BUT nor the genial feast, nor flowing bowl, | |
| Could charm the cares of Nestor’s watchful soul; | |
| His startled ears th’ increasing cries attend; | |
| Then thus, impatient, to his wounded friend: | |
| ‘What new alarms, divine Machaon, say, | 5 |
| 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 strength’ning bath prepare, | 10 |
| Refresh thy wound, and cleanse the clotted gore, | |
| While I th’ 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); | 15 |
| 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. | 20 |
| As when old Ocean’s silent surface sleeps, | |
| The waves just heaving on the purple deeps; | |
| While yet th’ expected tempest hangs on high, | |
| Weighs down the cloud, and blackens in the sky, | |
| The mass of waters will no wind obey; | 25 |
| Jove sends one gust, and bids them roll away. | |
| While wav’ring counsels thus his mind engage, | |
| Fluctuates in doubtful thought the Pylian sage; | |
| To join the host, or to the Gen’ral haste; | |
| Debating long, he fixes on the last: | 30 |
| Yet, as he moves, the fight his bosom warms; | |
| The field rings dreadful with the clang of arms; | |
| The gleaming falchions flash, the jav’lins fly; | |
| Blows echo blows, and all or kill or die. | |
| Him, in his march, the wounded Princes meet, | 35 |
| By tardy steps ascending from the fleet; | |
| The King of Men, Ulysses the divine, | |
| And who to Tydeus owes his noble line. | |
| (Their ships at distance from the battle stand, | |
| In lines advanc’d along the shelving strand; | 40 |
| 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 their spears they took their way, | 45 |
| Unfit to fight, but anxious for the day. | |
| Nestor’s approach alarm’d each Grecian breast, | |
| Whom thus the Gen’ral of the host address’d: | |
| ‘O grace and glory of th’ Achaian name! | |
| What drives thee, Nestor, from the Field of Fame? | 50 |
| 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 | 55 |
| Against your King, nor will one Chief engage? | |
| And have I liv’d to see with mournful eyes | |
| In ev’ry Greek a new Achilles rise?’ | |
| Gerenian Nestor then: ‘So Fate has will’d; | |
| And all confirming time has Fate fulfill’d, | 60 |
| Not he that thunders from th’ aërial bower. | |
| Not Jove himself, upon the past has power. | |
| The wall, our late inviolable bound, | |
| And best defence, lies smoking on the ground: | |
| Ev’n to the ships their conquering arms extend, | 65 |
| And groans of slaughter’d Greeks to Heav’n ascend. | |
| On speedy measures then employ your thought; | |
| In such distress if counsel profit aught; | |
| Arms cannot much: tho’ Mars our souls incite, | |
| These gaping wounds withhold us from the fight.’ | 70 |
| 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, | 75 |
| Who, far from Argos, wills our ruin here, | |
| Past are the days when happier Greece was bless’d, | |
| And all his favour, all his aid, confess’d; | |
| Now Heav’n, averse, our hands from battle ties, | |
| And lifts the Trojan glory to the skies. | 80 |
| 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. | 85 |
| Better from evils, well foreseen, to run, | |
| Than perish in the danger we may shun.’ | |
| Thus he. The sage Ulysses thus replies, | |
| While anger flash’d from his disdainful eyes: | |
| ‘What shameful words (unkingly as thou art) | 90 |
| Fall from that trembling tongue and tim’rous 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: | 95 |
| 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, | 100 |
| 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 ev’n from him whose sov’reign sway | |
| The banded legions of all Greece obey? | 105 |
| Is this a Gen’ral’s voice, that calls to flight? | |
| While war hangs doubtful, while his soldiers fight? | |
| What more could Troy? What yet their fate denies | |
| Thou giv’st the foe: all Greece becomes their prize. | |
| No more the troops (our hoisted sails in view, | 110 |
| 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. | 115 |
| 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: | 120 |
| ‘Such counsel if ye seek, behold the man | |
| Who boldly gives it, and what he shall say, | |
| Young tho’ he be, disdain not to obey: | |
| A youth, who from the mighty Tydeus springs, | |
| May speak to councils and assembled Kings. | 125 |
| Hear then in me the great Œnides’ son, | |
| Whose honour’d 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 gen’rous Prothous bless’d, | 130 |
| Who Pleuron’s walls and Calydon possess’d: | |
| Melas and Agrius, but (who far surpass’d | |
| The rest in courage) Œneus was the last: | |
| From him, my sire. From Calydon expell’d, | |
| He pass’d to Argos, and in exile dwell’d; | 135 |
| 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. | 140 |
| 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. | |
| Tho’ sore of battle, tho’ with wounds opprest, | 145 |
| Let each go forth, and animate the rest, | |
| Advance the glory which he cannot share, | |
| Tho’ not partaker, witness of the war. | |
| But lest new wounds on wounds o’erpower us quite, | |
| Beyond the missile jav’lin’s sounding flight, | 150 |
| Safe let us stand; and, from the tumult far, | |
| Inspire the ranks, and rule the distant war.’ | |
| He added not: the list’ning Kings obey, | |
| Slow moving on; Atrides leads the way. | |
| The God of Ocean (to inflame their rage) | 155 |
| Appears a warrior furrow’d o’er with age; | |
| Press’d in his own, the Gen’ral’s hand he took, | |
| And thus the venerable hero spoke: | |
| ‘Atrides, lo! with what disdainful eye | |
| Achilles sees his country’s forces fly: | 160 |
| 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 Heav’n forsakes not thee: o’er yonder sands | 165 |
| Soon shalt thou view the scatter’d Trojan bands | |
| Fly diverse; while proud Kings, and Chiefs renown’d, | |
| Driv’n heaps on heaps, with clouds involv’d around | |
| Of rolling dust, their winged wheels employ | |
| To hide their ignominious heads in Troy.’ | 170 |
| He spoke, then rush’d among the warrior crew: | |
| And sent his voice before him as he flew, | |
| Loud, as the shout encount’ring armies yield, | |
| When twice ten thousand shake the lab’ring field; | |
| Such was the voice, and such the thund’ring sound | 175 |
| 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; | 180 |
| 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, | 185 |
| What arts, to blind his all-beholding eye? | |
| At length she trusts her power; resolv’d 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. | 190 |
| 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 | 195 |
| 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 | |
| Thro’ Heav’n, thro’ earth, and all th’ aërial way; | 200 |
| Spirit divine! whose exhalation greets | |
| The sense of Gods with more than mortal sweets. | |
| Thus while she breathed of Heav’n, with decent pride | |
| Her artful hands the radiant tresses tied; | |
| Part on her head in shining ringlets roll’d, | 205 |
| Part o’er her shoulders waved like melted gold. | |
| Around her next a heav’nly 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. | 210 |
| Far-beaming pendants tremble in her ear, | |
| Each gem illumin’d with a triple star. | |
| Then o’er her head she cast a veil more white | |
| Than new-fall’n snow, and dazzling as the light. | |
| Last her fair feet celestial sandals grace. | 215 |
| Thus issuing radiant, with majestic pace, | |
| Forth from the dome th’ 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? | 220 |
| Ah yet, will Venus aid Saturnia’s joy, | |
| And set aside the cause of Greece and Troy?’ | |
| ‘Let Heav’n’s dread Empress’ (Cytherea said) | |
| ‘Speak her request, and deem her will obey’d.’ | |
| ‘Then grant me’ (said the Queen) ‘those conquering charms, | 225 |
| That Power, which mortals and immortals warms, | |
| That love, which melts mankind in fierce desires, | |
| And burns the sons of Heav’n with sacred fires! | |
| For lo! I haste to those remote abodes, | |
| Where the great parents (sacred source of Gods!) | 230 |
| Ocean and Tethys their old empire keep, | |
| On the last limits of the land and deep. | |
| In their kind arms my tender years were pass’d; | |
| What time old Saturn, from Olympus cast, | |
| Of upper Heav’n to Jove resign’d the reign, | 235 |
| 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? | 240 |
| 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 unbraced, | 245 |
| With various skill and high embroid’ry graced. | |
| In this was ev’ry art, and ev’ry charm, | |
| To win the wisest, and the coldest warm: | |
| Fond love, the gentle vow, the gay desire, | |
| The kind deceit, the still reviving fire; | 250 |
| Persuasive speech, and 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 | 255 |
| The powerful cestus to her snowy breast. | |
| Then Venus to the courts of Jove withdrew; | |
| Whilst from Olympus pleas’d Saturnia flew. | |
| O’er high Pieria thence her course she bore, | |
| O’er fair Emathia’s ever-pleasing shore, | 260 |
| O’er Hæmus’ 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. | 265 |
| ‘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, | 270 |
| 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.’ | 275 |
| ‘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. | 280 |
| 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, | 285 |
| 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 bless’d abodes | |
| With rising wrath, and tumbled Gods on Gods; | 290 |
| 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 Heav’n), her wings display’d; | |
| Empower’d the wrath of Gods and men to tame, | 295 |
| Ev’n Jove revered the venerable dame.’ | |
| ‘Vain are thy fears’ (the Queen of Heav’n 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? | 300 |
| Hear, and obey the Mistress of the Skies, | |
| Nor for the deed expect a vulgar prize: | |
| For know, thy lov’d-one shall be ever thine, | |
| The youngest Grace, Pasithaë the divine.’ | |
| ‘Swear then’ (he said) ‘by those tremendous floods, | 305 |
| That roar thro’ Hell, and bind th’ 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 Cronos dwell, | |
| To hear and witness from the depths of Hell; | 310 |
| That she, my lov’d-one, shall be ever mine, | |
| The youngest Grace, Pasithaë the divine.’ | |
| The Queen assents, and from th’ infernal bowers | |
| Invokes the sable subtartarean powers, | |
| And those who rule th’ inviolable floods, | 315 |
| Whom mortals name the dread Titanian Gods. | |
| Then, swift as wind, o’er Lemnos’ smoky isle, | |
| They wing their way, and Imbrus’ sea-beat soil, | |
| Thro’ air, unseen, involv’d in darkness glide, | |
| And light on Lectos, on the point of Ide | 320 |
| (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 | 325 |
| To join its summit to the neighb’ring skies, | |
| Dark in embow’ring shade, conceal’d from sight, | |
| Sat Sleep, in likeness of the bird of night | |
| (Chalcis his name with those of heav’nly birth, | |
| But called Cymindis by the race of earth). | 330 |
| To Ida’s top successful Juno flies; | |
| Great Jove surveys her with desiring eyes: | |
| The God, whose lightning sets the Heav’ns on fire, | |
| Thro’ all his bosom feels the fierce desire; | |
| Fierce as when first by stealth he seiz’d her charms, | 335 |
| 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 then with transport spoke: | |
| ‘Why comes my Goddess from th’ ethereal sky, | |
| And not her steeds and flaming chariot nigh!’ | 340 |
| Then she—‘I haste to those remote abodes, | |
| Where the great parents of the deathless Gods, | |
| The rev’rend Ocean and great Tethys, reign, | |
| On the last limits of the land and main. | |
| I visit these, to whose indulgent cares | 345 |
| I owe the nursing of my tender years. | |
| For strife, I hear, has made that union cease, | |
| Which held so long this ancient pair in peace. | |
| The steeds, prepared my chariot to convey | |
| O’er earth and seas, and thro’ th’ aërial way, | 350 |
| Wait under Ide: of thy superior power | |
| To ask consent, I leave th’ Olympian bower; | |
| Nor seek, unknown to thee, the sacred cells | |
| Deep under, seas, where hoary Ocean dwells.’ | |
| ‘For that’ (said Jove) ‘suffice another day; | 355 |
| 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 heav’nly love; | 360 |
| Not when I press’d Ixion’s matchless dame, | |
| Whence rose Pirithous, like the Gods in fame. | |
| Not when fair Danaë felt the shower of gold | |
| Stream into life, whence Perseus brave and bold. | |
| Not thus I burn’d for either Theban dame | 365 |
| (Bacchus from this, from that Alcides came), | |
| Not Phœnix’ daughter, beautiful and young, | |
| Whence Godlike Rhadamanth and Minos sprung; | |
| Not thus I burn’d for fair Latona’s face, | |
| Nor comelier Ceres’ more majestic grace. | 370 |
| Not thus ev’n 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, | 375 |
| Exposed to mortal and immortal sight; | |
| Our joys profaned by each familiar eye; | |
| The sport of Heav’n, and fable of the sky! | |
| How shall I e’er review the bless’d abodes, | |
| Or mix among the Senate of the Gods? | 380 |
| Shall I not think, that, with disorder’d charms, | |
| All Heav’n 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, | 385 |
| And secret there indulge thy soft desire.’ | |
| She ceas’d: and smiling with superior love, | |
| Thus answer’d mild the cloud-compelling Jove: | |
| ‘Not God nor mortal shall our joys behold, | |
| Shaded with clouds, and circumfused in gold; | 390 |
| Not ev’n the sun, who darts thro’ Heav’n his rays, | |
| And whose broad eye th’ 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 | 395 |
| Unbidden herbs, and voluntary flowers; | |
| Thick new-born violets a soft carpet spread, | |
| And clust’ring lotos swell’d the rising bed, | |
| And sudden hyacinths the turf bestrow, | |
| And flamy crocus made the mountain glow. | 400 |
| There golden clouds conceal the heav’nly 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, | 405 |
| The panting Thund’rer 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, unperceiv’d he stood, | |
| And thus with gentle words address’d the God: | 410 |
| ‘Now, Neptune! now, th’ important hour employ, | |
| To check awhile 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, | 415 |
| 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 increas’d, renews his care, | |
| And tow’ring in the foremost ranks of war, | 420 |
| 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, | 425 |
| While stern Achilles in his wrath retires. | |
| One hero’s loss too tamely you deplore, | |
| Be still yourselves, and we shall need no more. | |
| Oh yet, if glory any bosom warms, | |
| Brace on your firmest helms, and stand to arms: | 430 |
| His strongest spear each valiant Grecian wield, | |
| Each valiant Grecian seize his broadest shield; | |
| Let to the weak the lighter arms belong, | |
| The pond’rous targe be wielded by the strong. | |
| Thus arm’d, not Hector shall our presence stay; | 435 |
| Myself, ye Greeks! myself will lead the way.’ | |
| The troops assent; their martial arms they change, | |
| The busy chiefs their banded legions range. | |
| The Kings, tho’ wounded, and oppress’d with pain, | |
| With helpful hands themselves assist the train. | 440 |
| The strong and cumbrous arms the valiant wield, | |
| The weaker warrior takes a lighter shield. | |
| Thus sheathed in shining brass, in bright array | |
| The legions march, and Neptune leads the way: | |
| His brandish’d falchion flames before their eyes, | 445 |
| Like lightning flashing thro’ the frighted skies. | |
| Clad in his might th’ earth-shaking Power appears; | |
| Pale mortals tremble, and confess their fears. | |
| Troy’s great defender stands alone unaw’d, | |
| Arms his proud host, and dares oppose a God: | 450 |
| 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 wat’ry wall | |
| Around the ships, seas hanging o’er the shores; | 455 |
| Both armies join; earth thunders, ocean roars. | |
| Not half so loud the bell’wing deeps resound, | |
| When stormy winds disclose the dark profound; | |
| Less loud the winds that from th’ Æolian hall | |
| Roar thro’ the woods, and make whole forests fall; | 460 |
| 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 driv’n, | |
| And such a clamour shakes the sounding Heav’n. | |
| The first bold jav’lin, urged by Hector’s force, | 465 |
| Direct at Ajax’ bosom wing’d 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 curs’d the lance that unavailing flew: | 470 |
| But ’scaped not Ajax; his tempestuous hand | |
| A pond’rous stone up-heaving from the sand | |
| (Where heaps, laid loose beneath the warrior’s feet, | |
| Or serv’d to ballast, or to prop the fleet), | |
| Toss’d round and round, the missive marble flings; | 475 |
| On the rais’d shield the falling 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. | 480 |
| 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, | 485 |
| And own the terrors of th’ almighty hand! | |
| So lies great Hector prostrate on the shore; | |
| His slacken’d hand deserts the lance it bore; | |
| His foll’wing shield the fallen chief o’er-spread; | |
| Beneath his helmet dropp’d his fainting head; | 490 |
| 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; | 495 |
| And thicker jav’lins intercept the sky. | |
| In vain an iron tempest hisses round: | |
| He lies protected and without a wound. | |
| Polydamas, Agenor the divine, | |
| The pious warrior of Anchises’ line, | 500 |
| And each bold leader of the Lysian band, | |
| With cov’ring shields (a friendly circle) stand. | |
| His mournful foll’wers, with assistant care, | |
| The groaning hero to his chariot bear; | |
| His foaming coursers, swifter than the wind | 505 |
| 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 wat’ry drops the chief they sprinkle round, | |
| Placed on the margin of the flowery ground. | 510 |
| Rais’d 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, | 515 |
| With double fury each invades the field. | |
| Oïlean Ajax first his jav’lin sped, | |
| Pierc’d by whose point the son of Enops bled | |
| (Satnius the brave, whom beauteous Neïs bore | |
| Amidst her flocks, on Satnio’s silver shore). | 520 |
| Struck thro’ 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, | 525 |
| And at Prothœnor shook the trembling spear: | |
| The driving jav’lin thro’ 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: | 530 |
| From this unerring hand there flies no dart, | |
| But bathes its point within a Grecian heart. | |
| Propp’d on that spear to which thou ow’st thy fall, | |
| Go, guide thy darksome steps to Pluto’s dreary hall.’ | |
| He said, and sorrow touch’d each Argive breast; | 535 |
| The soul of Ajax burn’d above the rest. | |
| As by his side the groaning warrior fell, | |
| At the fierce foe he lanc’d his piercing steel; | |
| The foe, reclining, shunn’d the flying death; | |
| But Fate, Archilochus, demands thy breath; | 540 |
| Thy lofty birth no succour could impart, | |
| The wings of death o’ertook thee on the dart: | |
| Swift to perform Heav’n’s fatal will it fled, | |
| Full on the juncture of the neck and head, | |
| And took the joint, and cut the nerves in twain; | 545 |
| The drooping head first tumbled to 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 tow’ring Ajax loud-insulting cries: | 550 |
| ‘Say, is this chief, extended on the plain, | |
| A worthy vengeance for Prothœnor 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, | 555 |
| Antenor’s brother, or perhaps his son.’ | |
| He spake, and smil’d severe, for well he knew | |
| The bleeding youth: Troy sadden’d at the view. | |
| But furious Acamas avenged his cause; | |
| As Promachus his slaughter’d brother draws, | 560 |
| He pierc’d his heart—‘Such fate attends you all, | |
| Proud Argives! destin’d 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, | 565 |
| A victim owed to my brave brother’s death. | |
| Not unappeas’d 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: | 570 |
| At the proud boaster he directs his course; | |
| The boaster flies, and shuns superior force. | |
| But young Ilioneus receiv’d the spear; | |
| Ilioneus, his father’s only care | |
| (Phorbas the rich, of all the Trojan train | 575 |
| Whom Hermes lov’d, and taught the arts of gain): | |
| Full in his eye the weapon chanc’d to fall, | |
| And from the fibres scoop’d the rooted ball, | |
| Drove thro’ the neck, and hurl’d him to the plain: | |
| He lifts his miserable arms in vain! | 580 |
| 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 thro’ the bleeding eye, | |
| The victor seiz’d; and as aloft he shook | 585 |
| The gory visage, thus insulting spoke: | |
| ‘Trojans! your great Ilioneus beheld! | |
| 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; | 590 |
| 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; | 595 |
| 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! | 600 |
| O say, when Neptune made proud Ilion yield, | |
| What Chief, what hero, first imbrued the field? | |
| Of all the Grecians, what immortal name, | |
| And whose bless’d trophies, will ye raise to Fame? | |
| Thou first, great Ajax! on th’ ensanguin’d plain | 605 |
| Laid Hyrtius, leader of the Mysian train. | |
| Phalces and Mermer, Nestor’s son o’er threw, | |
| Bold Merion, Morys and Hippotion slew. | |
| Strong Periphætes and Prothoön bled, | |
| By Teucer’s arrows mingled with the dead. | 610 |
| Pierc’d 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 thro’ the wound. | |
| But stretch’d in heaps before Oïleus’ son, | 615 |
| Fall mighty numbers, mighty numbers run, | |
| Ajax the less, of all the Grecian race | |
| Skill’d in pursuit, and swiftest in the chase. | |
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