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; | 5 |
| With Gods averse th’ ill-fated works arose; | |
| Their powers neglected, and no victim slain, | |
| The walls are rais’d, the trenches sunk, in vain. | |
| Without the Gods, how short a period stands | |
| The proudest monument of mortal hands! | 10 |
| 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, | 15 |
| Then Ida’s summits pour’d their wat’ry store; | |
| Rhesus and Rhodius then unite their rills, | |
| Caresus roaring down the stony hills, | |
| Æsepus, Granicus, with mingled force, | |
| And Xanthus foaming from his fruitful source; | 20 |
| And gulfy Simois, rolling to the main | |
| Helmets, and shields, and godlike heroes slain: | |
| These, turn’d by Phœbus from their wonted ways, | |
| Deluged the rampire nine continual days; | |
| The weight of waters saps the yielding wall, | 25 |
| And to the sea the floating bulwarks fall. | |
| Incessant cataracts the Thund’rer pours, | |
| And half the skies descend in sluicy showers. | |
| The God of Ocean, marching stern before, | |
| With his huge trident wounds the trembling shore, | 30 |
| 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, | 35 |
| Shine ’twixt the hills, or wander o’er the plain. | |
| 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. | 40 |
| Smote by the arm of Jove, and 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 scatt’ring throng, | 45 |
| 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 jav’lins rain an iron storm; | 50 |
| 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; | 55 |
| Exhorts his armies, and the trenches shows. | |
| The panting steeds impatient fury breathe, | |
| But snort and tremble at the gulf beneath; | |
| Just on the brink, they neigh, and paw the ground, | |
| And the turf trembles, and the skies resound. | 60 |
| 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, | 65 |
| 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 our Trojan bands, | |
| And you, confed’rate Chiefs from foreign lands! | 70 |
| What entrance here can cumbrous chariots find, | |
| The stakes beneath, the Grecian walls behind? | |
| No pass thro’ those without a thousand wounds; | |
| No space for combat in yon narrow bounds. | |
| Proud of the favours mighty Jove has shown, | 75 |
| On certain dangers we too rashly run: | |
| If ’t is his will our haughty foes to tame, | |
| O may this instant end the Grecian name! | |
| Here, far from Argos, let their heroes fall, | |
| And one great day destroy, and bury all! | 80 |
| But should they turn, and here oppress our train, | |
| What hopes, what methods of retreat remain? | |
| Wedg’d in the trench, by our own troops confused, | |
| In one promiscuous carnage crush’d and bruis’d, | |
| All Troy must perish, if their arms prevail, | 85 |
| 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, wedg’d in firm array, | |
| Proceed on foot, and Hector lead the way. | 90 |
| So Greece shall stoop before our conquering power, | |
| And this (if Jove consent) her fatal hour.’ | |
| This counsel pleas’d: the godlike Hector sprung | |
| Swift from his seat; his clanging armour rung. | |
| The Chief’s example follow’d by his train, | 95 |
| 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 sev’ral Chiefs’ commands, | 100 |
| 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, | 105 |
| And bold Alcathoüs, and Agenor joins. | |
| The sons of Priam with the third appear, | |
| Deïphobus, and Helenus the seer; | |
| In arms with these the mighty Asius stood, | |
| Who drew from Hyrtacus his noble blood, | 110 |
| And whom Arisba’s yellow coursers bore, | |
| The coursers fed on Selle’s winding shore. | |
| Antenor’s sons the fourth battalion guide, | |
| And great Æneas, born on fountful Ide. | |
| Divine Sarpedon the last band obey’d, | 115 |
| Whom Glaucus and Asteropæus 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: | 120 |
| Already in their hopes they fire the fleet, | |
| And see the Grecians gasping at their feet. | |
| While every Trojan thus, and every aid, | |
| Th’ advice of wise Polydamas obey’d; | |
| Asius alone, confiding in his car, | 125 |
| 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! | 130 |
| 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 thro’ the wall their horse and chariots past, | 135 |
| The gates half-open’d to receive the last. | |
| Thither, exulting in his force, he flies; | |
| His foll’wing host with clamours rend the skies: | |
| To plunge the Grecians headlong in the main, | |
| Such their proud hopes, but all their hopes were vain! | 140 |
| To guard the gates, two mighty Chiefs attend, | |
| Who from the Lapiths’ warlike race descend; | |
| This Polypœtes, great Perithous’ heir, | |
| And that Leonteus, like the God of War. | |
| As two tall oaks, before the wall they rise; | 145 |
| 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. | 150 |
| So graceful these, and so the shock they stand | |
| Of raging Asius, and his furious band. | |
| Orestes, Acamas, in front appear, | |
| And Œnomaus and Thoön close the rear. | |
| In vain their clamours shake the ambient fields, | 155 |
| In vain around them beat their hollow shields; | |
| The fearless brothers on the Grecians call, | |
| To guard their navies, and defend their wall. | |
| Ev’n when they saw Troy’s sable troops impend, | |
| And Greece tumultuous from her towers descend, | 160 |
| Forth from the portals rush’d th’ intrepid pair, | |
| Opposed their breasts, and stood themselves the war. | |
| So two wild boars spring furious from their den, | |
| Rous’d with the cries of dogs, and voice of men; | |
| On every side the crackling trees they tear, | 165 |
| 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 jav’lins sung; | |
| With sounding strokes their brazen targets rung: | 170 |
| Fierce was the fight, while yet the Grecian powers | |
| Maintain’d the walls, and mann’d the lofty towers: | |
| To save their fleet, the last efforts they try, | |
| And stones and darts in mingled tempests fly. | |
| As when sharp Boreas blows abroad, and brings | 175 |
| 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; | 180 |
| Heavy, and thick, resound the batter’d shields, | |
| And the deaf echo rattles round the fields. | |
| With shame repuls’d, with grief and fury driv’n, | |
| The frantic Asius thus accuses Heav’n: | |
| ‘In powers immortal who shall now believe? | 185 |
| Can those too flatter, and can Jove deceive? | |
| What man can 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, | 190 |
| Dark’ning the rock, while, with unwearied wings, | |
| They strike th’ assailants, and infix their stings; | |
| A race determin’d, that to death contend: | |
| So fierce, these Greeks their last retreat defend. | |
| Gods! shall two warriors only guard their gates, | 195 |
| Repel an army, and defraud the fates?’ | |
| These empty accents mingled with the wind, | |
| Nor mov’d great Jove’s unalterable mind; | |
| To godlike Hector and his matchless might | |
| Was owed the glory of the destin’d fight. | 200 |
| Like deeds of arms thro’ all the forts were tried, | |
| And all the gates sustain’d an equal tide; | |
| Thro’ 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, | 205 |
| 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 deplor’d the day. | 210 |
| Ev’n yet the dauntless Lapithæ maintain | |
| The dreadful pass, and round them heap the slain. | |
| First Damasus, by Polypœtes’ steel | |
| Pierc’d thro’ his helmet’s brazen vizor, fell; | |
| The weapon drank the mingled brains and gore; | 215 |
| The warrior sinks, tremendous now no more! | |
| Next Ormenus and Pylon yield their breath: | |
| Nor less Leonteus strews the field with death; | |
| First thro’ the belt Hippomachus he gor’d, | |
| Then sudden waved his unresisted sword; | 220 |
| Antiphates, as thro’ the ranks he broke, | |
| The falchion struck, and Fate pursued the stroke; | |
| Iämenus, Orestes, Menon, bled; | |
| And round him rose a monument of dead. | |
| Meantime, the bravest of the Trojan crew | 225 |
| 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 Heav’n alarm’d, by prodigies amazed: | 230 |
| 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, | 235 |
| He stung the bird, whose throat receiv’d 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 Heav’ns with cries; | |
| Amidst the host the fallen serpent lies: | 240 |
| 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, | 245 |
| 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 and war, in council and in fight; | 250 |
| 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, | 255 |
| 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; | 260 |
| Thus, tho’ we gird with fires the Grecian fleet, | |
| Tho’ these proud bulwarks 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; | 265 |
| 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: | 270 |
| Or if the purpose of thy heart thou vent, | |
| Sure Heav’n 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, th’ irrevocable nod, | 275 |
| And happy thunders of the fav’ring God, | |
| These shall I slight? and guide my wav’ring mind | |
| By wand’ring birds, that flit with ev’ry wind? | |
| Ye vagrants of the sky! your wings extend, | |
| Or where the suns arise, or where descend; | 280 |
| To right, to left, unheeded take your way, | |
| While I the dictates of high Heav’n obey. | |
| Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, | |
| And asks no omen but his country’s cause. | |
| But why shouldst thou suspect the war’s success? | 285 |
| None fears it more, as none promotes it less: | |
| Tho’ all our Chiefs amid yon ships expire, | |
| Trust thy own cowardice t’ escape their fire. | |
| Troy and her sons may find a gen’ral grave, | |
| But thou canst live, for thou canst be a slave. | 290 |
| Yet should the fears that wary mind suggests | |
| Spread their cold poison thro’ our soldiers’ breasts, | |
| My jav’lin can revenge so base a part, | |
| And free the soul that quivers in thy heart.’ | |
| Furious he spoke, and, rushing to the wall, | 295 |
| 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: | 300 |
| He fills the Greeks with terror and dismay, | |
| And gives great Hector the predestin’d 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, | 305 |
| While these they undermine, and those they rend; | |
| Upheave 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, | 310 |
| 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 gen’rous impulse every Greek obeys; | 315 |
| 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! | 320 |
| 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; | 325 |
| 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. | 330 |
| As when high Jove his sharp artillery forms, | |
| And opes his cloudy magazine of storms; | |
| In winter’s bleak uncomfortable reign, | |
| A snowy inundation hides the plain; | |
| He stills the winds, and bids the skies to sleep; | 335 |
| 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: | 340 |
| The circling seas alone absorbing all, | |
| Drink the dissolving fleeces as they fall. | |
| So from each side increas’d the stony rain, | |
| And the white ruin rises o’er the plain. | |
| Thus godlike Hector and his troops contend | 345 |
| 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. | 350 |
| 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, | |
| Pond’rous with brass, and bound with ductile gold: | |
| And while two pointed jav’lins arm his hands, | 355 |
| 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: | 360 |
| 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. | |
| Resolv’d alike, divine Sarpedon glows | 365 |
| With gen’rous rage that drives him on the foes. | |
| He views the towers, and meditates their fall; | |
| To sure destruction dooms th’ aspiring wall: | |
| Then, casting on his friend an ardent look, | |
| Fired with the thirst of glory, thus he spoke: | 370 |
| ‘Why boast we, Glaucus! our extended reign, | |
| 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, | 375 |
| Our feasts enhane’d 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? | 380 |
| ’T is ours, the dignity they give to grace; | |
| The first in valour, as the first in place: | |
| That when, with wond’ring eyes, our martial bands | |
| Behold our deeds transcending our commands, | |
| Such, they may cry, deserve the sov’reign state, | 385 |
| Whom those that envy dare not imitate! | |
| Could all our care elude the gloomy grave, | |
| Which claims no less the fearful than the brave, | |
| For lust of fame I should not vainly dare | |
| In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war. | 390 |
| 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 tho’ we fall, and honour’d if we live, | 395 |
| Or let us glory gain, or glory give!’ | |
| He said: his words the list’ning 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 promis’d fight. | 400 |
| Menestheus from on high the storm beheld, | |
| Threat’ning the fort, and black’ning in the field; | |
| Around the walls he gazed, to view from far | |
| What aid appear’d t’ avert th’ approaching war, | |
| And saw where Teucer with th’ Ajaces stood, | 405 |
| Of fight insatiate, prodigal of blood. | |
| In vain he calls; the din of helms and shields | |
| Rings to the skies, and echoes thro’ the fields; | |
| The brazen hinges fly, the walls resound, | |
| Heav’n trembles, roar the mountains, thunders all the ground. | 410 |
| Then thus to Thoös:—‘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, | 415 |
| 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.’ | 420 |
| Swift as the word, the herald speeds along | |
| The lofty ramparts, thro’ 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! | 425 |
| Your aid,’ (said Thoös), ‘Peleus’ 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. | 430 |
| But if too fiercely here the foes contend, | |
| At least let Telamon these 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, | 435 |
| And thus bespoke his brothers of the war: | |
| ‘Now, valiant Lycomede! exert your might, | |
| And, brave Oïleus, prove your force in fight: | |
| To you I trust the fortune of the field, | |
| Till by this arm the foe shall be repell’d: | 440 |
| That done, expect me to complete the day—’ | |
| Then, with his sev’n-fold 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, | 445 |
| Like some black tempest gath’ring round the towers; | |
| The Greeks, oppress’d, their utmost force unite, | |
| Prepared to labour in th’ unequal fight; | |
| The war renews, mix’d shouts and groans arise; | |
| Tumultuous clamour mounts, and thickens in the skies. | 450 |
| Fierce Ajax first th’ 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 | 455 |
| Could heave th’ unwieldy burthen from the plain. | |
| He pois’d, 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 thund’ring down, | |
| The pond’rous ruin crush’d his batter’d crown. | 460 |
| As skilful divers from some airy steep | |
| Headlong descend, and shoot into the deep, | |
| So falls Epicles; then in groans expires, | |
| And murm’ring to the shades the soul retires. | |
| While to the ramparts daring Glaucus drew, | 465 |
| From Teucer’s hand a winged arrow flew; | |
| The bearded shaft the destin’d 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, | 470 |
| Conceal’d the wound, and, leaping from his height, | |
| Retired reluctant from th’ unfinish’d fight. | |
| Divine Sarpedon with regret beheld | |
| Disabled Glaucus slowly quit the field: | |
| His beating breast with gen’rous ardour glows, | 475 |
| He springs to fight, and flies upon the foes. | |
| Alcmaön 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: | 480 |
| Down sinks the warrior with a thund’ring sound, | |
| His brazen armour rings against the ground. | |
| Swift to the battlement the victor flies, | |
| Tugs with full force, and ev’ry nerve applies; | |
| It shakes; the pond’rous stones disjointed yield: | 485 |
| 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 jav’lin at the foe: | 490 |
| Fix’d in his belt the feather’d weapon stood, | |
| And thro’ 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, | 495 |
| But urging vengeance and severer fight; | |
| Then, rais’d 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! | 500 |
| 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, | 505 |
| They join, they thicken, and th’ assault renew: | |
| Unmov’d th’ 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. | 510 |
| 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: | 515 |
| Nor these can keep, nor those can win, the wall. | |
| Their manly breasts are pierc’d with many a wound, | |
| Loud strokes are heard, and rattling arms resound; | |
| The copious slaughter covers all the shore, | |
| And the high ramparts drop with human gore. | 520 |
| 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, pois’d aloft, the resting beam suspends | 525 |
| Each equal weight; nor this nor that descends: | |
| 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: | 530 |
| ‘Advance, ye Trojans! lend your valiant hands, | |
| Haste to the fleet, and toss the blazing brands!’ | |
| They hear, they run, and, gath’ring at his call, | |
| Raise scaling engines, and ascend the wall: | |
| Around the works a wood of glitt’ring spears | 535 |
| Shoots up, and all the rising host appears. | |
| A pond’rous stone bold Hector heav’d to throw, | |
| Pointed above, and rough and gross below: | |
| Not two strong men th’ enormous weight could raise, | |
| Such men as live in these degen’rate days. | 540 |
| 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 | |
| Th’ unwieldy rock, the labour of a God. | |
| Thus arm’d, before the folded gates he came, | 545 |
| Of massy substance, and stupendous frame; | |
| With iron bars and brazen hinges strong, | |
| On lofty beams of solid timber hung: | |
| Then thund’ring thro’ the planks, with forceful sway, | |
| Drives the sharp rock: the solid beams give way; | 550 |
| The folds are shatter’d; from the crackling door | |
| Lead the resounding bars, the flying hinges roar. | |
| Now, rushing in, the furious Chief appears, | |
| Gloomy as night! and shakes two shining spears: | |
| A dreadful gleam from his bright armour came, | 555 |
| 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, thro’ the gaping space, | |
| A tide of Trojans flows, and fills the place; | 560 |
| The Greeks behold, they tremble, and they fly: | |
| The shore is heap’d with death, and tumult rends the sky. | |
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