To the cleft cavern speeds the gentle dove; + (Not fated yet to die;) there safe retreats, + Yet still her heart against the marble beats. + + To her Latona hastes with tender care; + Whom Hermes viewing, thus declines the war: + "How shall I face the dame, who gives delight + To him whose thunders blacken heaven with night? + Go, matchless goddess! triumph in the skies, + And boast my conquest, while I yield the prize." + + He spoke; and pass'd: Latona, stooping low, + Collects the scatter'd shafts and fallen bow, + That, glittering on the dust, lay here and there + Dishonour'd relics of Diana's war: + Then swift pursued her to her blest abode, + Where, all confused, she sought the sovereign god; + Weeping, she grasp'd his knees: the ambrosial vest + Shook with her sighs, and panted on her breast. + + The sire superior smiled, and bade her show + What heavenly hand had caused his daughter's woe? + Abash'd, she names his own imperial spouse; + And the pale crescent fades upon her brows. + + Thus they above: while, swiftly gliding down, + Apollo enters Ilion's sacred town; + The guardian-god now trembled for her wall, + And fear'd the Greeks, though fate forbade her fall. + Back to Olympus, from the war's alarms, + Return the shining bands of gods in arms; + Some proud in triumph, some with rage on fire; + And take their thrones around the ethereal sire. + + Through blood, through death, Achilles still proceeds, + O'er slaughter'd heroes, and o'er rolling steeds. + As when avenging flames with fury driven + On guilty towns exert the wrath of heaven; + The pale inhabitants, some fall, some fly; + And the red vapours purple all the sky: + So raged Achilles: death and dire dismay, + And toils, and terrors, fill'd the dreadful day. + + High on a turret hoary Priam stands, + And marks the waste of his destructive hands; + Views, from his arm, the Trojans' scatter'd flight, + And the near hero rising on his sight! + No stop, no check, no aid! With feeble pace, + And settled sorrow on his aged face, + Fast as he could, he sighing quits the walls; + And thus descending, on the guards he calls: + + "You to whose care our city-gates belong, + Set wide your portals to the flying throng: + For lo! he comes, with unresisted sway; + He comes, and desolation marks his way! + But when within the walls our troops take breath, + Lock fast the brazen bars, and shut out death." + Thus charged the reverend monarch: wide were flung + The opening folds; the sounding hinges rung. + Phoebus rush'd forth, the flying bands to meet; + Struck slaughter back, and cover'd the retreat, + On heaps the Trojans crowd to gain the gate, + And gladsome see their last escape from fate. + Thither, all parch'd with thirst, a heartless train, + Hoary with dust, they beat the hollow plain: + And gasping, panting, fainting, labour on + With heavier strides, that lengthen toward the town. + Enraged Achilles follows with his spear; + Wild with revenge, insatiable of war. + + Then had the Greeks eternal praise acquired, + And Troy inglorious to her walls retired; + But he, the god who darts ethereal flame, + Shot down to save her, and redeem her fame: + To young Agenor force divine he gave; + (Antenor's offspring, haughty, bold, and brave;) + In aid of him, beside the beech he sate, + And wrapt in clouds, restrain'd the hand of fate. + When now the generous youth Achilles spies. + Thick beats his heart, the troubled motions rise. + (So, ere a storm, the waters heave and roll.) + He stops, and questions thus his mighty soul; + + "What, shall I fly this terror of the plain! + Like others fly, and be like others slain? + Vain hope! to shun him by the self-same road + Yon line of slaughter'd Trojans lately trod. + No: with the common heap I scorn to fall-- + What if they pass'd me to the Trojan wall, + While I decline to yonder path, that leads + To Ida's forests and surrounding shades? + So may I reach, conceal'd, the cooling flood, + From my tired body wash the dirt and blood, + As soon as night her dusky veil extends, + Return in safety to my Trojan friends. + What if?--But wherefore all this vain debate? + Stand I to doubt, within the reach of fate? + Even now perhaps, ere yet I turn the wall, + The fierce Achilles sees me, and I fall: + Such is his swiftness, 'tis in vain to fly, + And such his valour, that who stands must die. + Howe'er 'tis better, fighting for the state, + Here, and in public view, to meet my fate. + Yet sure he too is mortal; he may feel + (Like all the sons of earth) the force of steel. + One only soul informs that dreadful frame: + And Jove's sole favour gives him all his fame." + + He said, and stood, collected, in his might; + And all his beating bosom claim'd the fight. + So from some deep-grown wood a panther starts, + Roused from his thicket by a storm of darts: + Untaught to fear or fly, he hears the sounds + Of shouting hunters, and of clamorous hounds; + Though struck, though wounded, scarce perceives the pain; + And the barb'd javelin stings his breast in vain: + On their whole war, untamed, the savage flies; + And tears his hunter, or beneath him dies. + Not less resolved, Antenor's valiant heir + Confronts Achilles, and awaits the war, + Disdainful of retreat: high held before, + His shield (a broad circumference) he bore; + Then graceful as he stood, in act to throw + The lifted javelin, thus bespoke the foe: + + "How proud Achilles glories in his fame! + And hopes this day to sink the Trojan name + Beneath her ruins! Know, that hope is vain; + A thousand woes, a thousand toils remain. + Parents and children our just arms employ, + And strong and many are the sons of Troy. + Great as thou art, even thou may'st stain with gore + These Phrygian fields, and press a foreign shore." + + He said: with matchless force the javelin flung + Smote on his knee; the hollow cuishes rung + Beneath the pointed steel; but safe from harms + He stands impassive in the ethereal arms. + Then fiercely rushing on the daring foe, + His lifted arm prepares the fatal blow: + But, jealous of his fame, Apollo shrouds + The god-like Trojan in a veil of clouds. + Safe from pursuit, and shut from mortal view, + Dismiss'd with fame, the favoured youth withdrew. + Meanwhile the god, to cover their escape, + Assumes Agenor's habit, voice and shape, + Flies from the furious chief in this disguise; + The furious chief still follows where he flies. + Now o'er the fields they stretch with lengthen'd strides, + Now urge the course where swift Scamander glides: + The god, now distant scarce a stride before, + Tempts his pursuit, and wheels about the shore; + While all the flying troops their speed employ, + And pour on heaps into the walls of Troy: + No stop, no stay; no thought to ask, or tell, + Who 'scaped by flight, or who by battle fell. + 'Twas tumult all, and violence of flight; + And sudden joy confused, and mix'd affright. + Pale Troy against Achilles shuts her gate: + And nations breathe, deliver'd from their fate. + + + + + +BOOK XXII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE DEATH OF HECTOR. + +The Trojans being safe within the walls, Hector only stays to oppose +Achilles. Priam is struck at his approach, and tries to persuade his son +to re-enter the town. Hecuba joins her entreaties, but in vain. Hector +consults within himself what measures to take; but at the advance of +Achilles, his resolution fails him, and he flies. Achilles pursues him +thrice round the walls of Troy. The gods debate concerning the fate of +Hector; at length Minerva descends to the aid of Achilles. She deludes +Hector in the shape of Deiphobus; he stands the combat, and is slain. +Achilles drags the dead body at his chariot in the sight of Priam and +Hecuba. Their lamentations, tears, and despair. Their cries reach the ears +of Andromache, who, ignorant of this, was retired into the inner part of +the palace: she mounts up to the walls, and beholds her dead husband. She +swoons at the spectacle. Her excess of grief and lamentation. + +The thirtieth day still continues. The scene lies under the walls, and on +the battlements of Troy. + + Thus to their bulwarks, smit with panic fear, + The herded Ilians rush like driven deer: + There safe they wipe the briny drops away, + And drown in bowls the labours of the day. + Close to the walls, advancing o'er the fields + Beneath one roof of well-compacted shields, + March, bending on, the Greeks' embodied powers, + Far stretching in the shade of Trojan towers. + Great Hector singly stay'd: chain'd down by fate + There fix'd he stood before the Scaean gate; + Still his bold arms determined to employ, + The guardian still of long-defended Troy. + + Apollo now to tired Achilles turns: + (The power confess'd in all his glory burns:) + "And what (he cries) has Peleus' son in view, + With mortal speed a godhead to pursue? + For not to thee to know the gods is given, + Unskill'd to trace the latent marks of heaven. + What boots thee now, that Troy forsook the plain? + Vain thy past labour, and thy present vain: + Safe in their walls are now her troops bestow'd, + While here thy frantic rage attacks a god." + + The chief incensed--"Too partial god of day! + To check my conquests in the middle way: + How few in Ilion else had refuge found! + What gasping numbers now had bit the ground! + Thou robb'st me of a glory justly mine, + Powerful of godhead, and of fraud divine: + Mean fame, alas! for one of heavenly strain, + To cheat a mortal who repines in vain." + + Then to the city, terrible and strong, + With high and haughty steps he tower'd along, + So the proud courser, victor of the prize, + To the near goal with double ardour flies. + Him, as he blazing shot across the field, + The careful eyes of Priam first beheld. + Not half so dreadful rises to the sight,(274) + Through the thick gloom of some tempestuous night, + Orion's dog (the year when autumn weighs), + And o'er the feebler stars exerts his rays; + Terrific glory! for his burning breath + Taints the red air with fevers, plagues, and death. + So flamed his fiery mail. Then wept the sage: + He strikes his reverend head, now white with age; + He lifts his wither'd arms; obtests the skies; + He calls his much-loved son with feeble cries: + The son, resolved Achilles' force to dare, + Full at the Scaean gates expects the war; + While the sad father on the rampart stands, + And thus adjures him with extended hands: + + "Ah stay not, stay not! guardless and alone; + Hector! my loved, my dearest, bravest son! + Methinks already I behold thee slain, + And stretch'd beneath that fury of the plain. + Implacable Achilles! might'st thou be + To all the gods no dearer than to me! + Thee, vultures wild should scatter round the shore. + And bloody dogs grow fiercer from thy gore. + How many valiant sons I late enjoy'd, + Valiant in vain! by thy cursed arm destroy'd: + Or, worse than slaughtered, sold in distant isles + To shameful bondage, and unworthy toils. + Two, while I speak, my eyes in vain explore, + Two from one mother sprung, my Polydore, + And loved Lycaon; now perhaps no more! + Oh! if in yonder hostile camp they live, + What heaps of gold, what treasures would I give! + (Their grandsire's wealth, by right of birth their own, + Consign'd his daughter with Lelegia's throne:) + But if (which Heaven forbid) already lost, + All pale they wander on the Stygian coast; + What sorrows then must their sad mother know, + What anguish I? unutterable woe! + Yet less that anguish, less to her, to me, + Less to all Troy, if not deprived of thee. + Yet shun Achilles! enter yet the wall; + And spare thyself, thy father, spare us all! + Save thy dear life; or, if a soul so brave + Neglect that thought, thy dearer glory save. + Pity, while yet I live, these silver hairs; + While yet thy father feels the woes he bears, + Yet cursed with sense! a wretch, whom in his rage + (All trembling on the verge of helpless age) + Great Jove has placed, sad spectacle of pain! + The bitter dregs of fortune's cup to drain: + To fill with scenes of death his closing eyes, + And number all his days by miseries! + My heroes slain, my bridal bed o'erturn'd, + My daughters ravish'd, and my city burn'd, + My bleeding infants dash'd against the floor; + These I have yet to see, perhaps yet more! + Perhaps even I, reserved by angry fate, + The last sad relic of my ruin'd state, + (Dire pomp of sovereign wretchedness!) must fall, + And stain the pavement of my regal hall; + Where famish'd dogs, late guardians of my door, + Shall lick their mangled master's spatter'd gore. + Yet for my sons I thank ye, gods! 'tis well; + Well have they perish'd, for in fight they fell. + Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best, + Struck through with wounds, all honest on the breast. + But when the fates, in fulness of their rage, + Spurn the hoar head of unresisting age, + In dust the reverend lineaments deform, + And pour to dogs the life-blood scarcely warm: + This, this is misery! the last, the worse, + That man can feel! man, fated to be cursed!" + + He said, and acting what no words could say, + Rent from his head the silver locks away. + With him the mournful mother bears a part; + Yet all her sorrows turn not Hector's heart. + The zone unbraced, her bosom she display'd; + And thus, fast-falling the salt tears, she said: + + "Have mercy on me, O my son! revere + The words of age; attend a parent's prayer! + If ever thee in these fond arms I press'd, + Or still'd thy infant clamours at this breast; + Ah do not thus our helpless years forego, + But, by our walls secured, repel the foe. + Against his rage if singly thou proceed, + Should'st thou, (but Heaven avert it!) should'st thou bleed, + Nor must thy corse lie honour'd on the bier, + Nor spouse, nor mother, grace thee with a tear! + Far from our pious rites those dear remains + Must feast the vultures on the naked plains." + + So they, while down their cheeks the torrents roll; + But fix'd remains the purpose of his soul; + Resolved he stands, and with a fiery glance + Expects the hero's terrible advance. + So, roll'd up in his den, the swelling snake + Beholds the traveller approach the brake; + When fed with noxious herbs his turgid veins + Have gather'd half the poisons of the plains; + He burns, he stiffens with collected ire, + And his red eyeballs glare with living fire. + Beneath a turret, on his shield reclined, + He stood, and question'd thus his mighty mind:(275) + + "Where lies my way? to enter in the wall? + Honour and shame the ungenerous thought recall: + Shall proud Polydamas before the gate + Proclaim, his counsels are obey'd too late, + Which timely follow'd but the former night, + What numbers had been saved by Hector's flight? + That wise advice rejected with disdain, + I feel my folly in my people slain. + Methinks my suffering country's voice I hear, + But most her worthless sons insult my ear, + On my rash courage charge the chance of war, + And blame those virtues which they cannot share. + No--if I e'er return, return I must + Glorious, my country's terror laid in dust: + Or if I perish, let her see me fall + In field at least, and fighting for her wall. + And yet suppose these measures I forego, + Approach unarm'd, and parley with the foe, + The warrior-shield, the helm, and lance, lay down. + And treat on terms of peace to save the town: + The wife withheld, the treasure ill-detain'd + (Cause of the war, and grievance of the land) + With honourable justice to restore: + And add half Ilion's yet remaining store, + Which Troy shall, sworn, produce; that injured Greece + May share our wealth, and leave our walls in peace. + But why this thought? Unarm'd if I should go, + What hope of mercy from this vengeful foe, + But woman-like to fall, and fall without a blow? + We greet not here, as man conversing man, + Met at an oak, or journeying o'er a plain; + No season now for calm familiar talk, + Like youths and maidens in an evening walk: + War is our business, but to whom is given + To die, or triumph, that, determine Heaven!" + + Thus pondering, like a god the Greek drew nigh; + His dreadful plumage nodded from on high; + The Pelian javelin, in his better hand, + Shot trembling rays that glitter'd o'er the land; + And on his breast the beamy splendour shone, + Like Jove's own lightning, or the rising sun. + As Hector sees, unusual terrors rise, + Struck by some god, he fears, recedes, and flies. + He leaves the gates, he leaves the wall behind: + Achilles follows like the winged wind. + Thus at the panting dove a falcon flies + (The swiftest racer of the liquid skies), + Just when he holds, or thinks he holds his prey, + Obliquely wheeling through the aerial way, + With open beak and shrilling cries he springs, + And aims his claws, and shoots upon his wings: + No less fore-right the rapid chase they held, + One urged by fury, one by fear impell'd: + Now circling round the walls their course maintain, + Where the high watch-tower overlooks the plain; + Now where the fig-trees spread their umbrage broad, + (A wider compass,) smoke along the road. + Next by Scamander's double source they bound, + Where two famed fountains burst the parted ground; + This hot through scorching clefts is seen to rise, + With exhalations steaming to the skies; + That the green banks in summer's heat o'erflows, + Like crystal clear, and cold as winter snows: + Each gushing fount a marble cistern fills, + Whose polish'd bed receives the falling rills; + Where Trojan dames (ere yet alarm'd by Greece) + Wash'd their fair garments in the days of peace.(276) + By these they pass'd, one chasing, one in flight: + (The mighty fled, pursued by stronger might:) + Swift was the course; no vulgar prize they play, + No vulgar victim must reward the day: + (Such as in races crown the speedy strife:) + The prize contended was great Hector's life. + As when some hero's funerals are decreed + In grateful honour of the mighty dead; + Where high rewards the vigorous youth inflame + (Some golden tripod, or some lovely dame) + The panting coursers swiftly turn the goal, + And with them turns the raised spectator's soul: + Thus three times round the Trojan wall they fly. + The gazing gods lean forward from the sky; + To whom, while eager on the chase they look, + The sire of mortals and immortals spoke: + + "Unworthy sight! the man beloved of heaven, + Behold, inglorious round yon city driven! + My heart partakes the generous Hector's pain; + Hector, whose zeal whole hecatombs has slain, + Whose grateful fumes the gods received with joy, + From Ida's summits, and the towers of Troy: + Now see him flying; to his fears resign'd, + And fate, and fierce Achilles, close behind. + Consult, ye powers! ('tis worthy your debate) + Whether to snatch him from impending fate, + Or let him bear, by stern Pelides slain, + (Good as he is) the lot imposed on man." + + Then Pallas thus: "Shall he whose vengeance forms + The forky bolt, and blackens heaven with storms, + Shall he prolong one Trojan's forfeit breath? + A man, a mortal, pre-ordain'd to death! + And will no murmurs fill the courts above? + No gods indignant blame their partial Jove?" + + "Go then (return'd the sire) without delay, + Exert thy will: I give the Fates their way. + Swift at the mandate pleased Tritonia flies, + And stoops impetuous from the cleaving skies. + + As through the forest, o'er the vale and lawn, + The well-breath'd beagle drives the flying fawn, + In vain he tries the covert of the brakes, + Or deep beneath the trembling thicket shakes; + Sure of the vapour in the tainted dews, + The certain hound his various maze pursues. + Thus step by step, where'er the Trojan wheel'd, + There swift Achilles compass'd round the field. + Oft as to reach the Dardan gates he bends, + And hopes the assistance of his pitying friends, + (Whose showering arrows, as he coursed below, + From the high turrets might oppress the foe,) + So oft Achilles turns him to the plain: + He eyes the city, but he eyes in vain. + As men in slumbers seem with speedy pace, + One to pursue, and one to lead the chase, + Their sinking limbs the fancied course forsake, + Nor this can fly, nor that can overtake: + No less the labouring heroes pant and strain: + While that but flies, and this pursues in vain. + + What god, O muse, assisted Hector's force + With fate itself so long to hold the course? + Phoebus it was; who, in his latest hour, + Endued his knees with strength, his nerves with power: + And great Achilles, lest some Greek's advance + Should snatch the glory from his lifted lance, + Sign'd to the troops to yield his foe the way, + And leave untouch'd the honours of the day. + + Jove lifts the golden balances, that show + The fates of mortal men, and things below: + Here each contending hero's lot he tries, + And weighs, with equal hand, their destinies. + Low sinks the scale surcharged with Hector's fate; + Heavy with death it sinks, and hell receives the weight. + + Then Phoebus left him. Fierce Minerva flies + To stern Pelides, and triumphing, cries: + "O loved of Jove! this day our labours cease, + And conquest blazes with full beams on Greece. + Great Hector falls; that Hector famed so far, + Drunk with renown, insatiable of war, + Falls by thy hand, and mine! nor force, nor flight, + Shall more avail him, nor his god of light. + See, where in vain he supplicates above, + Roll'd at the feet of unrelenting Jove; + Rest here: myself will lead the Trojan on, + And urge to meet the fate he cannot shun." + + Her voice divine the chief with joyful mind + Obey'd; and rested, on his lance reclined + While like Deiphobus the martial dame + (Her face, her gesture, and her arms the same), + In show an aid, by hapless Hector's side + Approach'd, and greets him thus with voice belied: + + "Too long, O Hector! have I borne the sight + Of this distress, and sorrow'd in thy flight: + It fits us now a noble stand to make, + And here, as brothers, equal fates partake." + + Then he: "O prince! allied in blood and fame, + Dearer than all that own a brother's name; + Of all that Hecuba to Priam bore, + Long tried, long loved: much loved, but honoured more! + Since you, of all our numerous race alone + Defend my life, regardless of your own." + + Again the goddess: "Much my father's prayer, + And much my mother's, press'd me to forbear: + My friends embraced my knees, adjured my stay, + But stronger love impell'd, and I obey. + Come then, the glorious conflict let us try, + Let the steel sparkle, and the javelin fly; + Or let us stretch Achilles on the field, + Or to his arm our bloody trophies yield." + + Fraudful she said; then swiftly march'd before: + The Dardan hero shuns his foe no more. + Sternly they met. The silence Hector broke: + His dreadful plumage nodded as he spoke: + + "Enough, O son of Peleus! Troy has view'd + Her walls thrice circled, and her chief pursued. + But now some god within me bids me try + Thine, or my fate: I kill thee, or I die. + Yet on the verge of battle let us stay, + And for a moment's space suspend the day; + Let Heaven's high powers be call'd to arbitrate + The just conditions of this stern debate, + (Eternal witnesses of all below, + And faithful guardians of the treasured vow!) + To them I swear; if, victor in the strife, + Jove by these hands shall shed thy noble life, + No vile dishonour shall thy corse pursue; + Stripp'd of its arms alone (the conqueror's due) + The rest to Greece uninjured I'll restore: + Now plight thy mutual oath, I ask no more." + + "Talk not of oaths (the dreadful chief replies, + While anger flash'd from his disdainful eyes), + Detested as thou art, and ought to be, + Nor oath nor pact Achilles plights with thee: + Such pacts as lambs and rabid wolves combine, + Such leagues as men and furious lions join, + To such I call the gods! one constant state + Of lasting rancour and eternal hate: + No thought but rage, and never-ceasing strife, + Till death extinguish rage, and thought, and life. + Rouse then thy forces this important hour, + Collect thy soul, and call forth all thy power. + No further subterfuge, no further chance; + 'Tis Pallas, Pallas gives thee to my lance. + Each Grecian ghost, by thee deprived of breath, + Now hovers round, and calls thee to thy death." + + He spoke, and launch'd his javelin at the foe; + But Hector shunn'd the meditated blow: + He stoop'd, while o'er his head the flying spear + Sang innocent, and spent its force in air. + Minerva watch'd it falling on the land, + Then drew, and gave to great Achilles' hand, + Unseen of Hector, who, elate with joy, + Now shakes his lance, and braves the dread of Troy. + + "The life you boasted to that javelin given, + Prince! you have miss'd. My fate depends on Heaven, + To thee, presumptuous as thou art, unknown, + Or what must prove my fortune, or thy own. + Boasting is but an art, our fears to blind, + And with false terrors sink another's mind. + But know, whatever fate I am to try, + By no dishonest wound shall Hector die. + I shall not fall a fugitive at least, + My soul shall bravely issue from my breast. + But first, try thou my arm; and may this dart + End all my country's woes, deep buried in thy heart." + + The weapon flew, its course unerring held, + Unerring, but the heavenly shield repell'd + The mortal dart; resulting with a bound + From off the ringing orb, it struck the ground. + Hector beheld his javelin fall in vain, + Nor other lance, nor other hope remain; + He calls Deiphobus, demands a spear-- + In vain, for no Deiphobus was there. + All comfortless he stands: then, with a sigh; + "'Tis so--Heaven wills it, and my hour is nigh! + I deem'd Deiphobus had heard my call, + But he secure lies guarded in the wall. + A god deceived me; Pallas, 'twas thy deed, + Death and black fate approach! 'tis I must bleed. + No refuge now, no succour from above, + Great Jove deserts me, and the son of Jove, + Propitious once, and kind! Then welcome fate! + 'Tis true I perish, yet I perish great: + Yet in a mighty deed I shall expire, + Let future ages hear it, and admire!" + + Fierce, at the word, his weighty sword he drew, + And, all collected, on Achilles flew. + So Jove's bold bird, high balanced in the air, + Stoops from the clouds to truss the quivering hare. + Nor less Achilles his fierce soul prepares: + Before his breast the flaming shield he bears, + Refulgent orb! above his fourfold cone + The gilded horse-hair sparkled in the sun. + Nodding at every step: (Vulcanian frame!) + And as he moved, his figure seem'd on flame. + As radiant Hesper shines with keener light,(277) + Far-beaming o'er the silver host of night, + When all the starry train emblaze the sphere: + So shone the point of great Achilles' spear. + In his right hand he waves the weapon round, + Eyes the whole man, and meditates the wound; + But the rich mail Patroclus lately wore + Securely cased the warrior's body o'er. + One space at length he spies, to let in fate, + Where 'twixt the neck and throat the jointed plate + Gave entrance: through that penetrable part + Furious he drove the well-directed dart: + Nor pierced the windpipe yet, nor took the power + Of speech, unhappy! from thy dying hour. + Prone on the field the bleeding warrior lies, + While, thus triumphing, stern Achilles cries: + + "At last is Hector stretch'd upon the plain, + Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus slain: + Then, prince! you should have fear'd, what now you feel; + Achilles absent was Achilles still: + Yet a short space the great avenger stayed, + Then low in dust thy strength and glory laid. + Peaceful he sleeps, with all our rites adorn'd, + For ever honour'd, and for ever mourn'd: + While cast to all the rage of hostile power, + Thee birds shall mangle, and the gods devour." + + Then Hector, fainting at the approach of death: + "By thy own soul! by those who gave thee breath! + By all the sacred prevalence of prayer; + Ah, leave me not for Grecian dogs to tear! + The common rites of sepulture bestow, + To soothe a father's and a mother's woe: + Let their large gifts procure an urn at least, + And Hector's ashes in his country rest." + + "No, wretch accursed! relentless he replies; + (Flames, as he spoke, shot flashing from his eyes;) + Not those who gave me breath should bid me spare, + Nor all the sacred prevalence of prayer. + Could I myself the bloody banquet join! + No--to the dogs that carcase I resign. + Should Troy, to bribe me, bring forth all her store, + And giving thousands, offer thousands more; + Should Dardan Priam, and his weeping dame, + Drain their whole realm to buy one funeral flame: + Their Hector on the pile they should not see, + Nor rob the vultures of one limb of thee." + + Then thus the chief his dying accents drew: + "Thy rage, implacable! too well I knew: + The Furies that relentless breast have steel'd, + And cursed thee with a heart that cannot yield. + Yet think, a day will come, when fate's decree + And angry gods shall wreak this wrong on thee; + Phoebus and Paris shall avenge my fate, + And stretch thee here before the Scaean gate."(278) + + He ceased. The Fates suppress'd his labouring breath, + And his eyes stiffen'd at the hand of death; + To the dark realm the spirit wings its way, + (The manly body left a load of clay,) + And plaintive glides along the dreary coast, + A naked, wandering, melancholy ghost! + + Achilles, musing as he roll'd his eyes + O'er the dead hero, thus unheard, replies: + "Die thou the first! When Jove and heaven ordain, + I follow thee"--He said, and stripp'd the slain. + Then forcing backward from the gaping wound + The reeking javelin, cast it on the ground. + The thronging Greeks behold with wondering eyes + His manly beauty and superior size; + While some, ignobler, the great dead deface + With wounds ungenerous, or with taunts disgrace: + + "How changed that Hector, who like Jove of late + Sent lightning on our fleets, and scatter'd fate!" + + High o'er the slain the great Achilles stands, + Begirt with heroes and surrounding bands; + And thus aloud, while all the host attends: + "Princes and leaders! countrymen and friends! + Since now at length the powerful will of heaven + The dire destroyer to our arm has given, + Is not Troy fallen already? Haste, ye powers! + See, if already their deserted towers + Are left unmann'd; or if they yet retain + The souls of heroes, their great Hector slain. + But what is Troy, or glory what to me? + Or why reflects my mind on aught but thee, + Divine Patroclus! Death hath seal'd his eyes; + Unwept, unhonour'd, uninterr'd he lies! + Can his dear image from my soul depart, + Long as the vital spirit moves my heart? + If in the melancholy shades below, + The flames of friends and lovers cease to glow, + Yet mine shall sacred last; mine, undecay'd, + Burn on through death, and animate my shade. + Meanwhile, ye sons of Greece, in triumph bring + The corpse of Hector, and your paeans sing. + Be this the song, slow-moving toward the shore, + "Hector is dead, and Ilion is no more." + + Then his fell soul a thought of vengeance bred; + (Unworthy of himself, and of the dead;) + The nervous ancles bored, his feet he bound + With thongs inserted through the double wound; + These fix'd up high behind the rolling wain, + His graceful head was trail'd along the plain. + Proud on his car the insulting victor stood, + And bore aloft his arms, distilling blood. + He smites the steeds; the rapid chariot flies; + The sudden clouds of circling dust arise. + Now lost is all that formidable air; + The face divine, and long-descending hair, + Purple the ground, and streak the sable sand; + Deform'd, dishonour'd, in his native land, + Given to the rage of an insulting throng, + And, in his parents' sight, now dragg'd along! + + The mother first beheld with sad survey; + She rent her tresses, venerable grey, + And cast, far off, the regal veils away. + With piercing shrieks his bitter fate she moans, + While the sad father answers groans with groans + Tears after tears his mournful cheeks o'erflow, + And the whole city wears one face of woe: + No less than if the rage of hostile fires. + From her foundations curling to her spires, + O'er the proud citadel at length should rise, + And the last blaze send Ilion to the skies. + The wretched monarch of the falling state, + Distracted, presses to the Dardan gate. + Scarce the whole people stop his desperate course, + While strong affliction gives the feeble force: + Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro, + In all the raging impotence of woe. + At length he roll'd in dust, and thus begun, + Imploring all, and naming one by one: + "Ah! let me, let me go where sorrow calls; + I, only I, will issue from your walls + (Guide or companion, friends! I ask ye none), + And bow before the murderer of my son. + My grief perhaps his pity may engage; + Perhaps at least he may respect my age. + He has a father too; a man like me; + One, not exempt from age and misery + (Vigorous no more, as when his young embrace + Begot this pest of me, and all my race). + How many valiant sons, in early bloom, + Has that cursed hand send headlong to the tomb! + Thee, Hector! last: thy loss (divinely brave) + Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave. + O had thy gentle spirit pass'd in peace, + The son expiring in the sire's embrace, + While both thy parents wept the fatal hour, + And, bending o'er thee, mix'd the tender shower! + Some comfort that had been, some sad relief, + To melt in full satiety of grief!" + + Thus wail'd the father, grovelling on the ground, + And all the eyes of Ilion stream'd around. + + Amidst her matrons Hecuba appears: + (A mourning princess, and a train in tears;) + "Ah why has Heaven prolong'd this hated breath, + Patient of horrors, to behold thy death? + O Hector! late thy parents' pride and joy, + The boast of nations! the defence of Troy! + To whom her safety and her fame she owed; + Her chief, her hero, and almost her god! + O fatal change! become in one sad day + A senseless corse! inanimated clay!" + + But not as yet the fatal news had spread + To fair Andromache, of Hector dead; + As yet no messenger had told his fate, + Not e'en his stay without the Scaean gate. + Far in the close recesses of the dome, + Pensive she plied the melancholy loom; + A growing work employ'd her secret hours, + Confusedly gay with intermingled flowers. + Her fair-haired handmaids heat the brazen urn, + The bath preparing for her lord's return + In vain; alas! her lord returns no more; + Unbathed he lies, and bleeds along the shore! + Now from the walls the clamours reach her ear, + And all her members shake with sudden fear: + Forth from her ivory hand the shuttle falls, + And thus, astonish'd, to her maids she calls: + + [Illustration: THE BATH.] + + THE BATH. + + + "Ah follow me! (she cried) what plaintive noise + Invades my ear? 'Tis sure my mother's voice. + My faltering knees their trembling frame desert, + A pulse unusual flutters at my heart; + Some strange disaster, some reverse of fate + (Ye gods avert it!) threats the Trojan state. + Far be the omen which my thoughts suggest! + But much I fear my Hector's dauntless breast + Confronts Achilles; chased along the plain, + Shut from our walls! I fear, I fear him slain! + Safe in the crowd he ever scorn'd to wait, + And sought for glory in the jaws of fate: + Perhaps that noble heat has cost his breath, + Now quench'd for ever in the arms of death." + + She spoke: and furious, with distracted pace, + Fears in her heart, and anguish in her face, + Flies through the dome (the maids her steps pursue), + And mounts the walls, and sends around her view. + Too soon her eyes the killing object found, + The godlike Hector dragg'd along the ground. + A sudden darkness shades her swimming eyes: + She faints, she falls; her breath, her colour flies. + Her hair's fair ornaments, the braids that bound, + The net that held them, and the wreath that crown'd, + The veil and diadem flew far away + (The gift of Venus on her bridal day). + Around a train of weeping sisters stands, + To raise her sinking with assistant hands. + Scarce from the verge of death recall'd, again + She faints, or but recovers to complain. + + [Illustration: ANDROMACHE FAINTING ON THE WALL.] + + ANDROMACHE FAINTING ON THE WALL. + + + "O wretched husband of a wretched wife! + Born with one fate, to one unhappy life! + For sure one star its baneful beam display'd + On Priam's roof, and Hippoplacia's shade. + From different parents, different climes we came. + At different periods, yet our fate the same! + Why was my birth to great Aetion owed, + And why was all that tender care bestow'd? + Would I had never been!--O thou, the ghost + Of my dead husband! miserably lost! + Thou to the dismal realms for ever gone! + And I abandon'd, desolate, alone! + An only child, once comfort of my pains, + Sad product now of hapless love, remains! + No more to smile upon his sire; no friend + To help him now! no father to defend! + For should he 'scape the sword, the common doom, + What wrongs attend him, and what griefs to come! + Even from his own paternal roof expell'd, + Some stranger ploughs his patrimonial field. + The day, that to the shades the father sends, + Robs the sad orphan of his father's friends: + He, wretched outcast of mankind! appears + For ever sad, for ever bathed in tears; + Amongst the happy, unregarded, he + Hangs on the robe, or trembles at the knee, + While those his father's former bounty fed + Nor reach the goblet, nor divide the bread: + The kindest but his present wants allay, + To leave him wretched the succeeding day. + Frugal compassion! Heedless, they who boast + Both parents still, nor feel what he has lost, + Shall cry, 'Begone! thy father feasts not here:' + The wretch obeys, retiring with a tear. + Thus wretched, thus retiring all in tears, + To my sad soul Astyanax appears! + Forced by repeated insults to return, + And to his widow'd mother vainly mourn: + He, who, with tender delicacy bred, + With princes sported, and on dainties fed, + And when still evening gave him up to rest, + Sunk soft in down upon the nurse's breast, + Must--ah what must he not? Whom Ilion calls + Astyanax, from her well-guarded walls,(279) + Is now that name no more, unhappy boy! + Since now no more thy father guards his Troy. + But thou, my Hector, liest exposed in air, + Far from thy parents' and thy consort's care; + Whose hand in vain, directed by her love, + The martial scarf and robe of triumph wove. + Now to devouring flames be these a prey, + Useless to thee, from this accursed day! + Yet let the sacrifice at least be paid, + An honour to the living, not the dead!" + + So spake the mournful dame: her matrons hear, + Sigh back her sighs, and answer tear with tear. + + + + + +BOOK XXIII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +FUNERAL GAMES IN HONOUR OF PATROCLUS.(280) + +Achilles and the Myrmidons do honours to the body of Patroclus. After the +funeral feast he retires to the sea-shore, where, falling asleep, the +ghost of his friend appears to him, and demands the rites of burial; the +next morning the soldiers are sent with mules and waggons to fetch wood +for the pyre. The funeral procession, and the offering their hair to the +dead. Achilles sacrifices several animals, and lastly twelve Trojan +captives, at the pile; then sets fire to it. He pays libations to the +Winds, which (at the instance of Iris) rise, and raise the flames. When +the pile has burned all night, they gather the bones, place them in an urn +of gold, and raise the tomb. Achilles institutes the funeral games: the +chariot-race, the fight of the caestus, the wrestling, the foot-race, the +single combat, the discus, the shooting with arrows, the darting the +javelin: the various descriptions of which, and the various success of the +several antagonists, make the greatest part of the book. + +In this book ends the thirtieth day. The night following, the ghost of +Patroclus appears to Achilles: the one-and-thirtieth day is employed in +felling the timber for the pile: the two-and-thirtieth in burning it; and +the three-and-thirtieth in the games. The scene is generally on the +sea-shore. + + Thus humbled in the dust, the pensive train + Through the sad city mourn'd her hero slain. + The body soil'd with dust, and black with gore, + Lies on broad Hellespont's resounding shore. + The Grecians seek their ships, and clear the strand, + All, but the martial Myrmidonian band: + These yet assembled great Achilles holds, + And the stern purpose of his mind unfolds: + + "Not yet, my brave companions of the war, + Release your smoking coursers from the car; + But, with his chariot each in order led, + Perform due honours to Patroclus dead. + Ere yet from rest or food we seek relief, + Some rites remain, to glut our rage of grief." + + The troops obey'd; and thrice in order led(281) + (Achilles first) their coursers round the dead; + And thrice their sorrows and laments renew; + Tears bathe their arms, and tears the sands bedew. + For such a warrior Thetis aids their woe, + Melts their strong hearts, and bids their eyes to flow. + But chief, Pelides: thick-succeeding sighs + Burst from his heart, and torrents from his eyes: + His slaughtering hands, yet red with blood, he laid + On his dead friend's cold breast, and thus he said: + + "All hail, Patroclus! let thy honour'd ghost + Hear, and rejoice on Pluto's dreary coast; + Behold! Achilles' promise is complete; + The bloody Hector stretch'd before thy feet. + Lo! to the dogs his carcase I resign; + And twelve sad victims, of the Trojan line, + Sacred to vengeance, instant shall expire; + Their lives effused around thy funeral pyre." + + Gloomy he said, and (horrible to view) + Before the bier the bleeding Hector threw, + Prone on the dust. The Myrmidons around + Unbraced their armour, and the steeds unbound. + All to Achilles' sable ship repair, + Frequent and full, the genial feast to share. + Now from the well-fed swine black smokes aspire, + The bristly victims hissing o'er the fire: + The huge ox bellowing falls; with feebler cries + Expires the goat; the sheep in silence dies. + Around the hero's prostrate body flow'd, + In one promiscuous stream, the reeking blood. + And now a band of Argive monarchs brings + The glorious victor to the king of kings. + From his dead friend the pensive warrior went, + With steps unwilling, to the regal tent. + The attending heralds, as by office bound, + With kindled flames the tripod-vase surround: + To cleanse his conquering hands from hostile gore, + They urged in vain; the chief refused, and swore:(282) + + "No drop shall touch me, by almighty Jove! + The first and greatest of the gods above! + Till on the pyre I place thee; till I rear + The grassy mound, and clip thy sacred hair. + Some ease at least those pious rites may give, + And soothe my sorrows, while I bear to live. + Howe'er, reluctant as I am, I stay + And share your feast; but with the dawn of day, + (O king of men!) it claims thy royal care, + That Greece the warrior's funeral pile prepare, + And bid the forests fall: (such rites are paid + To heroes slumbering in eternal shade:) + Then, when his earthly part shall mount in fire, + Let the leagued squadrons to their posts retire." + + He spoke: they hear him, and the word obey; + The rage of hunger and of thirst allay, + Then ease in sleep the labours of the day. + But great Pelides, stretch'd along the shore, + Where, dash'd on rocks, the broken billows roar, + Lies inly groaning; while on either hand + The martial Myrmidons confusedly stand. + Along the grass his languid members fall, + Tired with his chase around the Trojan wall; + Hush'd by the murmurs of the rolling deep, + At length he sinks in the soft arms of sleep. + When lo! the shade, before his closing eyes, + Of sad Patroclus rose, or seem'd to rise: + In the same robe he living wore, he came: + In stature, voice, and pleasing look, the same. + The form familiar hover'd o'er his head, + "And sleeps Achilles? (thus the phantom said:) + Sleeps my Achilles, his Patroclus dead? + Living, I seem'd his dearest, tenderest care, + But now forgot, I wander in the air. + Let my pale corse the rites of burial know, + And give me entrance in the realms below: + Till then the spirit finds no resting-place, + But here and there the unbodied spectres chase + The vagrant dead around the dark abode, + Forbid to cross the irremeable flood. + Now give thy hand; for to the farther shore + When once we pass, the soul returns no more: + When once the last funereal flames ascend, + No more shall meet Achilles and his friend; + No more our thoughts to those we loved make known; + Or quit the dearest, to converse alone. + Me fate has sever'd from the sons of earth, + The fate fore-doom'd that waited from my birth: + Thee too it waits; before the Trojan wall + Even great and godlike thou art doom'd to fall. + Hear then; and as in fate and love we join, + Ah suffer that my bones may rest with thine! + Together have we lived; together bred, + One house received us, and one table fed; + That golden urn, thy goddess-mother gave, + May mix our ashes in one common grave." + + "And is it thou? (he answers) To my sight(283) + Once more return'st thou from the realms of night? + O more than brother! Think each office paid, + Whate'er can rest a discontented shade; + But grant one last embrace, unhappy boy! + Afford at least that melancholy joy." + + He said, and with his longing arms essay'd + In vain to grasp the visionary shade! + Like a thin smoke he sees the spirit fly,(284) + And hears a feeble, lamentable cry. + Confused he wakes; amazement breaks the bands + Of golden sleep, and starting from the sands, + Pensive he muses with uplifted hands: + + "'Tis true, 'tis certain; man, though dead, retains + Part of himself; the immortal mind remains: + The form subsists without the body's aid, + Aerial semblance, and an empty shade! + This night my friend, so late in battle lost, + Stood at my side, a pensive, plaintive ghost: + Even now familiar, as in life, he came; + Alas! how different! yet how like the same!" + + Thus while he spoke, each eye grew big with tears: + And now the rosy-finger'd morn appears, + Shows every mournful face with tears o'erspread, + And glares on the pale visage of the dead. + But Agamemnon, as the rites demand, + With mules and waggons sends a chosen band + To load the timber, and the pile to rear; + A charge consign'd to Merion's faithful care. + With proper instruments they take the road, + Axes to cut, and ropes to sling the load. + First march the heavy mules, securely slow, + O'er hills, o'er dales, o'er crags, o'er rocks they go:(285) + Jumping, high o'er the shrubs of the rough ground, + Rattle the clattering cars, and the shock'd axles bound + But when arrived at Ida's spreading woods,(286) + (Fair Ida, water'd with descending floods,) + Loud sounds the axe, redoubling strokes on strokes; + On all sides round the forest hurls her oaks + Headlong. Deep echoing groan the thickets brown; + Then rustling, crackling, crashing, thunder down. + The wood the Grecians cleave, prepared to burn; + And the slow mules the same rough road return + The sturdy woodmen equal burdens bore + (Such charge was given them) to the sandy shore; + There on the spot which great Achilles show'd, + They eased their shoulders, and disposed the load; + Circling around the place, where times to come + Shall view Patroclus' and Achilles' tomb. + The hero bids his martial troops appear + High on their cars in all the pomp of war; + Each in refulgent arms his limbs attires, + All mount their chariots, combatants and squires. + The chariots first proceed, a shining train; + Then clouds of foot that smoke along the plain; + Next these the melancholy band appear; + Amidst, lay dead Patroclus on the bier; + O'er all the corse their scattered locks they throw; + Achilles next, oppress'd with mighty woe, + Supporting with his hands the hero's head, + Bends o'er the extended body of the dead. + Patroclus decent on the appointed ground + They place, and heap the sylvan pile around. + But great Achilles stands apart in prayer, + And from his head divides the yellow hair; + Those curling locks which from his youth he vow'd,(287) + And sacred grew, to Sperchius' honour'd flood: + Then sighing, to the deep his locks he cast, + And roll'd his eyes around the watery waste: + + "Sperchius! whose waves in mazy errors lost + Delightful roll along my native coast! + To whom we vainly vow'd, at our return, + These locks to fall, and hecatombs to burn: + Full fifty rams to bleed in sacrifice, + Where to the day thy silver fountains rise, + And where in shade of consecrated bowers + Thy altars stand, perfumed with native flowers! + So vow'd my father, but he vow'd in vain; + No more Achilles sees his native plain; + In that vain hope these hairs no longer grow, + Patroclus bears them to the shades below." + + Thus o'er Patroclus while the hero pray'd, + On his cold hand the sacred lock he laid. + Once more afresh the Grecian sorrows flow: + And now the sun had set upon their woe; + But to the king of men thus spoke the chief: + "Enough, Atrides! give the troops relief: + Permit the mourning legions to retire, + And let the chiefs alone attend the pyre; + The pious care be ours, the dead to burn--" + He said: the people to their ships return: + While those deputed to inter the slain + Heap with a rising pyramid the plain.(288) + A hundred foot in length, a hundred wide, + The growing structure spreads on every side; + High on the top the manly corse they lay, + And well-fed sheep and sable oxen slay: + Achilles covered with their fat the dead, + And the piled victims round the body spread; + Then jars of honey, and of fragrant oil, + Suspends around, low-bending o'er the pile. + Four sprightly coursers, with a deadly groan + Pour forth their lives, and on the pyre are thrown. + Of nine large dogs, domestic at his board, + Fall two, selected to attend their lord, + Then last of all, and horrible to tell, + Sad sacrifice! twelve Trojan captives fell.(289) + On these the rage of fire victorious preys, + Involves and joins them in one common blaze. + Smear'd with the bloody rites, he stands on high, + And calls the spirit with a dreadful cry:(290) + + "All hail, Patroclus! let thy vengeful ghost + Hear, and exult, on Pluto's dreary coast. + Behold Achilles' promise fully paid, + Twelve Trojan heroes offer'd to thy shade; + But heavier fates on Hector's corse attend, + Saved from the flames, for hungry dogs to rend." + + So spake he, threatening: but the gods made vain + His threat, and guard inviolate the slain: + Celestial Venus hover'd o'er his head, + And roseate unguents, heavenly fragrance! shed: + She watch'd him all the night and all the day, + And drove the bloodhounds from their destined prey. + Nor sacred Phoebus less employ'd his care; + He pour'd around a veil of gather'd air, + And kept the nerves undried, the flesh entire, + Against the solar beam and Sirian fire. + + [Illustration: THE FUNERAL PILE OF PATROCLUS.] + + THE FUNERAL PILE OF PATROCLUS. + + + Nor yet the pile, where dead Patroclus lies, + Smokes, nor as yet the sullen flames arise; + But, fast beside, Achilles stood in prayer, + Invoked the gods whose spirit moves the air, + And victims promised, and libations cast, + To gentle Zephyr and the Boreal blast: + He call'd the aerial powers, along the skies + To breathe, and whisper to the fires to rise. + The winged Iris heard the hero's call, + And instant hasten'd to their airy hall, + Where in old Zephyr's open courts on high, + Sat all the blustering brethren of the sky. + She shone amidst them, on her painted bow; + The rocky pavement glitter'd with the show. + All from the banquet rise, and each invites + The various goddess to partake the rites. + "Not so (the dame replied), I haste to go + To sacred Ocean, and the floods below: + Even now our solemn hecatombs attend, + And heaven is feasting on the world's green end + With righteous Ethiops (uncorrupted train!) + Far on the extremest limits of the main. + But Peleus' son entreats, with sacrifice, + The western spirit, and the north, to rise! + Let on Patroclus' pile your blast be driven, + And bear the blazing honours high to heaven." + + Swift as the word she vanish'd from their view; + Swift as the word the winds tumultuous flew; + Forth burst the stormy band with thundering roar, + And heaps on heaps the clouds are toss'd before. + To the wide main then stooping from the skies, + The heaving deeps in watery mountains rise: + Troy feels the blast along her shaking walls, + Till on the pile the gather'd tempest falls. + The structure crackles in the roaring fires, + And all the night the plenteous flame aspires. + All night Achilles hails Patroclus' soul, + With large libations from the golden bowl. + As a poor father, helpless and undone, + Mourns o'er the ashes of an only son, + Takes a sad pleasure the last bones to burn, + And pours in tears, ere yet they close the urn: + So stay'd Achilles, circling round the shore, + So watch'd the flames, till now they flame no more. + 'Twas when, emerging through the shades of night. + The morning planet told the approach of light; + And, fast behind, Aurora's warmer ray + O'er the broad ocean pour'd the golden day: + Then sank the blaze, the pile no longer burn'd, + And to their caves the whistling winds return'd: + Across the Thracian seas their course they bore; + The ruffled seas beneath their passage roar. + + Then parting from the pile he ceased to weep, + And sank to quiet in the embrace of sleep, + Exhausted with his grief: meanwhile the crowd + Of thronging Grecians round Achilles stood; + The tumult waked him: from his eyes he shook + Unwilling slumber, and the chiefs bespoke: + + "Ye kings and princes of the Achaian name! + First let us quench the yet remaining flame + With sable wine; then, as the rites direct, + The hero's bones with careful view select: + (Apart, and easy to be known they lie + Amidst the heap, and obvious to the eye: + The rest around the margin will be seen + Promiscuous, steeds and immolated men:) + These wrapp'd in double cauls of fat, prepare; + And in the golden vase dispose with care; + There let them rest with decent honour laid, + Till I shall follow to the infernal shade. + Meantime erect the tomb with pious hands, + A common structure on the humble sands: + Hereafter Greece some nobler work may raise, + And late posterity record our praise!" + + The Greeks obey; where yet the embers glow, + Wide o'er the pile the sable wine they throw, + And deep subsides the ashy heap below. + Next the white bones his sad companions place, + With tears collected, in the golden vase. + The sacred relics to the tent they bore; + The urn a veil of linen covered o'er. + That done, they bid the sepulchre aspire, + And cast the deep foundations round the pyre; + High in the midst they heap the swelling bed + Of rising earth, memorial of the dead. + + The swarming populace the chief detains, + And leads amidst a wide extent of plains; + There placed them round: then from the ships proceeds + A train of oxen, mules, and stately steeds, + Vases and tripods (for the funeral games), + Resplendent brass, and more resplendent dames. + First stood the prizes to reward the force + Of rapid racers in the dusty course: + A woman for the first, in beauty's bloom, + Skill'd in the needle, and the labouring loom; + And a large vase, where two bright handles rise, + Of twenty measures its capacious size. + The second victor claims a mare unbroke, + Big with a mule, unknowing of the yoke: + The third, a charger yet untouch'd by flame; + Four ample measures held the shining frame: + Two golden talents for the fourth were placed: + An ample double bowl contents the last. + These in fair order ranged upon the plain, + The hero, rising, thus address'd the train: + + "Behold the prizes, valiant Greeks! decreed + To the brave rulers of the racing steed; + Prizes which none beside ourself could gain, + Should our immortal coursers take the plain; + (A race unrivall'd, which from ocean's god + Peleus received, and on his son bestow'd.) + But this no time our vigour to display; + Nor suit, with them, the games of this sad day: + Lost is Patroclus now, that wont to deck + Their flowing manes, and sleek their glossy neck. + Sad, as they shared in human grief, they stand, + And trail those graceful honours on the sand! + Let others for the noble task prepare, + Who trust the courser and the flying car." + + Fired at his word the rival racers rise; + But far the first Eumelus hopes the prize, + Famed though Pieria for the fleetest breed, + And skill'd to manage the high-bounding steed. + With equal ardour bold Tydides swell'd, + The steeds of Tros beneath his yoke compell'd + (Which late obey'd the Dardan chiefs command, + When scarce a god redeem'd him from his hand). + Then Menelaus his Podargus brings, + And the famed courser of the king of kings: + Whom rich Echepolus (more rich than brave), + To 'scape the wars, to Agamemnon gave, + (AEthe her name) at home to end his days; + Base wealth preferring to eternal praise. + Next him Antilochus demands the course + With beating heart, and cheers his Pylian horse. + Experienced Nestor gives his son the reins, + Directs his judgment, and his heat restrains; + Nor idly warns the hoary sire, nor hears + The prudent son with unattending ears. + + "My son! though youthful ardour fire thy breast, + The gods have loved thee, and with arts have bless'd; + Neptune and Jove on thee conferr'd the skill + Swift round the goal to turn the flying wheel. + To guide thy conduct little precept needs; + But slow, and past their vigour, are my steeds. + Fear not thy rivals, though for swiftness known; + Compare those rivals' judgment and thy own: + It is not strength, but art, obtains the prize, + And to be swift is less than to be wise. + 'Tis more by art than force of numerous strokes + The dexterous woodman shapes the stubborn oaks; + By art the pilot, through the boiling deep + And howling tempest, steers the fearless ship; + And 'tis the artist wins the glorious course; + Not those who trust in chariots and in horse. + In vain, unskilful to the goal they strive, + And short, or wide, the ungovern'd courser drive: + While with sure skill, though with inferior steeds, + The knowing racer to his end proceeds; + Fix'd on the goal his eye foreruns the course, + His hand unerring steers the steady horse, + And now contracts, or now extends the rein, + Observing still the foremost on the plain. + Mark then the goal, 'tis easy to be found; + Yon aged trunk, a cubit from the ground; + Of some once stately oak the last remains, + Or hardy fir, unperish'd with the rains: + Inclosed with stones, conspicuous from afar; + And round, a circle for the wheeling car. + (Some tomb perhaps of old, the dead to grace; + Or then, as now, the limit of a race.) + Bear close to this, and warily proceed, + A little bending to the left-hand steed; + But urge the right, and give him all the reins; + While thy strict hand his fellow's head restrains, + And turns him short; till, doubling as they roll, + The wheel's round naves appear to brush the goal. + Yet (not to break the car, or lame the horse) + Clear of the stony heap direct the course; + Lest through incaution failing, thou mayst be + A joy to others, a reproach to me. + So shalt thou pass the goal, secure of mind, + And leave unskilful swiftness far behind: + Though thy fierce rival drove the matchless steed + Which bore Adrastus, of celestial breed; + Or the famed race, through all the regions known, + That whirl'd the car of proud Laomedon." + + Thus (nought unsaid) the much-advising sage + Concludes; then sat, stiff with unwieldy age. + Next bold Meriones was seen to rise, + The last, but not least ardent for the prize. + They mount their seats; the lots their place dispose + (Roll'd in his helmet, these Achilles throws). + Young Nestor leads the race: Eumelus then; + And next the brother of the king of men: + Thy lot, Meriones, the fourth was cast; + And, far the bravest, Diomed, was last. + They stand in order, an impatient train: + Pelides points the barrier on the plain, + And sends before old Phoenix to the place, + To mark the racers, and to judge the race. + At once the coursers from the barrier bound; + The lifted scourges all at once resound; + Their heart, their eyes, their voice, they send before; + And up the champaign thunder from the shore: + Thick, where they drive, the dusty clouds arise, + And the lost courser in the whirlwind flies; + Loose on their shoulders the long manes reclined, + Float in their speed, and dance upon the wind: + The smoking chariots, rapid as they bound, + Now seem to touch the sky, and now the ground. + While hot for fame, and conquest all their care, + (Each o'er his flying courser hung in air,) + Erect with ardour, poised upon the rein, + They pant, they stretch, they shout along the plain. + Now (the last compass fetch'd around the goal) + At the near prize each gathers all his soul, + Each burns with double hope, with double pain, + Tears up the shore, and thunders toward the main. + First flew Eumelus on Pheretian steeds; + With those of Tros bold Diomed succeeds: + Close on Eumelus' back they puff the wind, + And seem just mounting on his car behind; + Full on his neck he feels the sultry breeze, + And, hovering o'er, their stretching shadows sees. + Then had he lost, or left a doubtful prize; + But angry Phoebus to Tydides flies, + Strikes from his hand the scourge, and renders vain + His matchless horses' labour on the plain. + Rage fills his eye with anguish, to survey + Snatch'd from his hope the glories of the day. + The fraud celestial Pallas sees with pain, + Springs to her knight, and gives the scourge again, + And fills his steeds with vigour. At a stroke + She breaks his rival's chariot from the yoke: + No more their way the startled horses held; + The car reversed came rattling on the field; + Shot headlong from his seat, beside the wheel, + Prone on the dust the unhappy master fell; + His batter'd face and elbows strike the ground; + Nose, mouth, and front, one undistinguish'd wound: + Grief stops his voice, a torrent drowns his eyes: + Before him far the glad Tydides flies; + Minerva's spirit drives his matchless pace, + And crowns him victor of the labour'd race. + + The next, though distant, Menelaus succeeds; + While thus young Nestor animates his steeds: + "Now, now, my generous pair, exert your force; + Not that we hope to match Tydides' horse, + Since great Minerva wings their rapid way, + And gives their lord the honours of the day; + But reach Atrides! shall his mare outgo + Your swiftness? vanquish'd by a female foe? + Through your neglect, if lagging on the plain + The last ignoble gift be all we gain, + No more shall Nestor's hand your food supply, + The old man's fury rises, and ye die. + Haste then: yon narrow road, before our sight, + Presents the occasion, could we use it right." + + Thus he. The coursers at their master's threat + With quicker steps the sounding champaign beat. + And now Antilochus with nice survey + Observes the compass of the hollow way. + 'Twas where, by force of wintry torrents torn, + Fast by the road a precipice was worn: + Here, where but one could pass, to shun the throng + The Spartan hero's chariot smoked along. + Close up the venturous youth resolves to keep, + Still edging near, and bears him toward the steep. + Atrides, trembling, casts his eye below, + And wonders at the rashness of his foe. + "Hold, stay your steeds--What madness thus to ride + This narrow way! take larger field (he cried), + Or both must fall."--Atrides cried in vain; + He flies more fast, and throws up all the rein. + Far as an able arm the disk can send, + When youthful rivals their full force extend, + So far, Antilochus! thy chariot flew + Before the king: he, cautious, backward drew + His horse compell'd; foreboding in his fears + The rattling ruin of the clashing cars, + The floundering coursers rolling on the plain, + And conquest lost through frantic haste to gain. + But thus upbraids his rival as he flies: + "Go, furious youth! ungenerous and unwise! + Go, but expect not I'll the prize resign; + Add perjury to fraud, and make it thine--" + Then to his steeds with all his force he cries, + "Be swift, be vigorous, and regain the prize! + Your rivals, destitute of youthful force, + With fainting knees shall labour in the course, + And yield the glory yours."--The steeds obey; + Already at their heels they wing their way, + And seem already to retrieve the day. + + Meantime the Grecians in a ring beheld + The coursers bounding o'er the dusty field. + The first who mark'd them was the Cretan king; + High on a rising ground, above the ring, + The monarch sat: from whence with sure survey + He well observed the chief who led the way, + And heard from far his animating cries, + And saw the foremost steed with sharpen'd eyes; + On whose broad front a blaze of shining white, + Like the full moon, stood obvious to the sight. + He saw; and rising, to the Greeks begun: + "Are yonder horse discern'd by me alone? + Or can ye, all, another chief survey, + And other steeds than lately led the way? + Those, though the swiftest, by some god withheld, + Lie sure disabled in the middle field: + For, since the goal they doubled, round the plain + I search to find them, but I search in vain. + Perchance the reins forsook the driver's hand, + And, turn'd too short, he tumbled on the strand, + Shot from the chariot; while his coursers stray + With frantic fury from the destined way. + Rise then some other, and inform my sight, + For these dim eyes, perhaps, discern not right; + Yet sure he seems, to judge by shape and air, + The great AEtolian chief, renown'd in war." + + "Old man! (Oileus rashly thus replies) + Thy tongue too hastily confers the prize; + Of those who view the course, nor sharpest eyed, + Nor youngest, yet the readiest to decide. + Eumelus' steeds, high bounding in the chase, + Still, as at first, unrivall'd lead the race: + I well discern him, as he shakes the rein, + And hear his shouts victorious o'er the plain." + + Thus he. Idomeneus, incensed, rejoin'd: + "Barbarous of words! and arrogant of mind! + Contentious prince, of all the Greeks beside + The last in merit, as the first in pride! + To vile reproach what answer can we make? + A goblet or a tripod let us stake, + And be the king the judge. The most unwise + Will learn their rashness, when they pay the price." + + He said: and Ajax, by mad passion borne, + Stern had replied; fierce scorn enhancing scorn + To fell extremes. But Thetis' godlike son + Awful amidst them rose, and thus begun: + + "Forbear, ye chiefs! reproachful to contend; + Much would ye blame, should others thus offend: + And lo! the approaching steeds your contest end." + No sooner had he spoke, but thundering near, + Drives, through a stream of dust, the charioteer. + High o'er his head the circling lash he wields: + His bounding horses scarcely touch the fields: + His car amidst the dusty whirlwind roll'd, + Bright with the mingled blaze of tin and gold, + Refulgent through the cloud: no eye could find + The track his flying wheels had left behind: + And the fierce coursers urged their rapid pace + So swift, it seem'd a flight, and not a race. + Now victor at the goal Tydides stands, + Quits his bright car, and springs upon the sands; + From the hot steeds the sweaty torrents stream; + The well-plied whip is hung athwart the beam: + With joy brave Sthenelus receives the prize, + The tripod-vase, and dame with radiant eyes: + These to the ships his train triumphant leads, + The chief himself unyokes the panting steeds. + + Young Nestor follows (who by art, not force, + O'erpass'd Atrides) second in the course. + Behind, Atrides urged the race, more near + Than to the courser in his swift career + The following car, just touching with his heel + And brushing with his tail the whirling wheel: + Such, and so narrow now the space between + The rivals, late so distant on the green; + So soon swift AEthe her lost ground regain'd, + One length, one moment, had the race obtain'd. + + Merion pursued, at greater distance still, + With tardier coursers, and inferior skill. + Last came, Admetus! thy unhappy son; + Slow dragged the steeds his batter'd chariot on: + Achilles saw, and pitying thus begun: + + "Behold! the man whose matchless art surpass'd + The sons of Greece! the ablest, yet the last! + Fortune denies, but justice bids us pay + (Since great Tydides bears the first away) + To him the second honours of the day." + + The Greeks consent with loud-applauding cries, + And then Eumelus had received the prize, + But youthful Nestor, jealous of his fame, + The award opposes, and asserts his claim. + "Think not (he cries) I tamely will resign, + O Peleus' son! the mare so justly mine. + What if the gods, the skilful to confound, + Have thrown the horse and horseman to the ground? + Perhaps he sought not heaven by sacrifice, + And vows omitted forfeited the prize. + If yet (distinction to thy friend to show, + And please a soul desirous to bestow) + Some gift must grace Eumelus, view thy store + Of beauteous handmaids, steeds, and shining ore; + An ample present let him thence receive, + And Greece shall praise thy generous thirst to give. + But this my prize I never shall forego; + This, who but touches, warriors! is my foe." + + Thus spake the youth; nor did his words offend; + Pleased with the well-turn'd flattery of a friend, + Achilles smiled: "The gift proposed (he cried), + Antilochus! we shall ourself provide. + With plates of brass the corslet cover'd o'er, + (The same renown'd Asteropaeus wore,) + Whose glittering margins raised with silver shine, + (No vulgar gift,) Eumelus! shall be thine." + + He said: Automedon at his command + The corslet brought, and gave it to his hand. + Distinguish'd by his friend, his bosom glows + With generous joy: then Menelaus rose; + The herald placed the sceptre in his hands, + And still'd the clamour of the shouting bands. + Not without cause incensed at Nestor's son, + And inly grieving, thus the king begun: + + "The praise of wisdom, in thy youth obtain'd, + An act so rash, Antilochus! has stain'd. + Robb'd of my glory and my just reward, + To you, O Grecians! be my wrong declared: + So not a leader shall our conduct blame, + Or judge me envious of a rival's fame. + But shall not we, ourselves, the truth maintain? + What needs appealing in a fact so plain? + What Greek shall blame me, if I bid thee rise, + And vindicate by oath th' ill-gotten prize? + Rise if thou darest, before thy chariot stand, + The driving scourge high-lifted in thy hand; + And touch thy steeds, and swear thy whole intent + Was but to conquer, not to circumvent. + Swear by that god whose liquid arms surround + The globe, and whose dread earthquakes heave the ground!" + + The prudent chief with calm attention heard; + Then mildly thus: "Excuse, if youth have err'd; + Superior as thou art, forgive the offence, + Nor I thy equal, or in years, or sense. + Thou know'st the errors of unripen'd age, + Weak are its counsels, headlong is its rage. + The prize I quit, if thou thy wrath resign; + The mare, or aught thou ask'st, be freely thine + Ere I become (from thy dear friendship torn) + Hateful to thee, and to the gods forsworn." + + So spoke Antilochus; and at the word + The mare contested to the king restored. + Joy swells his soul: as when the vernal grain + Lifts the green ear above the springing plain, + The fields their vegetable life renew, + And laugh and glitter with the morning dew; + Such joy the Spartan's shining face o'erspread, + And lifted his gay heart, while thus he said: + + "Still may our souls, O generous youth! agree + 'Tis now Atrides' turn to yield to thee. + Rash heat perhaps a moment might control, + Not break, the settled temper of thy soul. + Not but (my friend) 'tis still the wiser way + To waive contention with superior sway; + For ah! how few, who should like thee offend, + Like thee, have talents to regain the friend! + To plead indulgence, and thy fault atone, + Suffice thy father's merit and thy own: + Generous alike, for me, the sire and son + Have greatly suffer'd, and have greatly done. + I yield; that all may know, my soul can bend, + Nor is my pride preferr'd before my friend." + + He said; and pleased his passion to command, + Resign'd the courser to Noemon's hand, + Friend of the youthful chief: himself content, + The shining charger to his vessel sent. + The golden talents Merion next obtain'd; + The fifth reward, the double bowl, remain'd. + Achilles this to reverend Nestor bears. + And thus the purpose of his gift declares: + "Accept thou this, O sacred sire! (he said) + In dear memorial of Patroclus dead; + Dead and for ever lost Patroclus lies, + For ever snatch'd from our desiring eyes! + Take thou this token of a grateful heart, + Though 'tis not thine to hurl the distant dart, + The quoit to toss, the ponderous mace to wield, + Or urge the race, or wrestle on the field: + Thy pristine vigour age has overthrown, + But left the glory of the past thy own." + + He said, and placed the goblet at his side; + With joy the venerable king replied: + + "Wisely and well, my son, thy words have proved + A senior honour'd, and a friend beloved! + Too true it is, deserted of my strength, + These wither'd arms and limbs have fail'd at length. + Oh! had I now that force I felt of yore, + Known through Buprasium and the Pylian shore! + Victorious then in every solemn game, + Ordain'd to Amarynces' mighty name; + The brave Epeians gave my glory way, + AEtolians, Pylians, all resign'd the day. + I quell'd Clytomedes in fights of hand, + And backward hurl'd Ancaeus on the sand, + Surpass'd Iphyclus in the swift career, + Phyleus and Polydorus with the spear. + The sons of Actor won the prize of horse, + But won by numbers, not by art or force: + For the famed twins, impatient to survey + Prize after prize by Nestor borne away, + Sprung to their car; and with united pains + One lash'd the coursers, while one ruled the reins. + Such once I was! Now to these tasks succeeds + A younger race, that emulate our deeds: + I yield, alas! (to age who must not yield?) + Though once the foremost hero of the field. + Go thou, my son! by generous friendship led, + With martial honours decorate the dead: + While pleased I take the gift thy hands present, + (Pledge of benevolence, and kind intent,) + Rejoiced, of all the numerous Greeks, to see + Not one but honours sacred age and me: + Those due distinctions thou so well canst pay, + May the just gods return another day!" + + Proud of the gift, thus spake the full of days: + Achilles heard him, prouder of the praise. + + The prizes next are order'd to the field, + For the bold champions who the caestus wield. + A stately mule, as yet by toils unbroke, + Of six years' age, unconscious of the yoke, + Is to the circus led, and firmly bound; + Next stands a goblet, massy, large, and round. + Achilles rising, thus: "Let Greece excite + Two heroes equal to this hardy fight; + Who dare the foe with lifted arms provoke, + And rush beneath the long-descending stroke. + On whom Apollo shall the palm bestow, + And whom the Greeks supreme by conquest know, + This mule his dauntless labours shall repay, + The vanquish'd bear the massy bowl away." + + This dreadful combat great Epeus chose;(291) + High o'er the crowd, enormous bulk! he rose, + And seized the beast, and thus began to say: + "Stand forth some man, to bear the bowl away! + (Price of his ruin: for who dares deny + This mule my right; the undoubted victor I) + Others, 'tis own'd, in fields of battle shine, + But the first honours of this fight are mine; + For who excels in all? Then let my foe + Draw near, but first his certain fortune know; + Secure this hand shall his whole frame confound, + Mash all his bones, and all his body pound: + So let his friends be nigh, a needful train, + To heave the batter'd carcase off the plain." + + The giant spoke; and in a stupid gaze + The host beheld him, silent with amaze! + 'Twas thou, Euryalus! who durst aspire + To meet his might, and emulate thy sire, + The great Mecistheus; who in days of yore + In Theban games the noblest trophy bore, + (The games ordain'd dead OEdipus to grace,) + And singly vanquish the Cadmean race. + Him great Tydides urges to contend, + Warm with the hopes of conquest for his friend; + Officious with the cincture girds him round; + And to his wrist the gloves of death are bound. + Amid the circle now each champion stands, + And poises high in air his iron hands; + With clashing gauntlets now they fiercely close, + Their crackling jaws re-echo to the blows, + And painful sweat from all their members flows. + At length Epeus dealt a weighty blow + Full on the cheek of his unwary foe; + Beneath that ponderous arm's resistless sway + Down dropp'd he, nerveless, and extended lay. + As a large fish, when winds and waters roar, + By some huge billow dash'd against the shore, + Lies panting; not less batter'd with his wound, + The bleeding hero pants upon the ground. + To rear his fallen foe, the victor lends, + Scornful, his hand; and gives him to his friends; + Whose arms support him, reeling through the throng, + And dragging his disabled legs along; + Nodding, his head hangs down his shoulder o'er; + His mouth and nostrils pour the clotted gore;(292) + Wrapp'd round in mists he lies, and lost to thought; + His friends receive the bowl, too dearly bought. + + The third bold game Achilles next demands, + And calls the wrestlers to the level sands: + A massy tripod for the victor lies, + Of twice six oxen its reputed price; + And next, the loser's spirits to restore, + A female captive, valued but at four. + Scarce did the chief the vigorous strife prop + When tower-like Ajax and Ulysses rose. + Amid the ring each nervous rival stands, + Embracing rigid with implicit hands. + Close lock'd above, their heads and arms are mix'd: + Below, their planted feet at distance fix'd; + Like two strong rafters which the builder forms, + Proof to the wintry winds and howling storms, + Their tops connected, but at wider space + Fix'd on the centre stands their solid base. + Now to the grasp each manly body bends; + The humid sweat from every pore descends; + Their bones resound with blows: sides, shoulders, thighs + Swell to each gripe, and bloody tumours rise. + Nor could Ulysses, for his art renown'd, + O'erturn the strength of Ajax on the ground; + Nor could the strength of Ajax overthrow + The watchful caution of his artful foe. + While the long strife even tired the lookers on, + Thus to Ulysses spoke great Telamon: + "Or let me lift thee, chief, or lift thou me: + Prove we our force, and Jove the rest decree." + + He said; and, straining, heaved him off the ground + With matchless strength; that time Ulysses found + The strength to evade, and where the nerves combine + His ankle struck: the giant fell supine; + Ulysses, following, on his bosom lies; + Shouts of applause run rattling through the skies. + Ajax to lift Ulysses next essays; + He barely stirr'd him, but he could not raise: + His knee lock'd fast, the foe's attempt denied; + And grappling close, they tumbled side by side. + Defiled with honourable dust they roll, + Still breathing strife, and unsubdued of soul: + Again they rage, again to combat rise; + When great Achilles thus divides the prize: + + "Your noble vigour, O my friends, restrain; + Nor weary out your generous strength in vain. + Ye both have won: let others who excel, + Now prove that prowess you have proved so well." + + The hero's words the willing chiefs obey, + From their tired bodies wipe the dust away, + And, clothed anew, the following games survey. + + And now succeed the gifts ordain'd to grace + The youths contending in the rapid race: + A silver urn that full six measures held, + By none in weight or workmanship excell'd: + Sidonian artists taught the frame to shine, + Elaborate, with artifice divine; + Whence Tyrian sailors did the prize transport, + And gave to Thoas at the Lemnian port: + From him descended, good Eunaeus heir'd + The glorious gift; and, for Lycaon spared, + To brave Patroclus gave the rich reward: + Now, the same hero's funeral rites to grace, + It stands the prize of swiftness in the race. + A well-fed ox was for the second placed; + And half a talent must content the last. + Achilles rising then bespoke the train: + "Who hope the palm of swiftness to obtain, + Stand forth, and bear these prizes from the plain." + + The hero said, and starting from his place, + Oilean Ajax rises to the race; + Ulysses next; and he whose speed surpass'd + His youthful equals, Nestor's son, the last. + Ranged in a line the ready racers stand; + Pelides points the barrier with his hand; + All start at once; Oileus led the race; + The next Ulysses, measuring pace with pace; + Behind him, diligently close, he sped, + As closely following as the running thread + The spindle follows, and displays the charms + Of the fair spinster's breast and moving arms: + Graceful in motion thus, his foe he plies, + And treads each footstep ere the dust can rise; + His glowing breath upon his shoulders plays: + The admiring Greeks loud acclamations raise: + To him they give their wishes, hearts, and eyes, + And send their souls before him as he flies. + Now three times turn'd in prospect of the goal, + The panting chief to Pallas lifts his soul: + "Assist, O goddess!" thus in thought he pray'd! + And present at his thought descends the maid. + Buoy'd by her heavenly force, he seems to swim, + And feels a pinion lifting every limb. + All fierce, and ready now the prize to gain, + Unhappy Ajax stumbles on the plain + (O'erturn'd by Pallas), where the slippery shore + Was clogg'd with slimy dung and mingled gore. + (The self-same place beside Patroclus' pyre, + Where late the slaughter'd victims fed the fire.) + Besmear'd with filth, and blotted o'er with clay, + Obscene to sight, the rueful racer lay; + The well-fed bull (the second prize) he shared, + And left the urn Ulysses' rich reward. + Then, grasping by the horn the mighty beast, + The baffled hero thus the Greeks address'd: + + "Accursed fate! the conquest I forego; + A mortal I, a goddess was my foe; + She urged her favourite on the rapid way, + And Pallas, not Ulysses, won the day." + + Thus sourly wail'd he, sputtering dirt and gore; + A burst of laughter echoed through the shore. + Antilochus, more humorous than the rest, + Takes the last prize, and takes it with a jest: + + "Why with our wiser elders should we strive? + The gods still love them, and they always thrive. + Ye see, to Ajax I must yield the prize: + He to Ulysses, still more aged and wise; + (A green old age unconscious of decays, + That proves the hero born in better days!) + Behold his vigour in this active race! + Achilles only boasts a swifter pace: + For who can match Achilles? He who can, + Must yet be more than hero, more than man." + + The effect succeeds the speech. Pelides cries, + "Thy artful praise deserves a better prize. + Nor Greece in vain shall hear thy friend extoll'd; + Receive a talent of the purest gold." + The youth departs content. The host admire + The son of Nestor, worthy of his sire. + + Next these a buckler, spear, and helm, he brings; + Cast on the plain, the brazen burden rings: + Arms which of late divine Sarpedon wore, + And great Patroclus in short triumph bore. + "Stand forth the bravest of our host! (he cries) + Whoever dares deserve so rich a prize, + Now grace the lists before our army's sight, + And sheathed in steel, provoke his foe to fight. + Who first the jointed armour shall explore, + And stain his rival's mail with issuing gore, + The sword Asteropaeus possess'd of old, + (A Thracian blade, distinct with studs of gold,) + Shall pay the stroke, and grace the striker's side: + These arms in common let the chiefs divide: + For each brave champion, when the combat ends, + A sumptuous banquet at our tents attends." + + Fierce at the word uprose great Tydeus' son, + And the huge bulk of Ajax Telamon. + Clad in refulgent steel, on either hand, + The dreadful chiefs amid the circle stand; + Louring they meet, tremendous to the sight; + Each Argive bosom beats with fierce delight. + Opposed in arms not long they idly stood, + But thrice they closed, and thrice the charge renew'd. + A furious pass the spear of Ajax made + Through the broad shield, but at the corslet stay'd. + Not thus the foe: his javelin aim'd above + The buckler's margin, at the neck he drove. + But Greece, now trembling for her hero's life, + Bade share the honours, and surcease the strife. + Yet still the victor's due Tydides gains, + With him the sword and studded belt remains. + + Then hurl'd the hero, thundering on the ground, + A mass of iron (an enormous round), + Whose weight and size the circling Greeks admire, + Rude from the furnace, and but shaped by fire. + This mighty quoit Aetion wont to rear, + And from his whirling arm dismiss in air; + The giant by Achilles slain, he stow'd + Among his spoils this memorable load. + For this, he bids those nervous artists vie, + That teach the disk to sound along the sky. + "Let him, whose might can hurl this bowl, arise; + Who farthest hurls it, take it as his prize; + If he be one enrich'd with large domain + Of downs for flocks, and arable for grain, + Small stock of iron needs that man provide; + His hinds and swains whole years shall be supplied + From hence; nor ask the neighbouring city's aid + For ploughshares, wheels, and all the rural trade." + + Stern Polypoetes stepp'd before the throng, + And great Leonteus, more than mortal strong; + Whose force with rival forces to oppose, + Uprose great Ajax; up Epeus rose. + Each stood in order: first Epeus threw; + High o'er the wondering crowds the whirling circle flew. + Leonteus next a little space surpass'd; + And third, the strength of godlike Ajax cast. + O'er both their marks it flew; till fiercely flung + From Polypoetes' arm the discus sung: + Far as a swain his whirling sheephook throws, + That distant falls among the grazing cows, + So past them all the rapid circle flies: + His friends, while loud applauses shake the skies, + With force conjoin'd heave off the weighty prize. + + Those, who in skilful archery contend, + He next invites the twanging bow to bend; + And twice ten axes casts amidst the round, + Ten double-edged, and ten that singly wound + The mast, which late a first-rate galley bore, + The hero fixes in the sandy shore; + To the tall top a milk-white dove they tie, + The trembling mark at which their arrows fly. + + "Whose weapon strikes yon fluttering bird, shall bear + These two-edged axes, terrible in war; + The single, he whose shaft divides the cord." + He said: experienced Merion took the word; + And skilful Teucer: in the helm they threw + Their lots inscribed, and forth the latter flew. + Swift from the string the sounding arrow flies; + But flies unbless'd! No grateful sacrifice, + No firstling lambs, unheedful! didst thou vow + To Phoebus, patron of the shaft and bow. + For this, thy well-aim'd arrow turn'd aside, + Err'd from the dove, yet cut the cord that tied: + Adown the mainmast fell the parted string, + And the free bird to heaven displays her wing: + Sea, shores, and skies, with loud applause resound, + And Merion eager meditates the wound: + He takes the bow, directs the shaft above, + And following with his eye the soaring dove, + Implores the god to speed it through the skies, + With vows of firstling lambs, and grateful sacrific + The dove, in airy circles as she wheels, + Amid the clouds the piercing arrow feels; + Quite through and through the point its passage found, + And at his feet fell bloody to the ground. + The wounded bird, ere yet she breathed her last, + With flagging wings alighted on the mast, + A moment hung, and spread her pinions there, + Then sudden dropp'd, and left her life in air. + From the pleased crowd new peals of thunder rise, + And to the ships brave Merion bears the prize. + + To close the funeral games, Achilles last + A massy spear amid the circle placed, + And ample charger of unsullied frame, + With flowers high-wrought, not blacken'd yet by flame. + For these he bids the heroes prove their art, + Whose dexterous skill directs the flying dart. + Here too great Merion hopes the noble prize; + Nor here disdain'd the king of men to rise. + With joy Pelides saw the honour paid, + Rose to the monarch, and respectful said: + + "Thee first in virtue, as in power supreme, + O king of nations! all thy Greeks proclaim; + In every martial game thy worth attest, + And know thee both their greatest and their best. + Take then the prize, but let brave Merion bear + This beamy javelin in thy brother's war." + + Pleased from the hero's lips his praise to hear, + The king to Merion gives the brazen spear: + But, set apart for sacred use, commands + The glittering charger to Talthybius' hands. + + [Illustration: CERES.] + + CERES. + + + + + +BOOK XXIV. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE REDEMPTION OF THE BODY OF HECTOR. + +The gods deliberate about the redemption of Hector's body. Jupiter sends +Thetis to Achilles, to dispose him for the restoring it, and Iris to +Priam, to encourage him to go in person and treat for it. The old king, +notwithstanding the remonstrances of his queen, makes ready for the +journey, to which he is encouraged by an omen from Jupiter. He sets forth +in his chariot, with a waggon loaded with presents, under the charge of +Idaeus the herald. Mercury descends in the shape of a young man, and +conducts him to the pavilion of Achilles. Their conversation on the way. +Priam finds Achilles at his table, casts himself at his feet, and begs for +the body of his son: Achilles, moved with compassion, grants his request, +detains him one night in his tent, and the next morning sends him home +with the body: the Trojans run out to meet him. The lamentations of +Andromache, Hecuba, and Helen, with the solemnities of the funeral. + +The time of twelve days is employed in this book, while the body of Hector +lies in the tent of Achilles; and as many more are spent in the truce +allowed for his interment. The scene is partly in Achilles' camp, and +partly in Troy. + + Now from the finish'd games the Grecian band + Seek their black ships, and clear the crowded strand, + All stretch'd at ease the genial banquet share, + And pleasing slumbers quiet all their care. + Not so Achilles: he, to grief resign'd, + His friend's dear image present to his mind, + Takes his sad couch, more unobserved to weep; + Nor tastes the gifts of all-composing sleep. + Restless he roll'd around his weary bed, + And all his soul on his Patroclus fed: + The form so pleasing, and the heart so kind, + That youthful vigour, and that manly mind, + What toils they shared, what martial works they wrought, + What seas they measured, and what fields they fought; + All pass'd before him in remembrance dear, + Thought follows thought, and tear succeeds to tear. + And now supine, now prone, the hero lay, + Now shifts his side, impatient for the day: + Then starting up, disconsolate he goes + Wide on the lonely beach to vent his woes. + There as the solitary mourner raves, + The ruddy morning rises o'er the waves: + Soon as it rose, his furious steeds he join'd! + The chariot flies, and Hector trails behind. + And thrice, Patroclus! round thy monument + Was Hector dragg'd, then hurried to the tent. + There sleep at last o'ercomes the hero's eyes; + While foul in dust the unhonour'd carcase lies, + But not deserted by the pitying skies: + For Phoebus watch'd it with superior care, + Preserved from gaping wounds and tainting air; + And, ignominious as it swept the field, + Spread o'er the sacred corse his golden shield. + All heaven was moved, and Hermes will'd to go + By stealth to snatch him from the insulting foe: + But Neptune this, and Pallas this denies, + And th' unrelenting empress of the skies, + E'er since that day implacable to Troy, + What time young Paris, simple shepherd boy, + Won by destructive lust (reward obscene), + Their charms rejected for the Cyprian queen. + But when the tenth celestial morning broke, + To heaven assembled, thus Apollo spoke: + + [Illustration: HECTOR'S BODY AT THE CAR OF ACHILLES.] + + HECTOR'S BODY AT THE CAR OF ACHILLES. + + + "Unpitying powers! how oft each holy fane + Has Hector tinged with blood of victims slain? + And can ye still his cold remains pursue? + Still grudge his body to the Trojans' view? + Deny to consort, mother, son, and sire, + The last sad honours of a funeral fire? + Is then the dire Achilles all your care? + That iron heart, inflexibly severe; + A lion, not a man, who slaughters wide, + In strength of rage, and impotence of pride; + Who hastes to murder with a savage joy, + Invades around, and breathes but to destroy! + Shame is not of his soul; nor understood, + The greatest evil and the greatest good. + Still for one loss he rages unresign'd, + Repugnant to the lot of all mankind; + To lose a friend, a brother, or a son, + Heaven dooms each mortal, and its will is done: + Awhile they sorrow, then dismiss their care; + Fate gives the wound, and man is born to bear. + But this insatiate, the commission given + By fate exceeds, and tempts the wrath of heaven: + Lo, how his rage dishonest drags along + Hector's dead earth, insensible of wrong! + Brave though he be, yet by no reason awed, + He violates the laws of man and god." + + [Illustration: THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS.] + + THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS. + + + "If equal honours by the partial skies + Are doom'd both heroes, (Juno thus replies,) + If Thetis' son must no distinction know, + Then hear, ye gods! the patron of the bow. + But Hector only boasts a mortal claim, + His birth deriving from a mortal dame: + Achilles, of your own ethereal race, + Springs from a goddess by a man's embrace + (A goddess by ourself to Peleus given, + A man divine, and chosen friend of heaven) + To grace those nuptials, from the bright abode + Yourselves were present; where this minstrel-god, + Well pleased to share the feast, amid the quire + Stood proud to hymn, and tune his youthful lyre." + + Then thus the Thunderer checks the imperial dame: + "Let not thy wrath the court of heaven inflame; + Their merits, nor their honours, are the same. + But mine, and every god's peculiar grace + Hector deserves, of all the Trojan race: + Still on our shrines his grateful offerings lay, + (The only honours men to gods can pay,) + Nor ever from our smoking altar ceased + The pure libation, and the holy feast: + Howe'er by stealth to snatch the corse away, + We will not: Thetis guards it night and day. + But haste, and summon to our courts above + The azure queen; let her persuasion move + Her furious son from Priam to receive + The proffer'd ransom, and the corse to leave." + + He added not: and Iris from the skies, + Swift as a whirlwind, on the message flies, + Meteorous the face of ocean sweeps, + Refulgent gliding o'er the sable deeps. + Between where Samos wide his forests spreads, + And rocky Imbrus lifts its pointed heads, + Down plunged the maid; (the parted waves resound;) + She plunged and instant shot the dark profound. + As bearing death in the fallacious bait, + From the bent angle sinks the leaden weight; + So pass'd the goddess through the closing wave, + Where Thetis sorrow'd in her secret cave: + There placed amidst her melancholy train + (The blue-hair'd sisters of the sacred main) + Pensive she sat, revolving fates to come, + And wept her godlike son's approaching doom. + Then thus the goddess of the painted bow: + "Arise, O Thetis! from thy seats below, + 'Tis Jove that calls."--"And why (the dame replies) + Calls Jove his Thetis to the hated skies? + Sad object as I am for heavenly sight! + Ah may my sorrows ever shun the light! + Howe'er, be heaven's almighty sire obey'd--" + She spake, and veil'd her head in sable shade, + Which, flowing long, her graceful person clad; + And forth she paced, majestically sad. + + Then through the world of waters they repair + (The way fair Iris led) to upper air. + The deeps dividing, o'er the coast they rise, + And touch with momentary flight the skies. + There in the lightning's blaze the sire they found, + And all the gods in shining synod round. + Thetis approach'd with anguish in her face, + (Minerva rising, gave the mourner place,) + Even Juno sought her sorrows to console, + And offer'd from her hand the nectar-bowl: + She tasted, and resign'd it: then began + The sacred sire of gods and mortal man: + + "Thou comest, fair Thetis, but with grief o'ercast; + Maternal sorrows; long, ah, long to last! + Suffice, we know and we partake thy cares; + But yield to fate, and hear what Jove declares + Nine days are past since all the court above + In Hector's cause have moved the ear of Jove; + 'Twas voted, Hermes from his godlike foe + By stealth should bear him, but we will'd not so: + We will, thy son himself the corse restore, + And to his conquest add this glory more. + Then hie thee to him, and our mandate bear: + Tell him he tempts the wrath of heaven too far; + Nor let him more (our anger if he dread) + Vent his mad vengeance on the sacred dead; + But yield to ransom and the father's prayer; + The mournful father, Iris shall prepare + With gifts to sue; and offer to his hands + Whate'er his honour asks, or heart demands." + + His word the silver-footed queen attends, + And from Olympus' snowy tops descends. + Arrived, she heard the voice of loud lament, + And echoing groans that shook the lofty tent: + His friends prepare the victim, and dispose + Repast unheeded, while he vents his woes; + The goddess seats her by her pensive son, + She press'd his hand, and tender thus begun: + + "How long, unhappy! shall thy sorrows flow, + And thy heart waste with life-consuming woe: + Mindless of food, or love, whose pleasing reign + Soothes weary life, and softens human pain? + O snatch the moments yet within thy power; + Not long to live, indulge the amorous hour! + Lo! Jove himself (for Jove's command I bear) + Forbids to tempt the wrath of heaven too far. + No longer then (his fury if thou dread) + Detain the relics of great Hector dead; + Nor vent on senseless earth thy vengeance vain, + But yield to ransom, and restore the slain." + + To whom Achilles: "Be the ransom given, + And we submit, since such the will of heaven." + + While thus they communed, from the Olympian bowers + Jove orders Iris to the Trojan towers: + "Haste, winged goddess! to the sacred town, + And urge her monarch to redeem his son. + Alone the Ilian ramparts let him leave, + And bear what stern Achilles may receive: + Alone, for so we will; no Trojan near + Except, to place the dead with decent care, + Some aged herald, who with gentle hand + May the slow mules and funeral car command. + Nor let him death, nor let him danger dread, + Safe through the foe by our protection led: + Him Hermes to Achilles shall convey, + Guard of his life, and partner of his way. + Fierce as he is, Achilles' self shall spare + His age, nor touch one venerable hair: + Some thought there must be in a soul so brave, + Some sense of duty, some desire to save." + + [Illustration: IRIS ADVISES PRIAM TO OBTAIN THE BODY OF HECTOR.] + + IRIS ADVISES PRIAM TO OBTAIN THE BODY OF HECTOR. + + + Then down her bow the winged Iris drives, + And swift at Priam's mournful court arrives: + Where the sad sons beside their father's throne + Sat bathed in tears, and answer'd groan with groan. + And all amidst them lay the hoary sire, + (Sad scene of woe!) his face his wrapp'd attire + Conceal'd from sight; with frantic hands he spread + A shower of ashes o'er his neck and head. + From room to room his pensive daughters roam; + Whose shrieks and clamours fill the vaulted dome; + Mindful of those, who late their pride and joy, + Lie pale and breathless round the fields of Troy! + Before the king Jove's messenger appears, + And thus in whispers greets his trembling ears: + + "Fear not, O father! no ill news I bear; + From Jove I come, Jove makes thee still his care; + For Hector's sake these walls he bids thee leave, + And bear what stern Achilles may receive; + Alone, for so he wills; no Trojan near, + Except, to place the dead with decent care, + Some aged herald, who with gentle hand + May the slow mules and funeral car command. + Nor shalt thou death, nor shall thou danger dread: + Safe through the foe by his protection led: + Thee Hermes to Pelides shall convey, + Guard of thy life, and partner of thy way. + Fierce as he is, Achilles' self shall spare + Thy age, nor touch one venerable hair; + Some thought there must be in a soul so brave, + Some sense of duty, some desire to save." + + She spoke, and vanish'd. Priam bids prepare + His gentle mules and harness to the car; + There, for the gifts, a polish'd casket lay: + His pious sons the king's command obey. + Then pass'd the monarch to his bridal-room, + Where cedar-beams the lofty roofs perfume, + And where the treasures of his empire lay; + Then call'd his queen, and thus began to say: + + "Unhappy consort of a king distress'd! + Partake the troubles of thy husband's breast: + I saw descend the messenger of Jove, + Who bids me try Achilles' mind to move; + Forsake these ramparts, and with gifts obtain + The corse of Hector, at yon navy slain. + Tell me thy thought: my heart impels to go + Through hostile camps, and bears me to the foe." + + The hoary monarch thus. Her piercing cries + Sad Hecuba renews, and then replies: + "Ah! whither wanders thy distemper'd mind? + And where the prudence now that awed mankind? + Through Phrygia once and foreign regions known; + Now all confused, distracted, overthrown! + Singly to pass through hosts of foes! to face + (O heart of steel!) the murderer of thy race! + To view that deathful eye, and wander o'er + Those hands yet red with Hector's noble gore! + Alas! my lord! he knows not how to spare. + And what his mercy, thy slain sons declare; + So brave! so many fallen! To claim his rage + Vain were thy dignity, and vain thy age. + No--pent in this sad palace, let us give + To grief the wretched days we have to live. + Still, still for Hector let our sorrows flow, + Born to his own, and to his parents' woe! + Doom'd from the hour his luckless life begun, + To dogs, to vultures, and to Peleus' son! + Oh! in his dearest blood might I allay + My rage, and these barbarities repay! + For ah! could Hector merit thus, whose breath + Expired not meanly, in unactive death? + He poured his latest blood in manly fight, + And fell a hero in his country's right." + + "Seek not to stay me, nor my soul affright + With words of omen, like a bird of night, + (Replied unmoved the venerable man;) + 'Tis heaven commands me, and you urge in vain. + Had any mortal voice the injunction laid, + Nor augur, priest, nor seer, had been obey'd. + A present goddess brought the high command, + I saw, I heard her, and the word shall stand. + I go, ye gods! obedient to your call: + If in yon camp your powers have doom'd my fall, + Content--By the same hand let me expire! + Add to the slaughter'd son the wretched sire! + One cold embrace at least may be allow'd, + And my last tears flow mingled with his blood!" + + From forth his open'd stores, this said, he drew + Twelve costly carpets of refulgent hue, + As many vests, as many mantles told, + And twelve fair veils, and garments stiff with gold, + Two tripods next, and twice two chargers shine, + With ten pure talents from the richest mine; + And last a large well-labour'd bowl had place, + (The pledge of treaties once with friendly Thrace:) + Seem'd all too mean the stores he could employ, + For one last look to buy him back to Troy! + + Lo! the sad father, frantic with his pain, + Around him furious drives his menial train: + In vain each slave with duteous care attends, + Each office hurts him, and each face offends. + "What make ye here, officious crowds! (he cries). + Hence! nor obtrude your anguish on my eyes. + Have ye no griefs at home, to fix ye there: + Am I the only object of despair? + Am I become my people's common show, + Set up by Jove your spectacle of woe? + No, you must feel him too; yourselves must fall; + The same stern god to ruin gives you all: + Nor is great Hector lost by me alone; + Your sole defence, your guardian power is gone! + I see your blood the fields of Phrygia drown, + I see the ruins of your smoking town! + O send me, gods! ere that sad day shall come, + A willing ghost to Pluto's dreary dome!" + + He said, and feebly drives his friends away: + The sorrowing friends his frantic rage obey. + Next on his sons his erring fury falls, + Polites, Paris, Agathon, he calls; + His threats Deiphobus and Dius hear, + Hippothous, Pammon, Helenes the seer, + And generous Antiphon: for yet these nine + Survived, sad relics of his numerous line. + + "Inglorious sons of an unhappy sire! + Why did not all in Hector's cause expire? + Wretch that I am! my bravest offspring slain. + You, the disgrace of Priam's house, remain! + Mestor the brave, renown'd in ranks of war, + With Troilus, dreadful on his rushing car,(293) + And last great Hector, more than man divine, + For sure he seem'd not of terrestrial line! + All those relentless Mars untimely slew, + And left me these, a soft and servile crew, + Whose days the feast and wanton dance employ, + Gluttons and flatterers, the contempt of Troy! + Why teach ye not my rapid wheels to run, + And speed my journey to redeem my son?" + + The sons their father's wretched age revere, + Forgive his anger, and produce the car. + High on the seat the cabinet they bind: + The new-made car with solid beauty shined; + Box was the yoke, emboss'd with costly pains, + And hung with ringlets to receive the reins; + Nine cubits long, the traces swept the ground: + These to the chariot's polish'd pole they bound. + Then fix'd a ring the running reins to guide, + And close beneath the gather'd ends were tied. + Next with the gifts (the price of Hector slain) + The sad attendants load the groaning wain: + Last to the yoke the well-matched mules they bring, + (The gift of Mysia to the Trojan king.) + But the fair horses, long his darling care, + Himself received, and harness'd to his car: + Grieved as he was, he not this task denied; + The hoary herald help'd him, at his side. + While careful these the gentle coursers join'd, + Sad Hecuba approach'd with anxious mind; + A golden bowl that foam'd with fragrant wine, + (Libation destined to the power divine,) + Held in her right, before the steed she stands, + And thus consigns it to the monarch's hands: + + "Take this, and pour to Jove; that safe from harms + His grace restore thee to our roof and arms. + Since victor of thy fears, and slighting mine, + Heaven, or thy soul, inspires this bold design; + Pray to that god, who high on Ida's brow + Surveys thy desolated realms below, + His winged messenger to send from high, + And lead thy way with heavenly augury: + Let the strong sovereign of the plumy race + Tower on the right of yon ethereal space. + That sign beheld, and strengthen'd from above, + Boldly pursue the journey mark'd by Jove: + But if the god his augury denies, + Suppress thy impulse, nor reject advice." + + "'Tis just (said Priam) to the sire above + To raise our hands; for who so good as Jove?" + He spoke, and bade the attendant handmaid bring + The purest water of the living spring: + (Her ready hands the ewer and bason held:) + Then took the golden cup his queen had fill'd; + On the mid pavement pours the rosy wine, + Uplifts his eyes, and calls the power divine: + + "O first and greatest! heaven's imperial lord! + On lofty Ida's holy hill adored! + To stern Achilles now direct my ways, + And teach him mercy when a father prays. + If such thy will, despatch from yonder sky + Thy sacred bird, celestial augury! + Let the strong sovereign of the plumy race + Tower on the right of yon ethereal space; + So shall thy suppliant, strengthen'd from above, + Fearless pursue the journey mark'd by Jove." + + Jove heard his prayer, and from the throne on high, + Despatch'd his bird, celestial augury! + The swift-wing'd chaser of the feather'd game, + And known to gods by Percnos' lofty name. + Wide as appears some palace-gate display'd. + So broad, his pinions stretch'd their ample shade, + As stooping dexter with resounding wings + The imperial bird descends in airy rings. + A dawn of joy in every face appears: + The mourning matron dries her timorous tears: + Swift on his car the impatient monarch sprung; + The brazen portal in his passage rung; + The mules preceding draw the loaded wain, + Charged with the gifts: Idaeus holds the rein: + The king himself his gentle steeds controls, + And through surrounding friends the chariot rolls. + On his slow wheels the following people wait, + Mourn at each step, and give him up to fate; + With hands uplifted eye him as he pass'd, + And gaze upon him as they gazed their last. + Now forward fares the father on his way, + Through the lone fields, and back to Ilion they. + Great Jove beheld him as he cross'd the plain, + And felt the woes of miserable man. + Then thus to Hermes: "Thou whose constant cares + Still succour mortals, and attend their prayers; + Behold an object to thy charge consign'd: + If ever pity touch'd thee for mankind, + Go, guard the sire: the observing foe prevent, + And safe conduct him to Achilles' tent." + + The god obeys, his golden pinions binds,(294) + And mounts incumbent on the wings of winds, + That high, through fields of air, his flight sustain, + O'er the wide earth, and o'er the boundless main; + Then grasps the wand that causes sleep to fly, + Or in soft slumbers seals the wakeful eye: + Thus arm'd, swift Hermes steers his airy way, + And stoops on Hellespont's resounding sea. + A beauteous youth, majestic and divine, + He seem'd; fair offspring of some princely line! + Now twilight veil'd the glaring face of day, + And clad the dusky fields in sober grey; + What time the herald and the hoary king + (Their chariots stopping at the silver spring, + That circling Ilus' ancient marble flows) + Allow'd their mules and steeds a short repose, + Through the dim shade the herald first espies + A man's approach, and thus to Priam cries: + "I mark some foe's advance: O king! beware; + This hard adventure claims thy utmost care! + For much I fear destruction hovers nigh: + Our state asks counsel; is it best to fly? + Or old and helpless, at his feet to fall, + Two wretched suppliants, and for mercy call?" + + The afflicted monarch shiver'd with despair; + Pale grew his face, and upright stood his hair; + Sunk was his heart; his colour went and came; + A sudden trembling shook his aged frame: + When Hermes, greeting, touch'd his royal hand, + And, gentle, thus accosts with kind demand: + + "Say whither, father! when each mortal sight + Is seal'd in sleep, thou wanderest through the night? + Why roam thy mules and steeds the plains along, + Through Grecian foes, so numerous and so strong? + What couldst thou hope, should these thy treasures view; + These, who with endless hate thy race pursue? + For what defence, alas! could'st thou provide; + Thyself not young, a weak old man thy guide? + Yet suffer not thy soul to sink with dread; + From me no harm shall touch thy reverend head; + From Greece I'll guard thee too; for in those lines + The living image of my father shines." + + "Thy words, that speak benevolence of mind, + Are true, my son! (the godlike sire rejoin'd:) + Great are my hazards; but the gods survey + My steps, and send thee, guardian of my way. + Hail, and be bless'd! For scarce of mortal kind + Appear thy form, thy feature, and thy mind." + + "Nor true are all thy words, nor erring wide; + (The sacred messenger of heaven replied;) + But say, convey'st thou through the lonely plains + What yet most precious of thy store remains, + To lodge in safety with some friendly hand: + Prepared, perchance, to leave thy native land? + Or fliest thou now?--What hopes can Troy retain, + Thy matchless son, her guard and glory, slain?" + + The king, alarm'd: "Say what, and whence thou art + Who search the sorrows of a parent's heart, + And know so well how godlike Hector died?" + Thus Priam spoke, and Hermes thus replied: + + "You tempt me, father, and with pity touch: + On this sad subject you inquire too much. + Oft have these eyes that godlike Hector view'd + In glorious fight, with Grecian blood embrued: + I saw him when, like Jove, his flames he toss'd + On thousand ships, and wither'd half a host: + I saw, but help'd not: stern Achilles' ire + Forbade assistance, and enjoy'd the fire. + For him I serve, of Myrmidonian race; + One ship convey'd us from our native place; + Polyctor is my sire, an honour'd name, + Old like thyself, and not unknown to fame; + Of seven his sons, by whom the lot was cast + To serve our prince, it fell on me, the last. + To watch this quarter, my adventure falls: + For with the morn the Greeks attack your walls; + Sleepless they sit, impatient to engage, + And scarce their rulers check their martial rage." + + "If then thou art of stern Pelides' train, + (The mournful monarch thus rejoin'd again,) + Ah tell me truly, where, oh! where are laid + My son's dear relics? what befals him dead? + Have dogs dismember'd (on the naked plains), + Or yet unmangled rest, his cold remains?" + + "O favour'd of the skies! (thus answered then + The power that mediates between god and men) + Nor dogs nor vultures have thy Hector rent, + But whole he lies, neglected in the tent: + This the twelfth evening since he rested there, + Untouch'd by worms, untainted by the air. + Still as Aurora's ruddy beam is spread, + Round his friend's tomb Achilles drags the dead: + Yet undisfigured, or in limb or face, + All fresh he lies, with every living grace, + Majestical in death! No stains are found + O'er all the corse, and closed is every wound, + Though many a wound they gave. Some heavenly care, + Some hand divine, preserves him ever fair: + Or all the host of heaven, to whom he led + A life so grateful, still regard him dead." + + Thus spoke to Priam the celestial guide, + And joyful thus the royal sire replied: + "Blest is the man who pays the gods above + The constant tribute of respect and love! + Those who inhabit the Olympian bower + My son forgot not, in exalted power; + And heaven, that every virtue bears in mind, + Even to the ashes of the just is kind. + But thou, O generous youth! this goblet take, + A pledge of gratitude for Hector's sake; + And while the favouring gods our steps survey, + Safe to Pelides' tent conduct my way." + + To whom the latent god: "O king, forbear + To tempt my youth, for apt is youth to err. + But can I, absent from my prince's sight, + Take gifts in secret, that must shun the light? + What from our master's interest thus we draw, + Is but a licensed theft that 'scapes the law. + Respecting him, my soul abjures the offence; + And as the crime, I dread the consequence. + Thee, far as Argos, pleased I could convey; + Guard of thy life, and partner of thy way: + On thee attend, thy safety to maintain, + O'er pathless forests, or the roaring main." + + He said, then took the chariot at a bound, + And snatch'd the reins, and whirl'd the lash around: + Before the inspiring god that urged them on, + The coursers fly with spirit not their own. + And now they reach'd the naval walls, and found + The guards repasting, while the bowls go round; + On these the virtue of his wand he tries, + And pours deep slumber on their watchful eyes: + Then heaved the massy gates, removed the bars, + And o'er the trenches led the rolling cars. + Unseen, through all the hostile camp they went, + And now approach'd Pelides' lofty tent. + On firs the roof was raised, and cover'd o'er + With reeds collected from the marshy shore; + And, fenced with palisades, a hall of state, + (The work of soldiers,) where the hero sat. + Large was the door, whose well-compacted strength + A solid pine-tree barr'd of wondrous length: + Scarce three strong Greeks could lift its mighty weight, + But great Achilles singly closed the gate. + This Hermes (such the power of gods) set wide; + Then swift alighted the celestial guide, + And thus reveal'd--"Hear, prince! and understand + Thou ow'st thy guidance to no mortal hand: + Hermes I am, descended from above, + The king of arts, the messenger of Jove, + Farewell: to shun Achilles' sight I fly; + Uncommon are such favours of the sky, + Nor stand confess'd to frail mortality. + Now fearless enter, and prefer thy prayers; + Adjure him by his father's silver hairs, + His son, his mother! urge him to bestow + Whatever pity that stern heart can know." + + Thus having said, he vanish'd from his eyes, + And in a moment shot into the skies: + The king, confirm'd from heaven, alighted there, + And left his aged herald on the car, + With solemn pace through various rooms he went, + And found Achilles in his inner tent: + There sat the hero: Alcimus the brave, + And great Automedon, attendance gave: + These served his person at the royal feast; + Around, at awful distance, stood the rest. + + Unseen by these, the king his entry made: + And, prostrate now before Achilles laid, + Sudden (a venerable sight!) appears; + Embraced his knees, and bathed his hands in tears; + Those direful hands his kisses press'd, embrued + Even with the best, the dearest of his blood! + + As when a wretch (who, conscious of his crime, + Pursued for murder, flies his native clime) + Just gains some frontier, breathless, pale, amazed, + All gaze, all wonder: thus Achilles gazed: + Thus stood the attendants stupid with surprise: + All mute, yet seem'd to question with their eyes: + Each look'd on other, none the silence broke, + Till thus at last the kingly suppliant spoke: + + "Ah think, thou favour'd of the powers divine!(295) + Think of thy father's age, and pity mine! + In me that father's reverend image trace, + Those silver hairs, that venerable face; + His trembling limbs, his helpless person, see! + In all my equal, but in misery! + Yet now, perhaps, some turn of human fate + Expels him helpless from his peaceful state; + Think, from some powerful foe thou seest him fly, + And beg protection with a feeble cry. + Yet still one comfort in his soul may rise; + He hears his son still lives to glad his eyes, + And, hearing, still may hope a better day + May send him thee, to chase that foe away. + No comfort to my griefs, no hopes remain, + The best, the bravest, of my sons are slain! + Yet what a race! ere Greece to Ilion came, + The pledge of many a loved and loving dame: + Nineteen one mother bore--Dead, all are dead! + How oft, alas! has wretched Priam bled! + Still one was left their loss to recompense; + His father's hope, his country's last defence. + Him too thy rage has slain! beneath thy steel, + Unhappy in his country's cause he fell! + + "For him through hostile camps I bent my way, + For him thus prostrate at thy feet I lay; + Large gifts proportion'd to thy wrath I bear; + O hear the wretched, and the gods revere! + + "Think of thy father, and this face behold! + See him in me, as helpless and as old! + Though not so wretched: there he yields to me, + The first of men in sovereign misery! + Thus forced to kneel, thus grovelling to embrace + The scourge and ruin of my realm and race; + Suppliant my children's murderer to implore, + And kiss those hands yet reeking with their gore!" + + These words soft pity in the chief inspire, + Touch'd with the dear remembrance of his sire. + Then with his hand (as prostrate still he lay) + The old man's cheek he gently turn'd away. + Now each by turns indulged the gush of woe; + And now the mingled tides together flow: + This low on earth, that gently bending o'er; + A father one, and one a son deplore: + But great Achilles different passions rend, + And now his sire he mourns, and now his friend. + The infectious softness through the heroes ran; + One universal solemn shower began; + They bore as heroes, but they felt as man. + + Satiate at length with unavailing woes, + From the high throne divine Achilles rose; + The reverend monarch by the hand he raised; + On his white beard and form majestic gazed, + Not unrelenting; then serene began + With words to soothe the miserable man: + + "Alas, what weight of anguish hast thou known, + Unhappy prince! thus guardless and alone + Two pass through foes, and thus undaunted face + The man whose fury has destroy'd thy race! + Heaven sure has arm'd thee with a heart of steel, + A strength proportion'd to the woes you feel. + Rise, then: let reason mitigate your care: + To mourn avails not: man is born to bear. + Such is, alas! the gods' severe decree: + They, only they are blest, and only free. + Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood, + The source of evil one, and one of good; + From thence the cup of mortal man he fills, + Blessings to these, to those distributes ill; + To most he mingles both: the wretch decreed + To taste the bad unmix'd, is cursed indeed; + Pursued by wrongs, by meagre famine driven, + He wanders, outcast both of earth and heaven. + The happiest taste not happiness sincere; + But find the cordial draught is dash'd with care. + Who more than Peleus shone in wealth and power + What stars concurring bless'd his natal hour! + A realm, a goddess, to his wishes given; + Graced by the gods with all the gifts of heaven. + One evil yet o'ertakes his latest day: + No race succeeding to imperial sway; + An only son; and he, alas! ordain'd + To fall untimely in a foreign land. + See him, in Troy, the pious care decline + Of his weak age, to live the curse of thine! + Thou too, old man, hast happier days beheld; + In riches once, in children once excell'd; + Extended Phrygia own'd thy ample reign, + And all fair Lesbos' blissful seats contain, + And all wide Hellespont's unmeasured main. + But since the god his hand has pleased to turn, + And fill thy measure from his bitter urn, + What sees the sun, but hapless heroes' falls? + War, and the blood of men, surround thy walls! + What must be, must be. Bear thy lot, nor shed + These unavailing sorrows o'er the dead; + Thou canst not call him from the Stygian shore, + But thou, alas! may'st live to suffer more!" + + To whom the king: "O favour'd of the skies! + Here let me grow to earth! since Hector lies + On the bare beach deprived of obsequies. + O give me Hector! to my eyes restore + His corse, and take the gifts: I ask no more. + Thou, as thou may'st, these boundless stores enjoy; + Safe may'st thou sail, and turn thy wrath from Troy; + So shall thy pity and forbearance give + A weak old man to see the light and live!" + + "Move me no more, (Achilles thus replies, + While kindling anger sparkled in his eyes,) + Nor seek by tears my steady soul to bend: + To yield thy Hector I myself intend: + For know, from Jove my goddess-mother came, + (Old Ocean's daughter, silver-footed dame,) + Nor comest thou but by heaven; nor comest alone, + Some god impels with courage not thy own: + No human hand the weighty gates unbarr'd, + Nor could the boldest of our youth have dared + To pass our outworks, or elude the guard. + Cease; lest, neglectful of high Jove's command, + I show thee, king! thou tread'st on hostile land; + Release my knees, thy suppliant arts give o'er, + And shake the purpose of my soul no more." + + The sire obey'd him, trembling and o'eraw'd. + Achilles, like a lion, rush'd abroad: + Automedon and Alcimus attend, + (Whom most he honour'd, since he lost his friend,) + These to unyoke the mules and horses went, + And led the hoary herald to the tent; + Next, heap'd on high, the numerous presents bear, + (Great Hector's ransom,) from the polish'd car. + Two splendid mantles, and a carpet spread, + They leave: to cover and enwrap the dead. + Then call the handmaids, with assistant toil + To wash the body and anoint with oil, + Apart from Priam: lest the unhappy sire, + Provoked to passion, once more rouse to ire + The stern Pelides; and nor sacred age, + Nor Jove's command, should check the rising rage. + This done, the garments o'er the corse they spread; + Achilles lifts it to the funeral bed: + Then, while the body on the car they laid, + He groans, and calls on loved Patroclus' shade: + + "If, in that gloom which never light must know, + The deeds of mortals touch the ghosts below, + O friend! forgive me, that I thus fulfil + (Restoring Hector) heaven's unquestion'd will. + The gifts the father gave, be ever thine, + To grace thy manes, and adorn thy shrine."(296) + + He said, and, entering, took his seat of state; + Where full before him reverend Priam sate; + To whom, composed, the godlike chief begun: + "Lo! to thy prayer restored, thy breathless son; + Extended on the funeral couch he lies; + And soon as morning paints the eastern skies, + The sight is granted to thy longing eyes: + But now the peaceful hours of sacred night + Demand reflection, and to rest invite: + Nor thou, O father! thus consumed with woe, + The common cares that nourish life forego. + Not thus did Niobe, of form divine, + A parent once, whose sorrows equall'd thine: + Six youthful sons, as many blooming maids, + In one sad day beheld the Stygian shades; + Those by Apollo's silver bow were slain, + These, Cynthia's arrows stretch'd upon the plain: + So was her pride chastised by wrath divine, + Who match'd her own with bright Latona's line; + But two the goddess, twelve the queen enjoy'd; + Those boasted twelve, the avenging two destroy'd. + Steep'd in their blood, and in the dust outspread, + Nine days, neglected, lay exposed the dead; + None by to weep them, to inhume them none; + (For Jove had turn'd the nation all to stone.) + The gods themselves, at length relenting gave + The unhappy race the honours of a grave. + Herself a rock (for such was heaven's high will) + Through deserts wild now pours a weeping rill; + Where round the bed whence Achelous springs, + The watery fairies dance in mazy rings; + There high on Sipylus's shaggy brow, + She stands, her own sad monument of woe; + The rock for ever lasts, the tears for ever flow. + + "Such griefs, O king! have other parents known; + Remember theirs, and mitigate thy own. + The care of heaven thy Hector has appear'd, + Nor shall he lie unwept, and uninterr'd; + Soon may thy aged cheeks in tears be drown'd, + And all the eyes of Ilion stream around." + + He said, and, rising, chose the victim ewe + With silver fleece, which his attendants slew. + The limbs they sever from the reeking hide, + With skill prepare them, and in parts divide: + Each on the coals the separate morsels lays, + And, hasty, snatches from the rising blaze. + With bread the glittering canisters they load, + Which round the board Automedon bestow'd. + The chief himself to each his portion placed, + And each indulging shared in sweet repast. + When now the rage of hunger was repress'd, + The wondering hero eyes his royal guest: + No less the royal guest the hero eyes, + His godlike aspect and majestic size; + Here, youthful grace and noble fire engage; + And there, the mild benevolence of age. + Thus gazing long, the silence neither broke, + (A solemn scene!) at length the father spoke: + + "Permit me now, beloved of Jove! to steep + My careful temples in the dew of sleep: + For, since the day that number'd with the dead + My hapless son, the dust has been my bed; + Soft sleep a stranger to my weeping eyes; + My only food, my sorrows and my sighs! + Till now, encouraged by the grace you give, + I share thy banquet, and consent to live." + + With that, Achilles bade prepare the bed, + With purple soft and shaggy carpets spread; + Forth, by the flaming lights, they bend their way, + And place the couches, and the coverings lay. + Then he: "Now, father, sleep, but sleep not here; + Consult thy safety, and forgive my fear, + Lest any Argive, at this hour awake, + To ask our counsel, or our orders take, + Approaching sudden to our open'd tent, + Perchance behold thee, and our grace prevent. + Should such report thy honour'd person here, + The king of men the ransom might defer; + But say with speed, if aught of thy desire + Remains unask'd; what time the rites require + To inter thy Hector? For, so long we stay + Our slaughtering arm, and bid the hosts obey." + + "If then thy will permit (the monarch said) + To finish all due honours to the dead, + This of thy grace accord: to thee are known + The fears of Ilion, closed within her town; + And at what distance from our walls aspire + The hills of Ide, and forests for the fire. + Nine days to vent our sorrows I request, + The tenth shall see the funeral and the feast; + The next, to raise his monument be given; + The twelfth we war, if war be doom'd by heaven!" + + "This thy request (replied the chief) enjoy: + Till then our arms suspend the fall of Troy." + + Then gave his hand at parting, to prevent + The old man's fears, and turn'd within the tent; + Where fair Briseis, bright in blooming charms, + Expects her hero with desiring arms. + But in the porch the king and herald rest; + Sad dreams of care yet wandering in their breast. + Now gods and men the gifts of sleep partake; + Industrious Hermes only was awake, + The king's return revolving in his mind, + To pass the ramparts, and the watch to blind. + The power descending hover'd o'er his head: + "And sleep'st thou, father! (thus the vision said:) + Now dost thou sleep, when Hector is restored? + Nor fear the Grecian foes, or Grecian lord? + Thy presence here should stern Atrides see, + Thy still surviving sons may sue for thee; + May offer all thy treasures yet contain, + To spare thy age; and offer all in vain." + + Waked with the word the trembling sire arose, + And raised his friend: the god before him goes: + He joins the mules, directs them with his hand, + And moves in silence through the hostile land. + When now to Xanthus' yellow stream they drove, + (Xanthus, immortal progeny of Jove,) + The winged deity forsook their view, + And in a moment to Olympus flew. + Now shed Aurora round her saffron ray, + Sprang through the gates of light, and gave the day: + Charged with the mournful load, to Ilion go + The sage and king, majestically slow. + Cassandra first beholds, from Ilion's spire, + The sad procession of her hoary sire; + Then, as the pensive pomp advanced more near, + (Her breathless brother stretched upon the bier,) + A shower of tears o'erflows her beauteous eyes, + Alarming thus all Ilion with her cries: + + "Turn here your steps, and here your eyes employ, + Ye wretched daughters, and ye sons of Troy! + If e'er ye rush'd in crowds, with vast delight, + To hail your hero glorious from the fight, + Now meet him dead, and let your sorrows flow; + Your common triumph, and your common woe." + + In thronging crowds they issue to the plains; + Nor man nor woman in the walls remains; + In every face the self-same grief is shown; + And Troy sends forth one universal groan. + At Scaea's gates they meet the mourning wain, + Hang on the wheels, and grovel round the slain. + The wife and mother, frantic with despair, + Kiss his pale cheek, and rend their scatter'd hair: + Thus wildly wailing, at the gates they lay; + And there had sigh'd and sorrow'd out the day; + But godlike Priam from the chariot rose: + "Forbear (he cried) this violence of woes; + First to the palace let the car proceed, + Then pour your boundless sorrows o'er the dead." + + The waves of people at his word divide, + Slow rolls the chariot through the following tide; + Even to the palace the sad pomp they wait: + They weep, and place him on the bed of state. + A melancholy choir attend around, + With plaintive sighs, and music's solemn sound: + Alternately they sing, alternate flow + The obedient tears, melodious in their woe. + While deeper sorrows groan from each full heart, + And nature speaks at every pause of art. + + First to the corse the weeping consort flew; + Around his neck her milk-white arms she threw, + "And oh, my Hector! Oh, my lord! (she cries) + Snatch'd in thy bloom from these desiring eyes! + Thou to the dismal realms for ever gone! + And I abandon'd, desolate, alone! + An only son, once comfort of our pains, + Sad product now of hapless love, remains! + Never to manly age that son shall rise, + Or with increasing graces glad my eyes: + For Ilion now (her great defender slain) + Shall sink a smoking ruin on the plain. + Who now protects her wives with guardian care? + Who saves her infants from the rage of war? + Now hostile fleets must waft those infants o'er + (Those wives must wait them) to a foreign shore: + Thou too, my son, to barbarous climes shall go, + The sad companion of thy mother's woe; + Driven hence a slave before the victor's sword + Condemn'd to toil for some inhuman lord: + Or else some Greek whose father press'd the plain, + Or son, or brother, by great Hector slain, + In Hector's blood his vengeance shall enjoy, + And hurl thee headlong from the towers of Troy.(297) + For thy stern father never spared a foe: + Thence all these tears, and all this scene of woe! + Thence many evils his sad parents bore, + His parents many, but his consort more. + Why gav'st thou not to me thy dying hand? + And why received not I thy last command? + Some word thou would'st have spoke, which, sadly dear, + My soul might keep, or utter with a tear; + Which never, never could be lost in air, + Fix'd in my heart, and oft repeated there!" + + Thus to her weeping maids she makes her moan, + Her weeping handmaids echo groan for groan. + + The mournful mother next sustains her part: + "O thou, the best, the dearest to my heart! + Of all my race thou most by heaven approved, + And by the immortals even in death beloved! + While all my other sons in barbarous bands + Achilles bound, and sold to foreign lands, + This felt no chains, but went a glorious ghost, + Free, and a hero, to the Stygian coast. + Sentenced, 'tis true, by his inhuman doom, + Thy noble corse was dragg'd around the tomb; + (The tomb of him thy warlike arm had slain;) + Ungenerous insult, impotent and vain! + Yet glow'st thou fresh with every living grace; + No mark of pain, or violence of face: + Rosy and fair! as Phoebus' silver bow + Dismiss'd thee gently to the shades below." + + Thus spoke the dame, and melted into tears. + Sad Helen next in pomp of grief appears; + Fast from the shining sluices of her eyes + Fall the round crystal drops, while thus she cries. + + "Ah, dearest friend! in whom the gods had join'd(298) + Tne mildest manners with the bravest mind, + Now twice ten years (unhappy years) are o'er + Since Paris brought me to the Trojan shore, + (O had I perish'd, ere that form divine + Seduced this soft, this easy heart of mine!) + Yet was it ne'er my fate, from thee to find + A deed ungentle, or a word unkind. + When others cursed the authoress of their woe, + Thy pity check'd my sorrows in their flow. + If some proud brother eyed me with disdain, + Or scornful sister with her sweeping train, + Thy gentle accents soften'd all my pain. + For thee I mourn, and mourn myself in thee, + The wretched source of all this misery. + The fate I caused, for ever I bemoan; + Sad Helen has no friend, now thou art gone! + Through Troy's wide streets abandon'd shall I roam! + In Troy deserted, as abhorr'd at home!" + + So spoke the fair, with sorrow-streaming eye. + Distressful beauty melts each stander-by. + On all around the infectious sorrow grows; + But Priam check'd the torrent as it rose: + "Perform, ye Trojans! what the rites require, + And fell the forests for a funeral pyre; + Twelve days, nor foes nor secret ambush dread; + Achilles grants these honours to the dead."(299) + + [Illustration: FUNERAL OF HECTOR.] + + FUNERAL OF HECTOR. + + + He spoke, and, at his word, the Trojan train + Their mules and oxen harness to the wain, + Pour through the gates, and fell'd from Ida's crown, + Roll back the gather'd forests to the town. + These toils continue nine succeeding days, + And high in air a sylvan structure raise. + But when the tenth fair morn began to shine, + Forth to the pile was borne the man divine, + And placed aloft; while all, with streaming eyes, + Beheld the flames and rolling smokes arise. + Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn, + With rosy lustre streak'd the dewy lawn, + Again the mournful crowds surround the pyre, + And quench with wine the yet remaining fire. + The snowy bones his friends and brothers place + (With tears collected) in a golden vase; + The golden vase in purple palls they roll'd, + Of softest texture, and inwrought with gold. + Last o'er the urn the sacred earth they spread, + And raised the tomb, memorial of the dead. + (Strong guards and spies, till all the rites were done, + Watch'd from the rising to the setting sun.) + All Troy then moves to Priam's court again, + A solemn, silent, melancholy train: + Assembled there, from pious toil they rest, + And sadly shared the last sepulchral feast. + Such honours Ilion to her hero paid, + And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade.(300) + + + + + +CONCLUDING NOTE. + + +We have now passed through the Iliad, and seen the anger of Achilles, and +the terrible effects of it, at an end, as that only was the subject of the +poem, and the nature of epic poetry would not permit our author to proceed +to the event of the war, it perhaps may be acceptable to the common reader +to give a short account of what happened to Troy and the chief actors in +this poem after the conclusion of it. + +I need not mention that Troy was taken soon after the death of Hector by +the stratagem of the wooden horse, the particulars of which are described +by Virgil in the second book of the AEneid. + +Achilles fell before Troy, by the hand of Paris, by the shot of an arrow +in his heel, as Hector had prophesied at his death, lib. xxii. + +The unfortunate Priam was killed by Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles. + +Ajax, after the death of Achilles, had a contest with Ulysses for the +armour of Vulcan, but being defeated in his aim, he slew himself through +indignation. + +Helen, after the death of Paris, married Deiphobus his brother, and at the +taking of Troy betrayed him, in order to reconcile herself to Menelaus her +first husband, who received her again into favour. + +Agamemnon at his return was barbarously murdered by AEgysthus, at the +instigation of Clytemnestra his wife, who in his absence had dishonoured +his bed with AEgysthus. + +Diomed, after the fall of Troy, was expelled his own country, and scarce +escaped with his life from his adulterous wife AEgiale; but at last was +received by Daunus in Apulia, and shared his kingdom; it is uncertain how +he died. + +Nestor lived in peace with his children, in Pylos, his native country. + +Ulysses also, after innumerable troubles by sea and land, at last returned +in safety to Ithaca, which is the subject of Homer's Odyssey. + +For what remains, I beg to be excused from the ceremonies of taking leave +at the end of my work, and from embarrassing myself, or others, with any +defences or apologies about it. But instead of endeavouring to raise a +vain monument to myself, of the merits or difficulties of it (which must +be left to the world, to truth, and to posterity), let me leave behind me +a memorial of my friendship with one of the most valuable of men, as well +as finest writers, of my age and country, one who has tried, and knows by +his own experience, how hard an undertaking it is to do justice to Homer, +and one whom (I am sure) sincerely rejoices with me at the period of my +labours. To him, therefore, having brought this long work to a conclusion, +I desire to dedicate it, and to have the honour and satisfaction of +placing together, in this manner, the names of Mr. CONGREVE, and of + +March 25, 1720 + + A. POPE + +Ton theon de eupoiia--to mae epi pleon me procophai en poiaetikn kai allois +epitaeoeimasi en ois isos a kateschethaen, ei aesthomaen emautan euodos +proionta. + + M. AUREL ANTON _de Seipso,_ lib. i. Section 17. + + + + + +END OF THE ILLIAD + + + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + + 1 "What," says Archdeacon Wilberforce, "is the natural root of loyalty + as distinguished from such mere selfish desire of personal security + as is apt to take its place in civilized times, but that + consciousness of a natural bond among the families of men which + gives a fellow-feeling to whole clans and nations, and thus enlists + their affections in behalf of those time-honoured representatives of + their ancient blood, in whose success they feel a personal interest? + Hence the delight when we recognize an act of nobility or justice in + our hereditary princes + + "'Tuque prior, tu parce genus qui ducis Olympo, + Projice tela manu _sanguis meus_' + + "So strong is this feeling, that it regains an engrafted influence + even when history witnesses that vast convulsions have rent and + weakened it and the Celtic feeling towards the Stuarts has been + rekindled in our own days towards the grand daughter of George the + Third of Hanover. + + "Somewhat similar may be seen in the disposition to idolize those + great lawgivers of man's race, who have given expression, in the + immortal language of song, to the deeper inspirations of our nature. + The thoughts of Homer or of Shakespere are the universal inheritance + of the human race. In this mutual ground every man meets his + brother, they have been bet forth by the providence of God to + vindicate for all of us what nature could effect, and that, in these + representatives of our race, we might recognize our common + benefactors.'--_Doctrine of the Incarnation,_ pp. 9, 10. + + 2 Eikos de min aen kai mnaemoruna panton grapherthai. Vit. Hom. in + Schweigh Herodot t. iv. p. 299, sq. Section 6. I may observe that + this Life has been paraphrased in English by my learned young friend + Kenneth R. H. Mackenzie, and appended to my prose translation of the + Odyssey. The present abridgement however, will contain all that is + of use to the reader, for the biographical value of the treatise is + most insignificant. + + 3 --_I.e._ both of composing and reciting verses for as Blair observes, + "The first poets sang their own verses." Sextus Empir. adv. Mus. p. + 360 ed. Fabric. Ou hamelei ge toi kai oi poiaetai melopoioi + legontai, kai ta Omaerou epae to palai pros lyran aedeto. + + "The voice," observes Heeren, "was always accompanied by some + instrument. The bard was provided with a harp on which he played a + prelude, to elevate and inspire his mind, and with which he + accompanied the song when begun. His voice probably preserved a + medium between singing and recitation; the words, and not the melody + were regarded by the listeners, hence it was necessary for him to + remain intelligible to all. In countries where nothing similar is + found, it is difficult to represent such scenes to the mind; but + whoever has had an opportunity of listening to the improvisation of + Italy, can easily form an idea of Demodocus and Phemius."--_Ancient + Greece,_ p. 94. + + 4 "Should it not be, since _my_ arrival? asks Mackenzie, observing + that "poplars can hardly live so long". But setting aside the fact + that we must not expect consistency in a mere romance, the ancients + had a superstitious belief in the great age of trees which grew near + places consecrated by the presence of gods and great men. See Cicero + de Legg II I, sub init., where he speaks of the plane tree under + which Socrates used to walk and of the tree at Delos, where Latona + gave birth to Apollo. This passage is referred to by Stephanus of + Byzantium, _s. v._ N. T. p. 490, ed. de Pinedo. I omit quoting any + of the dull epigrams ascribed to Homer for, as Mr. Justice Talfourd + rightly observes, "The authenticity of these fragments depends upon + that of the pseudo Herodotean Life of Homer, from which they are + taken." Lit of Greece, pp. 38 in Encycl. Metrop. Cf. Coleridge, + Classic Poets, p. 317. + + 5 It is quoted as the work of Cleobulus, by Diogenes Laert. Vit. + Cleob. p. 62, ed. Casaub. + + 6 I trust I am justified in employing this as an equivalent for the + Greek leschai. + + 7 Os ei tous, Homerous doxei trephein autois, omilon pollon te kai + achreoin exousin. enteuthen de kai tounoma Homeros epekrataese to + Melaesigenei apo taes symphoraes oi gar Kumaioi tous tuphlous + Homerous legousin. Vit. Hom. _l. c._ p. 311. The etymology has been + condemned by recent scholars. See Welcker, Epische Cyclus, p. 127, + and Mackenzie's note, p. xiv. + + 8 Thestorides, thnetoisin anoiston poleon per, ouden aphrastoteron + peletai noou anthropoisin. Ibid. p. 315. During his stay at Phocoea, + Homer is said to have composed the Little Iliad, and the Phocoeid. + See Muller's Hist. of Lit., vi. Section 3. Welcker, _l. c._ pp. 132, + 272, 358, sqq., and Mure, Gr. Lit. vol. ii. p. 284, sq. + + 9 This is so pretty a picture of early manners and hospitality, that + it is almost a pity to find that it is obviously a copy from the + Odyssey. See the fourteenth book. In fact, whoever was the author of + this fictitious biography, he showed some tact in identifying Homer + with certain events described in his poems, and in eliciting from + them the germs of something like a personal narrative. + + 10 Dia logon estionto. A common metaphor. So Plato calls the parties + conversing daitumones, or estiatores. Tim. i. p. 522 A. Cf. Themist. + Orat. vi. p. 168, and xvi. p. 374, ed. Petav So diaegaemasi sophois + omou kai terpnois aedio taen Thoinaen tois hestiomenois epoiei, + Choricius in Fabric. Bibl. Gr. T. viii. P. 851. logois gar estia, + Athenaeus vii p 275, A + + 11 It was at Bolissus, and in the house of this Chian citizen, that + Homer is said to have written the Batrachomyomachia, or Battle of + the Frogs and Mice, the Epicichlidia, and some other minor works. + + 12 Chandler, Travels, vol. i. p. 61, referred to in the Voyage + Pittoresque dans la Grece, vol. i. P. 92, where a view of the spot + is given of which the author candidly says,-- "Je ne puis repondre + d'une exactitude scrupuleuse dans la vue generale que j'en donne, + car etant alle seul pour l'examiner je perdis mon crayon, et je fus + oblige de m'en fier a ma memoire. Je ne crois cependant pas avoir + trop a me plaindre d'elle en cette occasion." + + 13 A more probable reason for this companionship, and for the character + of Mentor itself, is given by the allegorists, viz.: the assumption + of Mentor's form by the guardian deity of the wise Ulysses, Minerva. + The classical reader may compare Plutarch, Opp. t. ii. p. 880; + _Xyland._ Heraclid. Pont. Alleg. Hom. p. 531-5, of Gale's Opusc. + Mythol. Dionys. Halic. de Hom. Poes. c. 15; Apul. de Deo Socrat. s. + f. + + 14 Vit. Hom. Section 28. + + 15 The riddle is given in Section 35. Compare Mackenzie's note, p. xxx. + + 16 Heeren's Ancient Greece, p. 96. + + 17 Compare Sir E. L. Bulwer's Caxtons v. i. p. 4. + + 18 Pericles and Aspasia, Letter lxxxiv., Works, vol ii. p. 387. + + 19 Quarterly Review, No. lxxxvii., p. 147. + + 20 Viz., the following beautiful passage, for the translation of which + I am indebted to Coleridge, Classic Poets, p. 286. + + "Origias, farewell! and oh! remember me + Hereafter, when some stranger from the sea, + A hapless wanderer, may your isle explore, + And ask you, maid, of all the bards you boast, + Who sings the sweetest, and delights you most + Oh! answer all,--'A blind old man and poor + Sweetest he sings--and dwells on Chios' rocky shore.'" + + _See_ Thucyd. iii, 104. + + 21 Longin., de Sublim., ix. Section 26. Othen en tae Odysseia + pareikasai tis an kataduomeno ton Omaeron haelio, oo dixa taes + sphodrotaetos paramenei to megethos + + 22 See Tatian, quoted in Fabric. Bibl. Gr. v. II t. ii. Mr. Mackenzie + has given three brief but elaborate papers on the different writers + on the subject, which deserve to be consulted. See Notes and + Queries, vol. v. pp. 99, 171, and 221. His own views are moderate, + and perhaps as satisfactory, on the whole, as any of the hypotheses + hitherto put forth. In fact, they consist in an attempt to blend + those hypotheses into something like consistency, rather than in + advocating any individual theory. + + 23 Letters to Phileleuth; Lips. + + 24 Hist. of Greece, vol. ii. p. 191, sqq. + + 25 It is, indeed not easy to calculate the height to which the memory + may be cultivated. To take an ordinary case, we might refer to that + of any first rate actor, who must be prepared, at a very short + warning, to 'rhapsodize,' night after night, parts which when laid + together, would amount to an immense number of lines. But all this + is nothing to two instances of our own day. Visiting at Naples a + gentleman of the highest intellectual attainments, and who held a + distinguished rank among the men of letters in the last century, he + informed us that the day before he had passed much time in examining + a man, not highly educated, who had learned to repeat the whole + Gierusalemme of Tasso, not only to recite it consecutively, but also + to repeat those stanzas in utter defiance of the sense, either + forwards or backwards, or from the eighth line to the first, + alternately the odd and even lines--in short, whatever the passage + required; the memory, which seemed to cling to the words much more + than to the sense, had it at such perfect command, that it could + produce it under any form. Our informant went on to state that this + singular being was proceeding to learn the Orlando Furioso in the + same manner. But even this instance is less wonderful than one as to + which we may appeal to any of our readers that happened some twenty + years ago to visit the town of Stirling, in Scotland. No such person + can have forgotten the poor, uneducated man Blind Jamie who could + actually repeat, after a few minutes consideration any verse + required from any part of the Bible--even the obscurest and most + unimportant enumeration of mere proper names not excepted. We do not + mention these facts as touching the more difficult part of the + question before us, but facts they are; and if we find so much + difficulty in calculating the extent to which the mere memory may be + cultivated, are we, in these days of multifarious reading, and of + countless distracting affairs, fair judges of the perfection to + which the invention and the memory combined may attain in a simpler + age, and among a more single minded people?--Quarterly Review, _l. + c.,_ p. 143, sqq. + + Heeren steers between the two opinions, observing that, "The + Dschungariade of the Calmucks is said to surpass the poems of Homer + in length, as much as it stands beneath them in merit, and yet it + exists only in the memory of a people which is not unacquainted with + writing. But the songs of a nation are probably the last things + which are committed to writing, for the very reason that they are + remembered."-- _Ancient Greece._ p. 100. + + 26 Vol. II p. 198, sqq. + + 27 Quarterly Review, _l. c.,_ p. 131 sq. + + 28 Betrachtungen uber die Ilias. Berol. 1841. See Grote, p. 204. Notes + and Queries, vol. v. p. 221. + + 29 Prolegg. pp. xxxii., xxxvi., &c. + + 30 Vol. ii. p. 214 sqq. + + 31 "Who," says Cicero, de Orat. iii. 34, "was more learned in that age, + or whose eloquence is reported to have been more perfected by + literature than that of Peisistratus, who is said first to have + disposed the books of Homer in the order in which we now have them?" + Compare Wolf's Prolegomena, Section 33 + + 32 "The first book, together with the eighth, and the books from the + eleventh to the twenty-second inclusive, seems to form the primary + organization of the poem, then properly an Achilleis."--Grote, vol. + ii. p. 235 + + 33 K. R. H. Mackenzie, Notes and Queries, p. 222 sqq. + + 34 See his Epistle to Raphelingius, in Schroeder's edition, 4to., + Delphis, 1728. + + 35 Ancient Greece, p. 101. + + 36 The best description of this monument will be found in Vaux's + "Antiquities of the British Museum," p. 198 sq. The monument itself + (Towneley Sculptures, No. 123) is well known. + + 37 Coleridge, Classic Poets, p. 276. + + 38 Preface to her Homer. + + 39 Hesiod. Opp. et Dier. Lib. I. vers. 155, &c. + + 40 The following argument of the Iliad, corrected in a few particulars, + is translated from Bitaube, and is, perhaps, the neatest summary + that has ever been drawn up:--"A hero, injured by his general, and + animated with a noble resentment, retires to his tent; and for a + season withdraws himself and his troops from the war. During this + interval, victory abandons the army, which for nine years has been + occupied in a great enterprise, upon the successful termination of + which the honour of their country depends. The general, at length + opening his eyes to the fault which he had committed, deputes the + principal officers of his army to the incensed hero, with commission + to make compensation for the injury, and to tender magnificent + presents. The hero, according to the proud obstinacy of his + character, persists in his animosity; the army is again defeated, + and is on the verge of entire destruction. This inexorable man has a + friend; this friend weeps before him, and asks for the hero's arms, + and for permission to go to the war in his stead. The eloquence of + friendship prevails more than the intercession of the ambassadors or + the gifts of the general. He lends his armour to his friend, but + commands him not to engage with the chief of the enemy's army, + because he reserves to himself the honour of that combat, and + because he also fears for his friend's life. The prohibition is + forgotten; the friend listens to nothing but his courage; his corpse + is brought back to the hero, and the hero's arms become the prize of + the conqueror. Then the hero, given up to the most lively despair, + prepares to fight; he receives from a divinity new armour, is + reconciled with his general and, thirsting for glory and revenge, + enacts prodigies of valour, recovers the victory, slays the enemy's + chief, honours his friend with superb funeral rites, and exercises a + cruel vengeance on the body of his destroyer; but finally appeased + by the tears and prayers of the father of the slain warrior, + restores to the old man the corpse of his son, which he buries with + due solemnities.'--Coleridge, p. 177, sqq. + + 41 Vultures: Pope is more accurate than the poet he translates, for + Homer writes "a prey to dogs and to _all_ kinds of birds. But all + kinds of birds are not carnivorous. + + 42 --_i.e._ during the whole time of their striving the will of Jove was + being gradually accomplished. + + 43 Compare Milton's "Paradise Lost" i. 6 + + "Sing, heavenly Muse, that on the secret top + Of Horeb, or of Sinai, didst inspire + That shepherd." + + 44 --_Latona's son: i.e._ Apollo. + + 45 --_King of men:_ Agamemnon. + + 46 --_Brother kings:_ Menelaus and Agamemnon. + + 47 --_Smintheus_ an epithet taken from sminthos, the Phrygian name for a + _mouse,_ was applied to Apollo for having put an end to a plague of + mice which had harassed that territory. Strabo, however, says, that + when the Teucri were migrating from Crete, they were told by an + oracle to settle in that place, where they should not be attacked by + the original inhabitants of the land, and that, having halted for + the night, a number of field-mice came and gnawed away the leathern + straps of their baggage, and thongs of their armour. In fulfilment + of the oracle, they settled on the spot, and raised a temple to + Sminthean Apollo. Grote, "History of Greece," i. p. 68, remarks that + the "worship of Sminthean Apollo, in various parts of the Troad and + its neighboring territory, dates before the earliest period of + Aeolian colonization." + + 48 --_Cilla,_ a town of Troas near Thebe, so called from Cillus, a + sister of Hippodamia, slain by OEnomaus. + + 49 A mistake. It should be, + + + "If e'er I _roofed_ thy graceful fane," + + + for the custom of decorating temples with garlands was of later + date. + + 50 --_Bent was his bow_ "The Apollo of Homer, it must be borne in mind, + is a different character from the deity of the same name in the + later classical pantheon. Throughout both poems, all deaths from + unforeseen or invisible causes, the ravages of pestilence, the fate + of the young child or promising adult, cut off in the germ of + infancy or flower of youth, of the old man dropping peacefully into + the grave, or of the reckless sinner suddenly checked in his career + of crime, are ascribed to the arrows of Apollo or Diana. The + oracular functions of the god rose naturally out of the above + fundamental attributes, for who could more appropriately impart to + mortals what little foreknowledge Fate permitted of her decrees than + the agent of her most awful dispensations? The close union of the + arts of prophecy and song explains his additional office of god of + music, while the arrows with which he and his sister were armed, + symbols of sudden death in every age, no less naturally procured him + that of god of archery. Of any connection between Apollo and the + Sun, whatever may have existed in the more esoteric doctrine of the + Greek sanctuaries, there is no trace in either Iliad or + Odyssey."--Mure, "History of Greek Literature," vol. i. p. 478, sq. + + 51 It has frequently been observed, that most pestilences begin with + animals, and that Homer had this fact in mind. + + 52 --_Convened to council._ The public assembly in the heroic times is + well characterized by Grote, vol. ii. p 92. "It is an assembly for + talk. Communication and discussion to a certain extent by the chiefs + in person, of the people as listeners and sympathizers--often for + eloquence, and sometimes for quarrel--but here its ostensible + purposes end." + + 53 Old Jacob Duport, whose "Gnomologia Homerica" is full of curious and + useful things, quotes several passages of the ancients, in which + reference is made to these words of Homer, in maintenance of the + belief that dreams had a divine origin and an import in which men + were interested. + + 54 Rather, "bright-eyed." See the German critics quoted by Arnold. + + 55 The prize given to Ajax was Tecmessa, while Ulysses received + Laodice, the daughter of Cycnus. + + 56 The Myrmidons dwelt on the southern borders of Thessaly, and took + their origin from Myrmido, son of Jupiter and Eurymedusa. It is + fancifully supposed that the name was derived from myrmaex, an + _ant,_ "because they imitated the diligence of the ants, and like + them were indefatigable, continually employed in cultivating the + earth; the change from ants to men is founded merely on the + equivocation of their name, which resembles that of the ant: they + bore a further resemblance to these little animals, in that instead + of inhabiting towns or villages, at first they commonly resided in + the open fields, having no other retreats but dens and the cavities + of trees, until Ithacus brought them together, and settled them in + more secure and comfortable habitations."--Anthon's "Lempriere." + + 57 Eustathius, after Heraclides Ponticus and others, allegorizes this + apparition, as if the appearance of Minerva to Achilles, unseen by + the rest, was intended to point out the sudden recollection that he + would gain nothing by intemperate wrath, and that it were best to + restrain his anger, and only gratify it by withdrawing his services. + The same idea is rather cleverly worked out by Apuleius, "De Deo + Socratis." + + 58 Compare Milton, "Paradise Lost," bk. ii: + + "Though his tongue + Dropp'd manna." + + So Proverbs v. 3, "For the lips of a strange woman drop as an + honey-comb." + + 59 Salt water was chiefly used in lustrations, from its being supposed + to possess certain fiery particles. Hence, if sea-water could not be + obtained, salt was thrown into the fresh water to be used for the + lustration. Menander, in Clem. Alex. vii. p.713, hydati perriranai, + embalon alas, phakois. + + 60 The persons of heralds were held inviolable, and they were at + liberty to travel whither they would without fear of molestation. + Pollux, Onom. viii. p. 159. The office was generally given to old + men, and they were believed to be under the especial protection of + Jove and Mercury. + + 61 His mother, Thetis, the daughter of Nereus and Doris, who was + courted by Neptune and Jupiter. When, however, it was known that the + son to whom she would give birth must prove greater than his father, + it was determined to wed her to a mortal, and Peleus, with great + difficulty, succeeded in obtaining her hand, as she eluded him by + assuming various forms. Her children were all destroyed by fire + through her attempts to see whether they were immortal, and Achilles + would have shared the same fate had not his father rescued him. She + afterwards rendered him invulnerable by plunging him into the waters + of the Styx, with the exception of that part of the heel by which + she held him. Hygin. Fab. 54 + + 62 Thebe was a city of Mysia, north of Adramyttium. + + 63 That is, defrauds me of the prize allotted me by their votes. + + 64 Quintus Calaber goes still further in his account of the service + rendered to Jove by Thetis: + + "Nay more, the fetters of Almighty Jove + She loosed"--Dyce's "Calaber," s. 58. + + 65 --_To Fates averse._ Of the gloomy destiny reigning throughout the + Homeric poems, and from which even the gods are not exempt, Schlegel + well observes, "This power extends also to the world of gods-- for + the Grecian gods are mere powers of nature--and although immeasurably + higher than mortal man, yet, compared with infinitude, they are on + an equal footing with himself."--'Lectures on the Drama' v. p. 67. + + 66 It has been observed that the annual procession of the sacred ship + so often represented on Egyptian monuments, and the return of the + deity from Ethiopia after some days' absence, serves to show the + Ethiopian origin of Thebes, and of the worship of Jupiter Ammon. "I + think," says Heeren, after quoting a passage from Diodorus about the + holy ship, "that this procession is represented in one of the great + sculptured reliefs on the temple of Karnak. The sacred ship of Ammon + is on the shore with its whole equipment, and is towed along by + another boat. It is therefore on its voyage. This must have been one + of the most celebrated festivals, since, even according to the + interpretation of antiquity, Homer alludes to it when he speaks of + Jupiter's visit to the Ethiopians, and his twelve days' + absence."--Long, "Egyptian Antiquities" vol. 1 p. 96. Eustathius, + vol. 1 p. 98, sq. (ed. Basil) gives this interpretation, and + likewise an allegorical one, which we will spare the reader. + + 67 --_Atoned,_ i.e. reconciled. This is the proper and most natural + meaning of the word, as may be seen from Taylor's remarks in + Calmet's Dictionary, p.110, of my edition. + + 68 That is, drawing back their necks while they cut their throats. "If + the sacrifice was in honour of the celestial gods, the throat was + bent upwards towards heaven; but if made to the heroes, or infernal + deities, it was killed with its throat toward the ground."-- "Elgin + Marbles," vol i. p.81. + + "The jolly crew, unmindful of the past, + The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste, + Some strip the skin; some portion out the spoil; + The limbs yet trembling, in the caldrons boil; + Some on the fire the reeking entrails broil. + Stretch'd on the grassy turf, at ease they dine, + Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their souls with + wine." + + Dryden's "Virgil," i. 293. + + 69 --_Crown'd, i.e._ filled to the brim. The custom of adorning goblets + with flowers was of later date. + + 70 --_He spoke,_ &c. "When a friend inquired of Phidias what pattern he + had formed his Olympian Jupiter, he is said to have answered by + repeating the lines of the first Iliad in which the poet represents + the majesty of the god in the most sublime terms; thereby signifying + that the genius of Homer had inspired him with it. Those who beheld + this statue are said to have been so struck with it as to have asked + whether Jupiter had descended from heaven to show himself to + Phidias, or whether Phidias had been carried thither to contemplate + the god."-- "Elgin Marbles," vol. xii p.124. + + 71 "So was his will + Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath, + That shook heav'n's whole circumference, confirm'd." + + "Paradise Lost" ii. 351. + + 72 --_A double bowl, i.e._ a vessel with a cup at both ends, something + like the measures by which a halfpenny or pennyworth of nuts is + sold. See Buttmann, Lexic. p. 93 sq. + + 73 "Paradise Lost," i. 44. + + "Him th' Almighty power + Hurl'd headlong flaming from th ethereal sky, + With hideous ruin and combustion" + + 74 The occasion on which Vulcan incurred Jove's displeasure was + this--After Hercules, had taken and pillaged Troy, Juno raised a + storm, which drove him to the island of Cos, having previously cast + Jove into a sleep, to prevent him aiding his son. Jove, in revenge, + fastened iron anvils to her feet, and hung her from the sky, and + Vulcan, attempting to relieve her, was kicked down from Olympus in + the manner described. The allegorists have gone mad in finding deep + explanations for this amusing fiction. See Heraclides, 'Ponticus," + p. 463 sq., ed Gale. The story is told by Homer himself in Book xv. + The Sinthians were a race of robbers, the ancient inhabitants of + Lemnos which island was ever after sacred to Vulcan. + + "Nor was his name unheard or unadored + In ancient Greece, and in Ausonian land + Men call'd him Mulciber, and how he fell + From heaven, they fabled, thrown by angry Jove + Sheer o'er the crystal battlements from morn + To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, + A summer's day and with the setting sun + Dropp'd from the zenith like a falling star + On Lemnos, th' Aegean isle thus they relate." + + "Paradise Lost," i. 738 + + 75 It is ingeniously observed by Grote, vol i p. 463, that "The gods + formed a sort of political community of their own which had its + hierarchy, its distribution of ranks and duties, its contentions for + power and occasional revolutions, its public meetings in the agora + of Olympus, and its multitudinous banquets or festivals." + + 76 Plato, Rep. iii. p. 437, was so scandalized at this deception of + Jupiter's, and at his other attacks on the character of the gods, + that he would fain sentence him to an honourable banishment. (See + Minucius Felix, Section 22.) Coleridge, Introd. p. 154, well + observes, that the supreme father of gods and men had a full right + to employ a lying spirit to work out his ultimate will. Compare + "Paradise Lost," v. 646: + + "And roseate dews disposed + All but the unsleeping eyes of God to rest." + + 77 --_Dream_ ought to be spelt with a capital letter, being, I think, + evidently personified as the god of dreams. See Anthon and others. + + "When, by Minerva sent, a _fraudful_ Dream + Rush'd from the skies, the bane of her and Troy." + + Dyce's "Select Translations from Quintus Calaber," p.10. + + 78 "Sleep'st thou, companion dear, what sleep can close + Thy eye-lids?" + + --"Paradise Lost," v. 673. + + 79 This truly military sentiment has been echoed by the approving voice + of many a general and statesman of antiquity. See Pliny's Panegyric + on Trajan. Silius neatly translates it, + + + "Turpe duci totam somno consumere noctem." + + + 80 --_The same in habit, &c._ + + "To whom once more the winged god appears; + His former youthful mien and shape he wears." + + Dryden's Virgil, iv. 803. + + 81 "As bees in spring-time, when + The sun with Taurus rides, + Pour forth their populous youth about the hive + In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers + Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, + The suburb of this straw-built citadel, + New-nibb'd with balm, expatiate and confer + Their state affairs. So thick the very crowd + Swarm'd and were straiten'd."--"Paradise Lost" i. 768. + + 82 It was the herald's duty to make the people sit down. "A _standing_ + agora is a symptom of manifest terror (II. Xviii. 246) an evening + agora, to which men came elevated by wine, is also the forerunner of + mischief ('Odyssey,' iii. 138)."--Grote, ii. p. 91, _note._ + + 83 This sceptre, like that of Judah (Genesis xlix. 10), is a type of + the supreme and far-spread dominion of the house of the Atrides. See + Thucydides i. 9. "It is traced through the hands of Hermes, he being + the wealth giving god, whose blessing is most efficacious in + furthering the process of acquisition."--Grote, i. p. 212. Compare + Quintus Calaber (Dyce's Selections, p. 43). + + "Thus the monarch spoke, + Then pledged the chief in a capacious cup, + Golden, and framed by art divine (a gift + Which to Almighty Jove lame Vulcan brought + Upon his nuptial day, when he espoused + The Queen of Love), the sire of gods bestow'd + The cup on Dardanus, who gave it next + To Ericthonius Tros received it then, + And left it, with his wealth, to be possess'd + By Ilus he to great Laomedon + Gave it, and last to Priam's lot it fell." + + 84 Grote, i, p. 393, states the number of the Grecian forces at upwards + of 100,000 men. Nichols makes a total of 135,000. + + 85 "As thick as when a field + Of Ceres, ripe for harvest, waving bends + His bearded grove of ears, which way the wind + Sways them."--Paradise Lost," iv. 980, sqq. + + 86 This sentiment used to be a popular one with some of the greatest + tyrants, who abused it into a pretext for unlimited usurpation of + power. Dion, Caligula, and Domitian were particularly fond of it, + and, in an extended form, we find the maxim propounded by Creon in + the Antigone of Sophocles. See some important remarks of Heeren, + "Ancient Greece," ch. vi. p. 105. + + 87 It may be remarked, that the character of Thersites, revolting and + contemptible as it is, serves admirably to develop the disposition + of Ulysses in a new light, in which mere cunning is less prominent. + Of the gradual and individual development of Homer's heroes, + Schlegel well observes, "In bas-relief the figures are usually in + profile, and in the epos all are characterized in the simplest + manner in relief; they are not grouped together, but follow one + another; so Homer's heroes advance, one by one, in succession before + us. It has been remarked that the _Iliad_ is not definitively + closed, but that we are left to suppose something both to precede + and to follow it. The bas-relief is equally without limit, and may + be continued _ad infinitum,_ either from before or behind, on which + account the ancients preferred for it such subjects as admitted of + an indefinite extension, sacrificial processions, dances, and lines + of combatants, and hence they also exhibit bas-reliefs on curved + surfaces, such as vases, or the frieze of a rotunda, where, by the + curvature, the two ends are withdrawn from our sight, and where, + while we advance, one object appears as another disappears. Reading + Homer is very much like such a circuit; the present object alone + arresting our attention, we lose sight of what precedes, and do not + concern ourselves about what is to follow."--"Dramatic Literature," + p. 75. + + 88 "There cannot be a clearer indication than this description --so + graphic in the original poem--of the true character of the Homeric + agora. The multitude who compose it are listening and acquiescent, + not often hesitating, and never refractory to the chief. The fate + which awaits a presumptuous critic, even where his virulent + reproaches are substantially well-founded, is plainly set forth in + the treatment of Thersites; while the unpopularity of such a + character is attested even more by the excessive pains which Homer + takes to heap upon him repulsive personal deformities, than by the + chastisement of Odysseus he is lame, bald, crook-backed, of + misshapen head, and squinting vision."--Grote, vol. i. p. 97. + + 89 According to Pausanias, both the sprig and the remains of the tree + were exhibited in his time. The tragedians, Lucretius and others, + adopted a different fable to account for the stoppage at Aulis, and + seem to have found the sacrifice of Iphigena better suited to form + the subject of a tragedy. Compare Dryden's "AEneid," vol. iii. sqq. + + 90 --_Full of his god, i.e.,_ Apollo, filled with the prophetic spirit. + "_The_ god" would be more simple and emphatic. + + 91 Those critics who have maintained that the "Catalogue of Ships" is + an interpolation, should have paid more attention to these lines, + which form a most natural introduction to their enumeration. + + 92 The following observation will be useful to Homeric readers: + "Particular animals were, at a later time, consecrated to particular + deities. To Jupiter, Ceres, Juno, Apollo, and Bacchus victims of + advanced age might be offered. An ox of five years old was + considered especially acceptable to Jupiter. A black bull, a ram, or + a boar pig, were offerings for Neptune. A heifer, or a sheep, for + Minerva. To Ceres a sow was sacrificed, as an enemy to corn. The + goat to Bacchus, because he fed on vines. Diana was propitiated with + a stag; and to Venus the dove was consecrated. The infernal and evil + deities were to be appeased with black victims. The most acceptable + of all sacrifices was the heifer of a year old, which had never + borne the yoke. It was to be perfect in every limb, healthy, and + without blemish."--"Elgin Marbles," vol. i. p. 78. + + 93 --_Idomeneus,_ son of Deucalion, was king of Crete. Having vowed, + during a tempest, on his return from Troy, to sacrifice to Neptune + the first creature that should present itself to his eye on the + Cretan shore, his son fell a victim to his rash vow. + + 94 --_Tydeus' son, i.e._ Diomed. + + 95 That is, Ajax, the son of Oileus, a Locrian. He must be + distinguished from the other, who was king of Salamis. + + 96 A great deal of nonsense has been written to account for the word + _unbid,_ in this line. Even Plato, "Sympos." p. 315, has found some + curious meaning in what, to us, appears to need no explanation. Was + there any _heroic_ rule of etiquette which prevented one + brother-king visiting another without a formal invitation? + + 97 Fresh water fowl, especially swans, were found in great numbers + about the Asian Marsh, a fenny tract of country in Lydia, formed by + the river Cayster, near its mouth. See Virgil, "Georgics," vol. i. + 383, sq. + + 98 --_Scamander,_ or Scamandros, was a river of Troas, rising, according + to Strabo, on the highest part of Mount Ida, in the same hill with + the Granicus and the OEdipus, and falling into the sea at Sigaeum; + everything tends to identify it with Mendere, as Wood, Rennell, and + others maintain; the Mendere is 40 miles long, 300 feet broad, deep + in the time of flood, nearly dry in the summer. Dr. Clarke + successfully combats the opinion of those who make the Scamander to + have arisen from the springs of Bounabarshy, and traces the source + of the river to the highest mountain in the chain of Ida, now + Kusdaghy; receives the Simois in its course; towards its mouth it is + very muddy, and flows through marshes. Between the Scamander and + Simois, Homer's Troy is supposed to have stood: this river, + according to Homer, was called Xanthus by the gods, Scamander by + men. The waters of the Scamander had the singular property of giving + a beautiful colour to the hair or wool of such animals as bathed in + them; hence the three goddesses, Minerva, Juno, and Venus, bathed + there before they appeared before Paris to obtain the golden apple: + the name Xanthus, "yellow," was given to the Scamander, from the + peculiar colour of its waters, still applicable to the Mendere, the + yellow colour of whose waters attracts the attention of travellers. + + 99 It should be "his _chest_ like Neptune." The torso of Neptune, in + the "Elgin Marbles," No. 103, (vol. ii. p. 26,) is remarkable for + its breadth and massiveness of development. + + 100 "Say first, for heav'n hides nothing from thy view." + + --"Paradise Lost," i. 27. + + "Ma di' tu, Musa, come i primi danni + Mandassero a Cristiani, e di quai parti: + Tu 'l sai; ma di tant' opra a noi si lunge + Debil aura di fama appena giunge." + + --"Gier. Lib." iv. 19. + + 101 "The Catalogue is, perhaps, the portion of the poem in favour of + which a claim to separate authorship has been most plausibly urged. + Although the example of Homer has since rendered some such formal + enumeration of the forces engaged, a common practice in epic poems + descriptive of great warlike adventures, still so minute a + statistical detail can neither be considered as imperatively + required, nor perhaps such as would, in ordinary cases, suggest + itself to the mind of a poet. Yet there is scarcely any portion of + the Iliad where both historical and internal evidence are more + clearly in favour of a connection from the remotest period, with the + remainder of the work. The composition of the Catalogue, whensoever + it may have taken place, necessarily presumes its author's + acquaintance with a previously existing Iliad. It were impossible + otherwise to account for the harmony observable in the recurrence of + so vast a number of proper names, most of them historically + unimportant, and not a few altogether fictitious: or of so many + geographical and genealogical details as are condensed in these few + hundred lines, and incidentally scattered over the thousands which + follow: equally inexplicable were the pointed allusions occurring in + this episode to events narrated in the previous and subsequent text, + several of which could hardly be of traditional notoriety, but + through the medium of the Iliad."--Mure, "Language and Literature of + Greece," vol. i. p. 263. + + 102 --_Twice Sixty:_ "Thucydides observes that the Boeotian vessels, + which carried one hundred and twenty men each, were probably meant + to be the largest in the fleet, and those of Philoctetes, carrying + fifty each, the smallest. The average would be eighty-five, and + Thucydides supposes the troops to have rowed and navigated + themselves; and that very few, besides the chiefs, went as mere + passengers or landsmen. In short, we have in the Homeric + descriptions the complete picture of an Indian or African war canoe, + many of which are considerably larger than the largest scale + assigned to those of the Greeks. If the total number of the Greek + ships be taken at twelve hundred, according to Thucydides, although + in point of fact there are only eleven hundred and eighty-six in the + Catalogue, the amount of the army, upon the foregoing average, will + be about a hundred and two thousand men. The historian considers + this a small force as representing all Greece. Bryant, comparing it + with the allied army at Platae, thinks it so large as to prove the + entire falsehood of the whole story; and his reasonings and + calculations are, for their curiosity, well worth a careful + perusal."--Coleridge, p. 211, sq. + + 103 The mention of Corinth is an anachronism, as that city was called + Ephyre before its capture by the Dorians. But Velleius, vol. i. p. + 3, well observes, that the poet would naturally speak of various + towns and cities by the names by which they were known in his own + time. + + 104 "Adam, the goodliest man of men since born, + His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve.' + + --"Paradise Lost," iv. 323. + + 105 --_AEsetes' tomb._ Monuments were often built on the sea-coast, and of + a considerable height, so as to serve as watch-towers or land marks. + See my notes to my prose translations of the "Odyssey," ii. p. 21, + or on Eur. "Alcest." vol. i. p. 240. + + 106 --_Zeleia,_ another name for Lycia. The inhabitants were greatly + devoted to the worship of Apollo. See Muller, "Dorians," vol. i. p. + 248. + + 107 --_Barbarous tongues._ "Various as were the dialects of the + Greeks--and these differences existed not only between the several + tribes, but even between neighbouring cities--they yet acknowledged + in their language that they formed but one nation were but branches + of the same family. Homer has 'men of other tongues:' and yet Homer + had no general name for the Greek nation."--Heeren, "Ancient Greece," + Section vii. p. 107, sq. + + _ 108 The cranes._ + "Marking the tracts of air, the clamorous cranes + Wheel their due flight in varied ranks descried: + And each with outstretch'd neck his rank maintains, + In marshall'd order through th' ethereal void." + + Lorenzo de Medici, in Roscoe's Life, Appendix. + + See Cary's Dante: "Hell," canto v. + + _ 109 Silent, breathing rage._ + "Thus they, + Breathing united force with fixed thought, + Moved on in silence." + + "Paradise Lost," book i. 559. + + 110 "As when some peasant in a bushy brake + Has with unwary footing press'd a snake; + He starts aside, astonish'd, when he spies + His rising crest, blue neck, and rolling eyes" + + Dryden's Virgil, ii. 510. + + 111 Dysparis, i.e. unlucky, ill fated, Paris. This alludes to the evils + which resulted from his having been brought up, despite the omens + which attended his birth. + + 112 The following scene, in which Homer has contrived to introduce so + brilliant a sketch of the Grecian warriors, has been imitated by + Euripides, who in his "Phoenissae" represents Antigone surveying the + opposing champions from a high tower, while the paedagogus describes + their insignia and details their histories. + + 113 --_No wonder,_ &c. Zeuxis, the celebrated artist, is said to have + appended these lines to his picture of Helen, as a motto. Valer Max. + iii. 7. + + 114 The early epic was largely occupied with the exploits and sufferings + of women, or heroines, the wives and daughters of the Grecian + heroes. A nation of courageous, hardy, indefatigable women, dwelling + apart from men, permitting only a short temporary intercourse, for + the purpose of renovating their numbers, burning out their right + breast with a view of enabling themselves to draw the bow freely; + this was at once a general type, stimulating to the fancy of the + poet, and a theme eminently popular with his hearers. We find these + warlike females constantly reappearing in the ancient poems, and + universally accepted as past realities in the Iliad. When Priam + wishes to illustrate emphatically the most numerous host in which he + ever found himself included, he tells us that it was assembled in + Phrygia, on the banks of the Sangarius, for the purpose of resisting + the formidable Amazons. When Bellerophon is to be employed in a + deadly and perilous undertaking, by those who prudently wished to + procure his death, he is despatched against the Amazons.--Grote, vol. + i p. 289. + + 115 --_Antenor,_ like AEneas, had always been favourable to the + restoration of Helen. Liv 1. 2. + + 116 "His lab'ring heart with sudden rapture seized + He paus'd, and on the ground in silence gazed. + Unskill'd and uninspired he seems to stand, + Nor lifts the eye, nor graceful moves the hand: + Then, while the chiefs in still attention hung, + Pours the full tide of eloquence along; + While from his lips the melting torrent flows, + Soft as the fleeces of descending snows. + Now stronger notes engage the listening crowd, + Louder the accents rise, and yet more loud, + Like thunders rolling from a distant cloud." + + Merrick's "Tryphiodorus," 148, 99. + + 117 Duport, "Gnomol. Homer," p. 20, well observes that this comparison + may also be sarcastically applied to the _frigid_ style of oratory. + It, of course, here merely denotes the ready fluency of Ulysses. + + 118 --_Her brothers' doom._ They perished in combat with Lynceus and + Idas, whilst besieging Sparta. See Hygin. Poet Astr. 32, 22. Virgil + and others, however, make them share immortality by turns. + + 119 Idreus was the arm-bearer and charioteer of king Priam, slain during + this war. Cf. AEn, vi. 487. + + 120 --_Scaea's gates,_ rather _Scaean gates,_ _i.e._ the left-hand gates. + + 121 This was customary in all sacrifices. Hence we find Iras descending + to cut off the hair of Dido, before which she could not expire. + + 122 --_Nor pierced._ + + "This said, his feeble hand a jav'lin threw, + Which, flutt'ring, seemed to loiter as it flew, + Just, and but barely, to the mark it held, + And faintly tinkled on the brazen shield." + + Dryden's Virgil, ii. 742. + +_ 123 Reveal'd the queen._ + + "Thus having said, she turn'd and made appear + Her neck refulgent and dishevell'd hair, + Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach'd the ground, + And widely spread ambrosial scents around. + In length of train descends her sweeping gown; + And, by her graceful walk, the queen of love is known." + + Dryden's Virgil, i. 556. + + 124 --_Cranae's isle, i.e._ Athens. See the "Schol." and Alberti's + "Hesychius," vol. ii. p. 338. This name was derived from one of its + early kings, Cranaus. + + 125 --_The martial maid._ In the original, "Minerva Alalcomeneis," _i.e. + the defender,_ so called from her temple at Alalcomene in Boeotia. + + 126 "Anything for a quiet life!" + + 127 --_Argos._ The worship of Juno at Argos was very celebrated in + ancient times, and she was regarded as the patron deity of that + city. Apul. Met., vi. p. 453; Servius on Virg. AEn., i. 28. + + 128 --_A wife and sister._ + + "But I, who walk in awful state above + The majesty of heav'n, the sister-wife of Jove." + + Dryden's "Virgil," i. 70. + + So Apuleius, _l. c._ speaks of her as "Jovis germana et conjux, and + so Horace, Od. iii. 3, 64, "conjuge me Jovis et sorore." + + 129 "Thither came Uriel, gleaming through the even + On a sunbeam, swift as a shooting star + In autumn thwarts the night, when vapours fired + Impress the air, and shows the mariner + From what point of his compass to beware + Impetuous winds." + + --"Paradise Lost," iv. 555. + + 130 --_AEsepus' flood._ A river of Mysia, rising from Mount Cotyius, in + the southern part of the chain of Ida. + + 131 --_Zelia,_ a town of Troas, at the foot of Ida. + + 132 --_Podaleirius_ and _Machaon_ are the leeches of the Grecian army, + highly prized and consulted by all the wounded chiefs. Their medical + renown was further prolonged in the subsequent poem of Arktinus, the + Iliou Persis, wherein the one was represented as unrivalled in + surgical operations, the other as sagacious in detecting and + appreciating morbid symptoms. It was Podaleirius who first noticed + the glaring eyes and disturbed deportment which preceded the suicide + of Ajax. + + "Galen appears uncertain whether Asklepius (as well as Dionysus) was + originally a god, or whether he was first a man and then became + afterwards a god; but Apollodorus professed to fix the exact date of + his apotheosis. Throughout all the historical ages the descendants + of Asklepius were numerous and widely diffused. The many families or + gentes, called Asklepiads, who devoted themselves to the study and + practice of medicine, and who principally dwelt near the temples of + Asklepius, whither sick and suffering men came to obtain relief--all + recognized the god not merely as the object of their common worship, + but also as their actual progenitor."--Grote vol. i. p. 248. + + 133 "The plant she bruises with a stone, and stands + Tempering the juice between her ivory hands + This o'er her breast she sheds with sovereign art + And bathes with gentle touch the wounded part + The wound such virtue from the juice derives, + At once the blood is stanch'd, the youth revives." + + "Orlando Furioso," book 1. + + 134 --_Well might I wish._ + + "Would heav'n (said he) my strength and youth recall, + Such as I was beneath Praeneste's wall-- + Then when I made the foremost foes retire, + And set whole heaps of conquer'd shields on fire; + When Herilus in single fight I slew, + Whom with three lives Feronia did endue." + + Dryden's Virgil, viii. 742. + + 135 --_Sthenelus,_ a son of Capaneus, one of the Epigoni. He was one of + the suitors of Helen, and is said to have been one of those who + entered Troy inside the wooden horse. + + 136 --_Forwarn'd the horrors._ The same portent has already been + mentioned. To this day, modern nations are not wholly free from this + superstition. + + 137 --_Sevenfold city,_ Boeotian Thebes, which had seven gates. + + 138 --_As when the winds._ + + "Thus, when a black-brow'd gust begins to rise, + White foam at first on the curl'd ocean fries; + Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies, + Till, by the fury of the storm full blown, + The muddy billow o'er the clouds is thrown." + + Dryden's Virgil, vii. 736. + + 139 "Stood + Like Teneriffe or Atlas unremoved; + His stature reach'd the sky." + + --"Paradise Lost," iv. 986. + + 140 The Abantes seem to have been of Thracian origin. + + 141 I may, once for all, remark that Homer is most anatomically correct + as to the parts of the body in which a wound would be immediately + mortal. + + 142 --_AEnus,_ a fountain almost proverbial for its coldness. + + 143 Compare Tasso, Gier. Lib., xx. 7: + + "Nuovo favor del cielo in lui niluce + E 'l fa grande, et angusto oltre il costume. + Gl' empie d' honor la faccia, e vi riduce + Di giovinezza il bel purpureo lume." + + 144 "Or deluges, descending on the plains, + Sweep o'er the yellow year, destroy the pains + Of lab'ring oxen, and the peasant's gains; + Uproot the forest oaks, and bear away + Flocks, folds, and trees, an undistinguish'd prey." + + Dryden's Virgil ii. 408. + + 145 --_From mortal mists._ + + "But to nobler sights + Michael from Adam's eyes the film removed." + + "Paradise Lost," xi. 411. + + 146 --_The race of those._ + + "A pair of coursers, born of heav'nly breed, + Who from their nostrils breathed ethereal fire; + Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire, + By substituting mares produced on earth, + Whose wombs conceived a more than mortal birth. + + Dryden's Virgil, vii. 386, sqq. + + 147 The belief in the existence of men of larger stature in earlier + times, is by no means confined to Homer. + + 148 --_Such stream, i.e._ the _ichor,_ or blood of the gods. + + "A stream of nect'rous humour issuing flow'd, + Sanguine, such as celestial spirits may bleed." + + "Paradise Lost," vi. 339. + + 149 This was during the wars with the Titans. + + 150 --_Amphitryon's son,_ Hercules, born to Jove by Alcmena, the wife of + Amphitryon. + + 151 --_AEgiale_ daughter of Adrastus. The Cyclic poets (See Anthon's + Lempriere, _s. v._) assert Venus incited her to infidelity, in + revenge for the wound she had received from her husband. + + 152 --_Pherae,_ a town of Pelasgiotis, in Thessaly. + + 153 --_Tlepolemus,_ son of Hercules and Astyochia. Having left his native + country, Argos, in consequence of the accidental murder of + Liscymnius, he was commanded by an oracle to retire to Rhodes. Here + he was chosen king, and accompanied the Trojan expedition. After his + death, certain games were instituted at Rhodes in his honour, the + victors being rewarded with crowns of poplar. + + 154 These heroes' names have since passed into a kind of proverb, + designating the _oi polloi_ or mob. + + 155 --_Spontaneous open._ + + "Veil'd with his gorgeous wings, upspringing light + Flew through the midst of heaven; th' angelic quires, + On each hand parting, to his speed gave way + Through all th' empyreal road; till at the gate + Of heaven arrived, the gate self-open'd wide, + On golden hinges turning." + + --"Paradise Lost," v. 250. + + 156 "Till Morn, + Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand + Unbarr'd the gates of light." + + --"Paradise Lost," vi, 2. + + 157 --_Far as a shepherd._ "With what majesty and pomp does Homer exalt + his deities! He here measures the leap of the horses by the extent + of the world. And who is there, that, considering the exceeding + greatness of the space would not with reason cry out that 'If the + steeds of the deity were to take a second leap, the world would want + room for it'?"--Longinus, Section 8. + + 158 "No trumpets, or any other instruments of sound, are used in the + Homeric action itself; but the trumpet was known, and is introduced + for the purpose of illustration as employed in war. Hence arose the + value of a loud voice in a commander; Stentor was an indispensable + officer... In the early Saracen campaigns frequent mention is made + of the service rendered by men of uncommonly strong voices; the + battle of Honain was restored by the shouts and menaces of Abbas, + the uncle of Mohammed," &c.--Coleridge, p. 213. + + 159 "Long had the wav'ring god the war delay'd, + While Greece and Troy alternate own'd his aid." + + Merrick's "Tryphiodorus," vi. 761, sq. + + 160 --_Paeon_ seems to have been to the gods, what Podaleirius and + Machaon were to the Grecian heroes. + + 161 --_Arisbe,_ a colony of the Mitylenaeans in Troas. + + 162 --_Pedasus,_ a town near Pylos. + + 163 --_Rich heaps of brass._ "The halls of Alkinous and Menelaus glitter + with gold, copper, and electrum; while large stocks of yet + unemployed metal--gold, copper, and iron are stored up in the + treasure-chamber of Odysseus and other chiefs. Coined money is + unknown in the Homeric age--the trade carried on being one of barter. + In reference also to the metals, it deserves to be remarked, that + the Homeric descriptions universally suppose copper, and not iron, + to be employed for arms, both offensive and defensive. By what + process the copper was tempered and hardened, so as to serve the + purpose of the warrior, we do not know; but the use of iron for + these objects belongs to a later age."--Grote, vol. ii. p. 142. + + 164 --_Oh impotent,_ &c. "In battle, quarter seems never to have been + given, except with a view to the ransom of the prisoner. Agamemnon + reproaches Menelaus with unmanly softness, when he is on the point + of sparing a fallen enemy, and himself puts the suppliant to the + sword."--Thirlwall, vol. i. p. 181 + + 165 "The ruthless steel, impatient of delay, + Forbade the sire to linger out the day. + It struck the bending father to the earth, + And cropt the wailing infant at the birth. + Can innocents the rage of parties know, + And they who ne'er offended find a foe?" + + Rowe's Lucan, bk. ii. + + 166 "Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress'd with woe, + To Pallas' fane in long procession go, + In hopes to reconcile their heav'nly foe: + They weep; they beat their breasts; they rend their hair, + And rich embroider'd vests for presents bear." + + Dryden's Virgil, i. 670 + + 167 The manner in which this episode is introduced, is well illustrated + by the following remarks of Mure, vol. i. p.298: "The poet's method + of introducing his episode, also, illustrates in a curious manner + his tact in the dramatic department of his art. Where, for example, + one or more heroes are despatched on some commission, to be executed + at a certain distance of time or place, the fulfilment of this task + is not, as a general rule, immediately described. A certain interval + is allowed them for reaching the appointed scene of action, which + interval is dramatised, as it were, either by a temporary + continuation of the previous narrative, or by fixing attention for a + while on some new transaction, at the close of which the further + account of the mission is resumed." + + 168 --_With tablets sealed._ These probably were only devices of a + hieroglyphical character. Whether writing was known in the Homeric + times is utterly uncertain. See Grote, vol ii. p. 192, sqq. + + 169 --_Solymaean crew,_ a people of Lycia. + + 170 From this "melancholy madness" of Bellerophon, hypochondria received + the name of "Morbus Bellerophonteus." See my notes in my prose + translation, p. 112. The "Aleian field," _i.e._ "the plain of + wandering," was situated between the rivers Pyramus and Pinarus, in + Cilicia. + + 171 --_His own, of gold._ This bad bargain has passed into a common + proverb. See Aulus Gellius, ii, 23. + + 172 --_Scaean, i e._ left hand. + + 173 --_In fifty chambers._ + + "The fifty nuptial beds, (such hopes had he, + So large a promise of a progeny,) + The ports of plated gold, and hung with spoils." + + Dryden's Virgil, ii.658 + + 174 --_O would kind earth,_ &c. "It is apparently a sudden, irregular + burst of popular indignation to which Hector alludes, when he + regrets that the Trojans had not spirit enough to cover Paris with a + mantle of stones. This, however, was also one of the ordinary formal + modes of punishment for great public offences. It may have been + originally connected with the same feeling--the desire of avoiding + the pollution of bloodshed--which seems to have suggested the + practice of burying prisoners alive, with a scantling of food by + their side. Though Homer makes no mention of this horrible usage, + the example of the Roman Vestals affords reasons for believing that, + in ascribing it to the heroic ages, Sophocles followed an authentic + tradition."--Thirlwall's Greece, vol. i. p. 171, sq. + + 175 --_Paris' lofty dome._ "With respect to the private dwellings, which + are oftenest described, the poet's language barely enables us to + form a general notion of their ordinary plan, and affords no + conception of the style which prevailed in them or of their effect + on the eye. It seems indeed probable, from the manner in which he + dwells on their metallic ornaments that the higher beauty of + proportion was but little required or understood, and it is, + perhaps, strength and convenience, rather than elegance, that he + means to commend, in speaking of the fair house which Paris had + built for himself with the aid of the most skilful masons of + Troy."--Thirlwall's Greece, vol. i. p. 231. + + 176 --_The wanton courser._ + + "Come destrier, che da le regie stalle + Ove a l'usa de l'arme si riserba, + Fugge, e libero al fiu per largo calle + Va tragl' armenti, o al fiume usato, o a l'herba." + + Gier, Lib. ix. 75. + + 177 --_Casque._ The original word is stephanae, about the meaning of + which there is some little doubt. Some take it for a different kind + of cap or helmet, others for the rim, others for the cone, of the + helmet. + + 178 --_Athenian maid:_ Minerva. + + 179 --_Celadon,_ a river of Elis. + + 180 --_Oileus, i.e._ Ajax, the son of Oileus, in contradistinction to + Ajax, son of Telamon. + + 181 --_In the general's helm._ It was customary to put the lots into a + helmet, in which they were well shaken up; each man then took his + choice. + + 182 --_God of Thrace._ Mars, or Mavors, according to his Thracian + epithet. Hence "Mavortia Moenia." + + 183 --_Grimly he smiled._ + + "And death + Grinn'd horribly a ghastly smile." + + --"Paradise Lost," ii. 845. + + "There Mavors stands + Grinning with ghastly feature." + + --Carey's Dante: Hell, v. + + 184 "Sete o guerrieri, incomincio Pindoro, + Con pari honor di pari ambo possenti, + Dunque cessi la pugna, e non sian rotte + Le ragioni, e 'l riposo, e de la notte." + + --Gier. Lib. vi. 51. + + 185 It was an ancient style of compliment to give a larger portion of + food to the conqueror, or person to whom respect was to be shown. + See Virg. AEn. viii. 181. Thus Benjamin was honoured with a "double + portion." Gen. xliii. 34. + + 186 --_Embattled walls._ "Another essential basis of mechanical unity in + the poem is the construction of the rampart. This takes place in the + seventh book. The reason ascribed for the glaring improbability that + the Greeks should have left their camp and fleet unfortified during + nine years, in the midst of a hostile country, is a purely poetical + one: 'So long as Achilles fought, the terror of his name sufficed to + keep every foe at a distance.' The disasters consequent on his + secession first led to the necessity of other means of protection. + Accordingly, in the battles previous to the eighth book, no allusion + occurs to a rampart; in all those which follow it forms a prominent + feature. Here, then, in the anomaly as in the propriety of the + Iliad, the destiny of Achilles, or rather this peculiar crisis of + it, forms the pervading bond of connexion to the whole poem."--Mure, + vol. i., p. 257. + + 187 --_What cause of fear,_ &c. + + "Seest thou not this? Or do we fear in vain + Thy boasted thunders, and thy thoughtless reign?" + + Dryden's Virgil, iv. 304. + + 188 --_In exchange._ These lines are referred to by Theophilus, the Roman + lawyer, iii. tit. xxiii. Section 1, as exhibiting the most ancient + mention of barter. + + 189 "A similar bond of connexion, in the military details of the + narrative, is the decree issued by Jupiter, at the commencement of + the eighth book, against any further interference of the gods in the + battles. In the opening of the twentieth book this interdict is + withdrawn. During the twelve intermediate books it is kept steadily + in view. No interposition takes place but on the part of the + specially authorised agents of Jove, or on that of one or two + contumacious deities, described as boldly setting his commands at + defiance, but checked and reprimanded for their disobedience; while + the other divine warriors, who in the previous and subsequent cantos + are so active in support of their favourite heroes, repeatedly + allude to the supreme edict as the cause of their present + inactivity."--Mure, vol. i. p 257. See however, Muller, "Greek + Literature," ch. v. Section 6, and Grote, vol. ii. p. 252. + + 190 "As far removed from God and light of heaven, + As from the centre thrice to th' utmost pole." + + --"Paradise Lost." + + "E quanto e da le stelle al basso inferno, + Tanto e piu in su de la stellata spera" + + --Gier. Lib. i. 7. + + "Some of the epithets which Homer applies to the heavens seem to + imply that he considered it as a solid vault of metal. But it is not + necessary to construe these epithets so literally, nor to draw any + such inference from his description of Atlas, who holds the lofty + pillars which keep earth and heaven asunder. Yet it would seem, from + the manner in which the height of heaven is compared with the depth + of Tartarus, that the region of light was thought to have certain + bounds. The summit of the Thessalian Olympus was regarded as the + highest point on the earth, and it is not always carefully + distinguished from the aerian regions above The idea of a seat of + the gods--perhaps derived from a more ancient tradition, in which it + was not attached to any geographical site--seems to be indistinctly + blended in the poet's mind with that of the real + mountain."--Thirlwall's Greece, vol. i. p. 217, sq. + + 191 "Now lately heav'n, earth, another world + Hung e'er my realm, link'd in a golden chain + To that side heav'n." + + --"Paradise Lost," ii. 1004. + + 192 --_His golden scales._ + + "Jove now, sole arbiter of peace and war, + Held forth the fatal balance from afar: + Each host he weighs; by turns they both prevail, + Till Troy descending fix'd the doubtful scale." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, v 687, sqq. + + "Th' Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray, + Hung forth in heav'n his golden scales, + Wherein all things created first he weighed; + The pendulous round earth, with balanced air + In counterpoise; now ponders all events, + Battles and realms. In these he puts two weights, + The sequel each of parting and of fight: + The latter quick up flew, and kick'd the beam." + + "Paradise Lost," iv. 496. + + 193 --_And now,_ &c. + + "And now all heaven + Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspread; + Had not th' Almighty Father, where he sits + ... foreseen." + + --"Paradise Lost," vi. 669. + + 194 --_Gerenian Nestor._ The epithet _Gerenian_ either refers to the name + of a place in which Nestor was educated, or merely signifies + honoured, revered. See Schol. Venet. in II. B. 336; Strabo, viii. p. + 340. + + 195 --_AEgae, Helice._ Both these towns were conspicuous for their worship + of Neptune. + + 196 --_As full blown,_ &c. + + "Il suo Lesbia quasi bel fior succiso, + E in atto si gentil languir tremanti + Gl' occhi, e cader siu 'l tergo il collo mira." + + Gier. Lib. ix. 85. + + 197 --_Ungrateful,_ because the cause in which they were engaged was + unjust. + + "Struck by the lab'ring priests' uplifted hands + The victims fall: to heav'n they make their pray'r, + The curling vapours load the ambient air. + But vain their toil: the pow'rs who rule the skies + Averse beheld the ungrateful sacrifice." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, vi. 527, sqq. + + 198 "As when about the silver moon, when aire is free from + winde, + And stars shine cleare, to whose sweet beams high prospects on the + brows + Of all steepe hills and pinnacles thrust up themselves for shows, + And even the lowly valleys joy to glitter in their sight; + When the unmeasured firmament bursts to disclose her light, + And all the signs in heaven are seene, that glad the shepherd's + heart." + + Chapman. + + 199 This flight of the Greeks, according to Buttmann, Lexil. p. 358, was + not a supernatural flight caused by the gods, but "a great and + general one, caused by Hector and the Trojans, but with the approval + of Jove." + + 200 Grote, vol. ii. p. 91, after noticing the modest calmness and + respect with which Nestor addresses Agamemnon, observes, "The + Homeric Council is a purely consultative body, assembled not with + any power of peremptorily arresting mischievous resolves of the + king, but solely for his information and guidance." + + 201 In the heroic times, it is not unfrequent for the king to receive + presents to purchase freedom from his wrath, or immunity from his + exactions. Such gifts gradually became regular, and formed the + income of the German, (Tacit. Germ. Section 15) Persian, (Herodot. + iii.89), and other kings. So, too, in the middle ages, 'The feudal + aids are the beginning of taxation, of which they for a long time + answered the purpose.' (Hallam, Middle Ages, ch. x. pt. 1, p. 189) + This fact frees Achilles from the apparent charge of sordidness. + Plato, however, (De Rep. vi. 4), says, "We cannot commend Phoenix, + the tutor of Achilles, as if he spoke correctly, when counselling + him to accept of presents and assist the Greeks, but, without + presents, not to desist from his wrath, nor again, should we commend + Achilles himself, or approve of his being so covetous as to receive + presents from Agamemnon," &c. + + 202 It may be observed, that, brief as is the mention of Briseis in the + Iliad, and small the part she plays--what little is said is + pre-eminently calculated to enhance her fitness to be the bride of + Achilles. Purity, and retiring delicacy, are features well + contrasted with the rough, but tender disposition of the hero. + + 203 --_Laodice._ Iphianassa, or Iphigenia, is not mentioned by Homer, + among the daughters of Agamemnon. + + 204 "Agamemnon, when he offers to transfer to Achilles seven towns + inhabited by wealthy husbandmen, who would enrich their lord by + presents and tribute, seems likewise to assume rather a property in + them, than an authority over them. And the same thing may be + intimated when it is said that Peleus bestowed a great people, the + Dolopes of Phthia, on Phoenix."--Thirlwall's Greece, vol. i Section + 6, p. 162, note. + + 205 --_Pray in deep silence._ Rather: "use well-omened words;" or, as + Kennedy has explained it, "Abstain from expressions unsuitable to + the solemnity of the occasion, which, by offending the god, might + defeat the object of their supplications." + + 206 --_Purest hands._ This is one of the most ancient superstitions + respecting prayer, and one founded as much in nature as in + tradition. + + 207 It must be recollected, that the war at Troy was not a settled + siege, and that many of the chieftains busied themselves in + piratical expeditions about its neighborhood. Such a one was that of + which Achilles now speaks. From the following verses, it is evident + that fruits of these maraudings went to the common support of the + expedition, and not to the successful plunderer. + + 208 --_Pthia,_ the capital of Achilles' Thessalian domains. + + 209 --_Orchomenian town._ The topography of Orchomenus, in Boeotia, + "situated," as it was, "on the northern bank of the lake AEpais, + which receives not only the river Cephisus from the valleys of + Phocis, but also other rivers from Parnassus and Helicon" (Grote, + vol. p. 181), was a sufficient reason for its prosperity and decay. + "As long as the channels of these waters were diligently watched and + kept clear, a large portion of the lake was in the condition of + alluvial land, pre-eminently rich and fertile. But when the channels + came to be either neglected, or designedly choked up by an enemy, + the water accumulated in such a degree as to occupy the soil of more + than one ancient islet, and to occasion the change of the site of + Orchomenus itself from the plain to the declivity of Mount + Hyphanteion." (Ibid.) + + 210 The phrase "hundred gates," &c., seems to be merely expressive of a + great number. See notes to my prose translation, p. 162. + + 211 Compare the following pretty lines of Quintus Calaber (Dyce's Select + Translations, p 88).-- + + "Many gifts he gave, and o'er + Dolopia bade me rule; thee in his arms + He brought an infant, on my bosom laid + The precious charge, and anxiously enjoin'd + That I should rear thee as my own with all + A parent's love. I fail'd not in my trust + And oft, while round my neck thy hands were lock'd, + From thy sweet lips the half articulate sound + Of Father came; and oft, as children use, + Mewling and puking didst thou drench my tunic." + + "This description," observes my learned friend (notes, p. 121) "is + taken from the passage of Homer, II ix, in translating which, Pope, + with that squeamish, artificial taste, which distinguished the age + of Anne, omits the natural (and, let me add, affecting) + circumstance." + + "And the wine + Held to thy lips, and many a time in fits + Of infant frowardness the purple juice + Rejecting thou hast deluged all my vest, + And fill'd my bosom." + + --Cowper. + + 212 --_Where Calydon._ For a good sketch of the story of Meleager, too + long to be inserted here, see Grote, vol. i. p. 195, sqq.; and for + the authorities, see my notes to the prose translation, p. 166. + + 213 "_Gifts can conquer_"--It is well observed by Bishop Thirlwall, + "Greece," vol. i. p, 180, that the law of honour among the Greeks + did not compel them to treasure up in their memory the offensive + language which might be addressed to them by a passionate adversary, + nor to conceive that it left a stain which could only be washed away + by blood. Even for real and deep injuries they were commonly willing + to accept a pecuniary compensation." + + 214 "The boon of sleep."--Milton + + 215 "All else of nature's common gift partake: + Unhappy Dido was alone awake." + + --Dryden's Virgil, iv. 767. + + 216 --_The king of Crete:_ Idomeneus. + + 217 --_Soft wool within, i e._ a kind of woollen stuffing, pressed in + between the straps, to protect the head, and make the helmet fit + close. + + 218 "All the circumstances of this action--the night, Rhesus buried in a + profound sleep, and Diomede with the sword in his hand hanging over + the head of that prince--furnished Homer with the idea of this + fiction, which represents Rhesus lying fast asleep, and, as it were, + beholding his enemy in a dream, plunging the sword into his bosom. + This image is very natural; for a man in his condition awakes no + farther than to see confusedly what environs him, and to think it + not a reality but a dream."--Pope. + + "There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cry'd murder; + They wak'd each other." + + --_Macbeth._ + + 219 "Aurora now had left her saffron bed, + And beams of early light the heavens o'erspread." + + Dryden's Virgil, iv. 639 + + 220 --_Red drops of blood._ "This phenomenon, if a mere fruit of the + poet's imagination, might seem arbitrary or far-fetched. It is one, + however, of ascertained reality, and of no uncommon occurrence in + the climate of Greece."--Mure, i p. 493. Cf. Tasso, Gier. Lib. ix. + 15: + + "La terra in vece del notturno gelo + Bagnan rugiade tepide, e sanguigne." + + 221 "No thought of flight, + None of retreat, no unbecoming deed + That argued fear." + + --"Paradise Lost," vi. 236. + + 222 --_One of love._ Although a bastard brother received only a small + portion of the inheritance, he was commonly very well treated. Priam + appears to be the only one of whom polygamy is directly asserted in + the Iliad. Grote, vol. ii. p. 114, note. + + 223 "Circled with foes as when a packe of bloodie jackals cling + About a goodly palmed hart, hurt with a hunter's bow + Whose escape his nimble feet insure, whilst his warm blood doth + flow, + And his light knees have power to move: but (maistred by his + wound) + Embost within a shady hill, the jackals charge him round, + And teare his flesh--when instantly fortune sends in the powers + Of some sterne lion, with whose sighte they flie and he devours. + So they around Ulysses prest." + + --Chapman. + + 224 --_Simois, railing,_ &c. + + "In those bloody fields + Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields + Of heroes." + + --Dryden's Virgil, i. 142. + + 225 "Where yon disorder'd heap of ruin lies, + Stones rent from stones,--where clouds of dust arise,-- + Amid that smother, Neptune holds his place, + Below the wall's foundation drives his mace, + And heaves the building from the solid base." + + Dryden's Virgil, ii. 825. + + 226 --_Why boast we._ + + "Wherefore do I assume + These royalties and not refuse to reign, + Refusing to accept as great a share + Of hazard as of honour, due alike to him + Who reigns, and so much to him due + Of hazard more, as he above the rest + High honour'd sits." + + --"Paradise Lost," ii. 450. + + 227 --_Each equal weight._ + + "Long time in even scale + The battle hung." + + --"Paradise Lost," vi. 245. + + 228 "He on his impious foes right onward drove, + _Gloomy as night._" + + --"Paradise Lost," vi. 831 + + 229 --_Renown'd for justice and for length of days,_ Arrian. de Exp. + Alex. iv. p. 239, also speaks of the independence of these people, + which he regards as the result of their poverty and uprightness. + Some authors have regarded the phrase "Hippomolgian," _i.e._ + "milking their mares," as an epithet applicable to numerous tribes, + since the oldest of the Samatian nomads made their mares' milk one + of their chief articles of diet. The epithet abion or abion, in this + passage, has occasioned much discussion. It may mean, according as + we read it, either "long-lived," or "bowless," the latter epithet + indicating that they did not depend upon archery for subsistence. + + 230 Compare Chapman's quaint, bold verses:-- + + "And as a round piece of a rocke, which with a winter's flood + Is from his top torn, when a shoure poured from a bursten cloud, + Hath broke the naturall band it had within the roughftey rock, + Flies jumping all adourne the woods, resounding everie shocke, + And on, uncheckt, it headlong leaps till in a plaine it stay, + And then (tho' never so impelled), it stirs not any way:-- + So Hector,--" + + 231 This book forms a most agreeable interruption to The continuous + round of battles, which occupy the latter part of the Iliad. It is + as well to observe, that the sameness of these scenes renders many + notes unnecessary. + + 232 --_Who to Tydeus owes, i.e._ Diomed. + + 233 Compare Tasso:-- + + Teneri sdegni, e placide, e tranquille + Repulse, e cari vezzi, e liete paci, + Sorrisi, parolette, e dolci stille + Di pianto, e sospir tronchi, e molli baci." + + Gier. Lib. xvi. 25 + + 234 Compare the description of the dwelling of Sleep in Orlando Furioso, + bk. vi. + + 235 "Twice seven, the charming daughters of the main-- + Around my person wait, and bear my train: + Succeed my wish, and second my design, + The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine." + + Dryden's Virgil, AEn. i. 107, seq. + + 236 --_And Minos._ "By Homer, Minos is described as the son of Jupiter, + and of the daughter of Phoenix, whom all succeeding authors name + Europa; and he is thus carried back into the remotest period of + Cretan antiquity known to the poet, apparently as a native hero, + Illustrious enough for a divine parentage, and too ancient to allow + his descent to be traced to any other source. But in a genealogy + recorded by later writers, he is likewise the adopted son of + Asterius, as descendant of Dorus, the son of Helen, and is thus + connected with a colony said to have been led into Creta by + Tentamus, or Tectamus, son of Dorus, who is related either to have + crossed over from Thessaly, or to have embarked at Malea after + having led his followers by land into Laconia."--Thirlwall, p. 136, + seq. + + 237 Milton has emulated this passage, in describing the couch of our + first parents:-- + + "Underneath the violet, + Crocus, and hyacinth with rich inlay, + 'Broider'd the ground." + + --"Paradise Lost," iv. 700. + + 238 --_He lies protected,_ + + "Forthwith on all sides to his aid was run + By angels many and strong, who interpos'd + Defence, while others bore him on their shields + Back to his chariot, where it stood retir'd + From off the files of war; there they him laid, + Gnashing for anguish, and despite, and shame." + + "Paradise Lost," vi. 335, seq. + + 239 --_The brazen dome._ See the note on Bk. viii. Page 142. + + 240 --_For, by the gods! who flies._ Observe the bold ellipsis of "he + cries," and the transition from the direct to the oblique + construction. So in Milton:-- + + "Thus at their shady lodge arriv'd, both stood, + Both turn'd, and under open sky ador'd + The God that made both sky, air, earth, and heaven, + Which they beheld, the moon's resplendent globe, + And starry pole.--Thou also mad'st the night, + Maker omnipotent, and thou the day." + + Milton, "Paradise Lost," Book iv. + + 241 --_So some tall rock._ + + "But like a rock unmov'd, a rock that braves + The raging tempest, and the rising waves-- + Propp'd on himself he stands: his solid sides + Wash off the sea-weeds, and the sounding tides." + + Dryden's Virgil, vii. 809. + + 242 Protesilaus was the first Greek who fell, slain by Hector, as he + leaped from the vessel to the Trojan shore. He was buried on the + Chersonese, near the city of Plagusa. Hygin Fab. ciii. Tzetz. on + Lycophr. 245, 528. There is a most elegant tribute to his memory in + the Preface to the Heroica of Philostratus. + + 243 --_His best beloved._ The following elegant remarks of Thirlwall + (Greece, vol. i, p. 176 seq.) well illustrate the character of the + friendship subsisting between these two heroes-- + + "One of the noblest and most amiable sides of the Greek character, + is the readiness with which it lent itself to construct intimate and + durable friendships, and this is a feature no less prominent in the + earliest than in later times. It was indeed connected with the + comparatively low estimation in which female society was held; but + the devotedness and constancy with which these attachments were + maintained, was not the less admirable and engaging. The heroic + companions whom we find celebrated partly by Homer and partly in + traditions which, if not of equal antiquity, were grounded on the + same feeling, seem to have but one heart and soul, with scarcely a + wish or object apart, and only to live as they are always ready to + die for one another. It is true that the relation between them is + not always one of perfect equality; but this is a circumstance + which, while it often adds a peculiar charm to the poetical + description, detracts little from the dignity of the idea which it + presents. Such were the friendships of Hercules and Iolaus, of + Theseus and Pirithous, of Orestes and Pylades; and though These may + owe the greater part of their fame to the later epic or even + dramatic poetry, the moral groundwork undoubtedly subsisted in the + period to which the traditions are referred. The argument of the + Iliad mainly turns on the affection of Achilles for Patroclus, whose + love for the greater hero is only tempered by reverence for his + higher birth and his unequalled prowess. But the mutual regard which + united Idomeneus and Meriones, Diomedes and Sthenelus, though, as + the persons themselves are less important, it is kept more in the + back-ground, is manifestly viewed by the poet in the same light. The + idea of a Greek hero seems not to have been thought complete, + without such a brother in arms by his side."--Thirlwall, Greece, vol. + i. p. 176, seq. + + 244 "As hungry wolves with raging appetite, + Scour through the fields, ne'er fear the stormy night-- + Their whelps at home expect the promised food, + And long to temper their dry chaps in blood-- + So rush'd we forth at once." + + --Dryden's Virgil, ii. 479. + + 245 --_The destinies ordain._--"In the mythology, also, of the Iliad, + purely Pagan as it is, we discover one important truth unconsciously + involved, which was almost entirely lost from view amidst the nearly + equal scepticism and credulity of subsequent ages. Zeus or Jupiter + is popularly to be taken as omnipotent. No distinct empire is + assigned to fate or fortune; the will of the father of gods and men + is absolute and uncontrollable. This seems to be the true character + of the Homeric deity, and it is very necessary that the student of + Greek literature should bear it constantly in mind. A strong + instance in the Iliad itself to illustrate this position, is the + passage where Jupiter laments to Juno the approaching death of + Sarpedon. 'Alas me!' says he 'since it is fated (moira) that + Sarpedon, dearest to me of men, should be slain by Patroclus, the + son of Menoetius! Indeed, my heart is divided within me while I + ruminate it in my mind, whether having snatched him up from out of + the lamentable battle, I should not at once place him alive in the + fertile land of his own Lycia, or whether I should now destroy him + by the hands of the son of Menoetius!' To which Juno answers--'Dost + thou mean to rescue from death a mortal man, long since destined by + fate (palai pepromenon)? You may do it--but we, the rest of the gods, + do not sanction it.' Here it is clear from both speakers, that + although Sarpedon is said to be fated to die, Jupiter might still, + if he pleased, save him, and place him entirely out of the reach of + any such event, and further, in the alternative, that Jupiter + himself would destroy him by the hands of another."--Coleridge, p. + 156. seq. + + 246 --_Thrice at the battlements._ "The art military of the Homeric age + is upon a level with the state of navigation just described, + personal prowess decided every thing; the night attack and the + ambuscade, although much esteemed, were never upon a large scale. + The chiefs fight in advance, and enact almost as much as the knights + of romance. The siege of Troy was as little like a modern siege as a + captain in the guards is like Achilles. There is no mention of a + ditch or any other line or work round the town, and the wall itself + was accessible without a ladder. It was probably a vast mound of + earth with a declivity outwards. Patroclus thrice mounts it in + armour. The Trojans are in no respects blockaded, and receive + assistance from their allies to the very end."--Coleridge, p. 212. + + 247 --_Ciconians._--A people of Thrace, near the Hebrus. + + 248 --_They wept._ + + "Fast by the manger stands the inactive steed, + And, sunk in sorrow, hangs his languid head; + He stands, and careless of his golden grain, + Weeps his associates and his master slain." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, v. 18-24. + + "Nothing is heard upon the mountains now, + But pensive herds that for their master low, + Straggling and comfortless about they rove, + Unmindful of their pasture and their love." + + Moschus, id. 3, parodied, _ibid._ + + "To close the pomp, AEthon, the steed of state, + Is led, the funeral of his lord to wait. + Stripp'd of his trappings, with a sullen pace + He walks, and the big tears run rolling down his face." + + Dryden's Virgil, bk. ii + + 249 --_Some brawny bull._ + + "Like to a bull, that with impetuous spring + Darts, at the moment when the fatal blow + Hath struck him, but unable to proceed + Plunges on either side." + + --Carey's Dante: Hell, c. xii. + + 250 This is connected with the earlier part of last book, the regular + narrative being interrupted by the message of Antilochus and the + lamentations of Achilles. + + 251 --_Far in the deep._ So Oceanus hears the lamentations of Prometheus, + in the play of AEschylus, and comes from the depths of the sea to + comfort him. + + 252 Opuntia, a city of Locris. + + 253 Quintus Calaber, lib. v., has attempted to rival Homer in his + description of the shield of the same hero. A few extracts from Mr. + Dyce's version (Select Translations, p. 104, seq.) may here be + introduced. + + "In the wide circle of the shield were seen + Refulgent images of various forms, + The work of Vulcan; who had there described + The heaven, the ether, and the earth and sea, + The winds, the clouds, the moon, the sun, apart + In different stations; and you there might view + The stars that gem the still-revolving heaven, + And, under them, the vast expanse of air, + In which, with outstretch'd wings, the long-beak'd bird + Winnow'd the gale, as if instinct with life. + Around the shield the waves of ocean flow'd, + The realms of Tethys, which unnumber'd streams, + In azure mazes rolling o'er the earth, + Seem'd to augment." + + 254 --_On seats of stone._ "Several of the old northern Sagas represent + the old men assembled for the purpose of judging as sitting on great + stones, in a circle called the Urtheilsring or gerichtsring"-- Grote, + ii. p. 100, note. On the independence of the judicial office in The + heroic times, see Thirlwall's Greece, vol. i. p. 166. + + 255 --_Another part,_ &c. + + "And here + Were horrid wars depicted; grimly pale + Were heroes lying with their slaughter'd steeds + Upon the ground incarnadin'd with blood. + Stern stalked Bellona, smear'd with reeking gore, + Through charging ranks; beside her Rout was seen, + And Terror, Discord to the fatal strife + Inciting men, and Furies breathing flames: + Nor absent were the Fates, and the tall shape + Of ghastly Death, round whom did Battles throng, + Their limbs distilling plenteous blood and sweat; + And Gorgons, whose long locks were twisting snakes. + That shot their forky tongues incessant forth. + Such were the horrors of dire war." + + --Dyce's Calaber. + + 256 --_A field deep furrowed._ + + "Here was a corn field; reapers in a row, + Each with a sharp-tooth'd sickle in his hand, + Work'd busily, and, as the harvest fell, + Others were ready still to bind the sheaves: + Yoked to a wain that bore the corn away + The steers were moving; sturdy bullocks here + The plough were drawing, and the furrow'd glebe + Was black behind them, while with goading wand + The active youths impell'd them. Here a feast + Was graved: to the shrill pipe and ringing lyre + A band of blooming virgins led the dance. + As if endued with life." + + --Dyce's Calaber. + + 257 Coleridge (Greek Classic Poets, p. 182, seq.) has diligently + compared this with the description of the shield of Hercules by + Hesiod. He remarks that, "with two or three exceptions, the imagery + differs in little more than the names and arrangements; and the + difference of arrangement in the Shield of Hercules is altogether + for the worse. The natural consecution of the Homeric images needs + no exposition: it constitutes in itself one of the beauties of the + work. The Hesiodic images are huddled together without connection or + congruity: Mars and Pallas are awkwardly introduced among the + Centaurs and Lapithae;-- but the gap is wide indeed between them and + Apollo with the Muses, waking the echoes of Olympus to celestial + harmonies; whence however, we are hurried back to Perseus, the + Gorgons, and other images of war, over an arm of the sea, in which + the sporting dolphins, the fugitive fishes, and the fisherman on the + shore with his casting net, are minutely represented. As to the + Hesiodic images themselves, the leading remark is, that they catch + at beauty by ornament, and at sublimity by exaggeration; and upon + the untenable supposition of the genuineness of this poem, there is + this curious peculiarity, that, in the description of scenes of + rustic peace, the superiority of Homer is decisive--while in those of + war and tumult it may be thought, perhaps, that the Hesiodic poet + has more than once the advantage." + + 258 "This legend is one of the most pregnant and characteristic in the + Grecian Mythology; it explains, according to the religious ideas + familiar to the old epic poets, both the distinguishing attributes + and the endless toil and endurances of Heracles, the most renowned + subjugator of all the semi-divine personages worshipped by the + Hellenes,--a being of irresistible force, and especially beloved by + Zeus, yet condemned constantly to labour for others and to obey the + commands of a worthless and cowardly persecutor. His recompense is + reserved to the close of his career, when his afflicting trials are + brought to a close: he is then admitted to the godhead, and receives + in marriage Hebe."--Grote, vol. i. p. 128. + + 259 --_Ambrosia._ + + "The blue-eyed maid, + In ev'ry breast new vigour to infuse. + Brings nectar temper'd with ambrosial dews." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, vi. 249. + + 260 "Hell is naked before him, and destruction hath no covering. He + stretcheth out the north over the empty place, and hangeth the earth + upon nothing. He bindeth up the waters in his thick clouds; and the + cloud is not rent under them." Job xxvi. 6-8. + + 261 "Swift from his throne the infernal monarch ran, + All pale and trembling, lest the race of man, + Slain by Jove's wrath, and led by Hermes' rod, + Should fill (a countless throng!) his dark abode." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, vi. 769, sqq. + + 262 These words seem to imply the old belief, that the Fates might be + delayed, but never wholly set aside. + + 263 It was anciently believed that it was dangerous, if not fatal, to + behold a deity. See Exod. xxxiii. 20; Judg. xiii. 22. + + 264 "Ere Ilium and the Trojan tow'rs arose, + In humble vales they built their soft abodes." + + Dryden's Virgil, iii. 150. + + 265 --_Along the level seas._ Compare Virgil's description of Camilla, + who + + "Outstripp'd the winds in speed upon the plain, + Flew o'er the field, nor hurt the bearded grain: + She swept the seas, and, as she skimm'd along, + Her flying feet unbathed on billows hung." + + Dryden, vii. 1100. + + 266 --_The future father._ "AEneas and Antenor stand distinguished from + the other Trojans by a dissatisfaction with Priam, and a sympathy + with the Greeks, which is by Sophocles and others construed as + treacherous collusion,--a suspicion indirectly glanced at, though + emphatically repelled, in the AEneas of Virgil."--Grote, i. p. 427. + + 267 Neptune thus recounts his services to AEneas: + + "When your AEneas fought, but fought with odds + Of force unequal, and unequal gods: + I spread a cloud before the victor's sight, + Sustain'd the vanquish'd, and secured his flight-- + Even then secured him, when I sought with joy + The vow'd destruction of ungrateful Troy." + + Dryden's Virgil, v. 1058. + + 268 --_On Polydore._ Euripides, Virgil, and others, relate that Polydore + was sent into Thrace, to the house of Polymestor, for protection, + being the youngest of Priam's sons, and that he was treacherously + murdered by his host for the sake of the treasure sent with him. + + 269 "Perhaps the boldest excursion of Homer into this region of poetical + fancy is the collision into which, in the twenty-first of the Iliad, + he has brought the river god Scamander, first with Achilles, and + afterwards with Vulcan, when summoned by Juno to the hero's aid. The + overwhelming fury of the stream finds the natural interpretation in + the character of the mountain torrents of Greece and Asia Minor. + Their wide, shingly beds are in summer comparatively dry, so as to + be easily forded by the foot passenger. But a thunder-shower in the + mountains, unobserved perhaps by the traveller on the plain, may + suddenly immerse him in the flood of a mighty river. The rescue of + Achilles by the fiery arms of Vulcan scarcely admits of the same + ready explanation from physical causes. Yet the subsiding of the + flood at the critical moment when the hero's destruction appeared + imminent, might, by a slight extension of the figurative parallel, + be ascribed to a god symbolic of the influences opposed to all + atmospheric moisture."--Mure, vol. i. p. 480, sq. + + 270 Wood has observed, that "the circumstance of a falling tree, which + is described as reaching from one of its banks to the other, affords + a very just idea of the breadth of the Scamander." + + 271 --_Ignominious._ Drowning, as compared with a death in the field of + battle, was considered utterly disgraceful. + + 272 --_Beneath a caldron._ + + "So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries, + The bubbling waters from the bottom rise. + Above the brims they force their fiery way; + Black vapours climb aloft, and cloud the day." + + Dryden's Virgil, vii. 644. + + 273 "This tale of the temporary servitude of particular gods, by order + of Jove, as a punishment for misbehaviour, recurs not unfrequently + among the incidents of the Mythical world."--Grote, vol. i. p. 156. + + 274 --_Not half so dreadful._ + + "On the other side, + Incensed with indignation, Satan stood + Unterrified, and like a comet burn'd, + That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge + In the arctic sky, and from his horrid hair + Shakes pestilence and war." + + --Paradise Lost," xi. 708. + + 275 "And thus his own undaunted mind explores."--"Paradise Lost," vi. + 113. + + 276 The example of Nausicaa, in the Odyssey, proves that the duties of + the laundry were not thought derogatory, even from the dignity of a + princess, in the heroic times. + + 277 --_Hesper shines with keener light._ + + "Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, + If better thou belong not to the dawn." + + "Paradise Lost," v. 166. + + 278 Such was his fate. After chasing the Trojans into the town, he was + slain by an arrow from the quiver of Paris, directed under the + unerring auspices of Apollo. The greatest efforts were made by the + Trojans to possess themselves of the body, which was however rescued + and borne off to the Grecian camp by the valour of Ajax and Ulysses. + Thetis stole away the body, just as the Greeks were about to burn it + with funeral honours, and conveyed it away to a renewed life of + immortality in the isle of Leuke in the Euxine. + + 279 --_Astyanax,_ i.e. the _city-king_ or guardian. It is amusing that + Plato, who often finds fault with Homer without reason, should have + copied this twaddling etymology into his Cratylus. + + 280 This book has been closely imitated by Virgil in his fifth book, but + it is almost useless to attempt a selection of passages for + comparison. + + 281 --_Thrice in order led._ This was a frequent rite at funerals. The + Romans had the same custom, which they called _decursio._ Plutarch + states that Alexander, in after times, renewed these same honours to + the memory of Achilles himself. + + 282 --_And swore._ Literally, and called Orcus, the god of oaths, to + witness. See Buttmann, Lexilog, p. 436. + + 283 "O, long expected by thy friends! from whence + Art thou so late return'd for our defence? + Do we behold thee, wearied as we are + With length of labours, and with, toils of war? + After so many funerals of thy own, + Art thou restored to thy declining town? + But say, what wounds are these? what new disgrace + Deforms the manly features of thy face?" + + Dryden, xi. 369. + + 284 --_Like a thin smoke._ Virgil, Georg. iv. 72. + + "In vain I reach my feeble hands to join + In sweet embraces--ah! no longer thine! + She said, and from his eyes the fleeting fair + Retired, like subtle smoke dissolved in air." + + Dryden. + + 285 So Milton:-- + + "So eagerly the fiend + O'er bog, o'er steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, + With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way, + And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies." + + "Paradise Lost," ii. 948. + + 286 "An ancient forest, for the work design'd + (The shady covert of the savage kind). + The Trojans found: the sounding axe is placed: + Firs, pines, and pitch-trees, and the tow'ring pride + Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke, + And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak. + High trunks of trees, fell'd from the steepy crown + Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down." + + Dryden's Virgil, vi. 261. + + 287 --_He vowed._ This was a very ancient custom. + + 288 The height of the tomb or pile was a great proof of the dignity of + the deceased, and the honour in which he was held. + + 289 On the prevalence of this cruel custom amongst the northern nations, + see Mallet, p. 213. + + 290 --_And calls the spirit._ Such was the custom anciently, even at the + Roman funerals. + + "Hail, O ye holy manes! hail again, + Paternal ashes, now revived in vain." + + Dryden's Virgil, v. 106. + + 291 Virgil, by making the boaster vanquished, has drawn a better moral + from this episode than Homer. The following lines deserve + comparison:-- + + "The haughty Dares in the lists appears: + Walking he strides, his head erected bears: + His nervous arms the weighty gauntlet wield, + And loud applauses echo through the field. + * * * * + Such Dares was, and such he strode along, + And drew the wonder of the gazing throng + His brawny breast and ample chest he shows; + His lifted arms around his head he throws, + And deals in whistling air his empty blows. + His match is sought, but, through the trembling band, + No one dares answer to the proud demand. + Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes, + Already he devours the promised prize. + * * * * + If none my matchless valour dares oppose, + How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes?" + + Dryden's Virgil, v. 486, seq. + + 292 "The gauntlet-fight thus ended, from the shore + His faithful friends unhappy Dares bore: + His mouth and nostrils pour'd a purple flood, + And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood." + + Dryden's Virgil, v. 623. + + 293 "Troilus is only once named in the Iliad; he was mentioned also in + the Cypriad but his youth, beauty, and untimely end made him an + object of great interest with the subsequent poets."--Grote, i, p. + 399. + + 294 Milton has rivalled this passage describing the descent of Gabriel, + "Paradise Lost," bk. v. 266, seq. + + "Down thither prone in flight + He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky + Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, + Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan + Winnows the buxom air. * * * * + * * * * + At once on th' eastern cliff of Paradise + He lights, and to his proper shape returns + A seraph wing'd. * * * * + Like Maia's son he stood, + And shook his plumes, that heavenly fragrance fill'd + The circuit wide." + + Virgil, AEn. iv. 350:-- + + "Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds + His flying feet, and mounts the western winds: + And whether o'er the seas or earth he flies, + With rapid force they bear him down the skies + But first he grasps within his awful hand + The mark of sovereign power, his magic wand; + With this he draws the ghost from hollow graves; + With this he drives them from the Stygian waves: + * * * * + Thus arm'd, the god begins his airy race, + And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space." + + Dryden. + + 295 In reference to the whole scene that follows, the remarks of + Coleridge are well worth reading:-- + + "By a close study of life, and by a true and natural mode of + expressing everything, Homer was enabled to venture upon the most + peculiar and difficult situations, and to extricate himself from + them with the completest success. The whole scene between Achilles + and Priam, when the latter comes to the Greek camp for the purpose + of redeeming the body of Hector, is at once the most profoundly + skilful, and yet the simplest and most affecting passage in the + Iliad. Quinctilian has taken notice of the following speech of + Priam, the rhetorical artifice of which is so transcendent, that if + genius did not often, especially in oratory, unconsciously fulfil + the most subtle precepts of criticism, we might be induced, on this + account alone, to consider the last book of the Iliad as what is + called spurious, in other words, of later date than the rest of the + poem. Observe the exquisite taste of Priam in occupying the mind of + Achilles, from the outset, with the image of his father; in + gradually introducing the parallel of his own situation; and, + lastly, mentioning Hector's name when he perceives that the hero is + softened, and then only in such a manner as to flatter the pride of + the conqueror. The ego d'eleeinoteros per, and the apusato aecha + geronta, are not exactly like the tone of the earlier parts of the + Iliad. They are almost too fine and pathetic. The whole passage + defies translation, for there is that about the Greek which has no + name, but which is of so fine and ethereal a subtlety that it can + only be felt in the original, and is lost in an attempt to transfuse + it into another language."--Coleridge, p. 195. + + 296 "Achilles' ferocious treatment of the corpse of Hector cannot but + offend as referred to the modern standard of humanity. The heroic + age, however, must be judged by its own moral laws. Retributive + vengeance on the dead, as well as the living, was a duty inculcated + by the religion of those barbarous times which not only taught that + evil inflicted on the author of evil was a solace to the injured + man; but made the welfare of the soul after death dependent on the + fate of the body from which it had separated. Hence a denial of the + rites essential to the soul's admission into the more favoured + regions of the lower world was a cruel punishment to the wanderer on + the dreary shores of the infernal river. The complaint of the ghost + of Patroclus to Achilles, of but a brief postponement of his own + obsequies, shows how efficacious their refusal to the remains of his + destroyer must have been in satiating the thirst of revenge, which, + even after death, was supposed to torment the dwellers in Hades. + Hence before yielding up the body of Hector to Priam, Achilles asks + pardon of Patroclus for even this partial cession of his just rights + of retribution."--Mure, vol. i. 289. + + 297 Such was the fate of Astyanax, when Troy was taken. + + "Here, from the tow'r by stern Ulysses thrown, + Andromache bewail'd her infant son." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, v. 675. + + 298 The following observations of Coleridge furnish a most gallant and + interesting view of Helen's character-- + + "Few things are more interesting than to observe how the same hand + that has given us the fury and inconsistency of Achilles, gives us + also the consummate elegance and tenderness of Helen. She is through + the Iliad a genuine lady, graceful in motion and speech, noble in + her associations, full of remorse for a fault for which higher + powers seem responsible, yet grateful and affectionate towards those + with whom that fault had committed her. I have always thought the + following speech in which Helen laments Hector, and hints at her own + invidious and unprotected situation in Troy, as almost the sweetest + passage in the poem. It is another striking instance of that + refinement of feeling and softness of tone which so generally + distinguish the last book of the Iliad from the rest."--Classic + Poets, p. 198, seq. + + 299 "And here we part with Achilles at the moment best calculated to + exalt and purify our impression of his character. We had accompanied + him through the effervescence, undulations, and final subsidence of + his stormy passions. We now leave him in repose and under the full + influence of the more amiable affections, while our admiration of + his great qualities is chastened by the reflection that, within a + few short days the mighty being in whom they were united was himself + to be suddenly cut off in the full vigour of their exercise. + + The frequent and touching allusions, interspersed throughout the + Iliad, to the speedy termination of its hero's course, and the moral + on the vanity of human life which they indicate, are among the + finest evidences of the spirit of ethic unity by which the whole + framework of the poem is united."--Mure, vol. i. p 201. + + 300 Cowper says,--"I cannot take my leave of this noble poem without + expressing how much I am struck with the plain conclusion of it. It + is like the exit of a great man out of company, whom he has + entertained magnificently; neither pompous nor familiar; not + contemptuous, yet without much ceremony." Coleridge, p. 227, + considers the termination of "Paradise Lost" somewhat similar. + + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ILIAD OF HOMER*** + + + +CREDITS + + +July 2004 + + Posted to Project Gutenberg + Anne Soulard, + Juliet Sutherland, + Charles Franks, and + The Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +September 2006 + + Converted to PGTEI v.04 + Joshua Hutchinson + + + +A WORD FROM PROJECT GUTENBERG + + +This file should be named 6130-0.txt or 6130-0.zip. + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + + + http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/1/3/6130/ + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one -- the old editions will be +renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one +owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and +you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission +and without paying copyright royalties. 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