The distant shepherd trembling hears the sound: 520 | But Phœbus now from Ilion's towering height

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,

Raised his high crest, and through his helmet
drives;

530

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. 590
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 Pirus threw

(Who from cold Enus led the Thracian erew;) 600
Full on his ankle dropp'd the ponderous stone,
Burst the strong nerves, and erash'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.
540 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.

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*
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.
The war renews, the warriors bleed again;
Trojans and Greeks now gather round the slain;
As o'er their prey rapacious wolves engage,
Man dies on man, and all is blood and rage.
In blooming youth fair Simoïsius fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell:
Fair Simoïsius, 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, Simoïsius lies
Stretch'd on the shore, and thus neglected dies.

550

His lance bold Thaos at the conqueror sent, 619
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 Etolian 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 vietor strove in vain;
The Thracian bands against the victor press'd; 620
A grove of lances glitter'd at his breast.
Stern Thaos, 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:

560 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.

570

At Ajax Antiphus his javelin threw ;
The pointed lance with erring fury flew,
And Leucas, loved by wise Ulysses, slew.
He drops the corpse of Simoïsius slain,
And sinks a breathless carcass 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 enter'd close above his ear,
Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear;
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. 580
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.]

* Elphenor.

BOOK V.
ARGUMENT.

The Acts of Diomed.

631

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. Æneas joins Pandarus to oppose him; Pandarus is killed, and Æneas in great danger, but for the assistance of Venus; who, as she is removing her son from fight, is wounded on the hand by Diomed. Apollo seconds her in his rescue, and at length carries off Æneas to Troy where he is

healed in the temple of Pergamus. Mars rallies the| Thy fate was next, O Phæstus! doom'd to feel Trojans, and assists Hector to make a stand. In the The great Idomeneus' protended steel; mean time Æneas is restored to the field, and they Whom Borus sent (his son and only joy) overthrow several of the Greeks; among the rest Tle

polemus is slain by Sarpedon. Juno and Minerva From fruitful Tarné to the fields of Troy. descend to resist Mars; the latter incites Diomed to go The Cretan javelin reach'd him from afar, against that god; he wounds him, and sends him And pierced his shoulder as he mounts his car; groaning to heaven. Back from the car he tumbles to the ground,

The first battle continues through this book. The scene And everlasting shades his eyes surround. is the same as in the former.

BOOK V.

BUT Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,

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 bath'd 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,

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 art he tries,
The fatal lance arrests him as he flies;
From Menelaiis 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,
10 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.

20

From Meges' force the swift Pedæus fled,
Antenor's offspring from a foreign bed,
Whose generous spouse, Theano, heavenly fair,

But pierced his breast, and stretch'd him on the plain. Nursed the young stranger with a mother's care.

Seized with unusual fear, Idæus 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'd 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.

60

70

80

90

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,
30 And the cold tongue the grinning teeth divides.
Then died Hypsenor, generous and divine,
Sprung from the brave Dolopian's mighty line, 100
Who near adored Scamander made abode,
Priest of the stream, and honour'd as a god.
On him, amidst the flying numbers found,
Eurypylus inflicts a deadly wound;

40

On his broad shoulder fell the forceful brand,
Then glancing downward, lopp'd his holy hand,
Which stain'd with sacred blood the blushing
sand.

111

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
50 Deluge whole fields, and sweep the trees along;
Through ruin'd moles the rushing waves resounds,
O'erwhelms the bridge, and bursts the lofty bounds.
The yellow harvests of the ripen'd year,
And flatted vineyards, one sad waste appear!
While Jove descends in sluicy sheets of rain,
And all the labours of mankind are vain

120

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 breast-plate tore, 130
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 dreadful dart he can sustain;
Or Phoebus urged me to these fields in vain.

140

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.
Oh give my lance to reach the Trojan knight,
Whose arrow wounds the chief thou guard'st in fight;
And lay the boaster groveling 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 spirit cheer'd,
He feels each limb with wonted vigour light;
His beating bosom claims 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 controul;
Wake each paternal virtue in the 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,
And set to view the warring deities.

201

Young Xanthus next, and Thoon felt his rage:
The joy and hope of Phænops' 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 Æneas view'd
The foe prevailing, and his friends pursued.
Through the thick storm of singing spears he flies,
Exploring Pandarus with careful eyes.

210

220

150 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 unrival'd fame,
And boasted glory of the Lycian name?
Oh 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;
160 (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.

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.

171

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 Polyïdus to engage;

* Pandarus.

To him the Lycian: Whom your eyes behold, 230
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, 240
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;
181 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 councils with unheedful mind,

250

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.

261

270

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 bled: 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 the 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 hear 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.

280

Swift to Eneas' empty seat proceed,

And seize the coursers of ethereal breed:

The race of those, which once the thundering god
For ravish'd Ganymede on Tros bestow'd,

The best that e'er on earth's broad surface run, 330
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 Eneas 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.

341

He said, then shook the ponderous lance, and flung;
On his broad shield the sounding weapon rung,
Pirced 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 err'd, 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.
290 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 Æneas flies,
His spear extending where the carcass 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,

Their fierce approach the bold Sthenelus espied, 300 And threats aloud: the Greeks with longing eyes

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 Æneas, 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? 310
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,

350

360

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.
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,

380

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 Idæan grove,
320 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 :

391

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

Before her mother, Love's bright queen appears,
O'erwhelm'd 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.
Then she: This insult from no god I found,
An impious mortal gave the daring wound!
Behold the deed of haughty Diomed!

The heavenly coursers with the flowing manes: 400 'Twas in the son's defence the mother bled.

These, in proud triumph to the fleet convey'd,

No longer now a Trojan lord obey'd.

That charge to bold Deïpylus he gave,

470

The war with Troy no more the Grecians wage,
But with the gods (the immortal gods) engage.
Dioné 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,
And lodged in brazen dungeons underground,
Full thirteen moons imprison'd roar'd in vain;
410 Otus and Ephialtes held the chain :

(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 ravish'd 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:
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 Phœbus took: he casts a cloud around
The fainting chief, and wards the mortal wound. 430
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.

420 Pierced in his own dominions of the dead,
Where Phæon, sprinkling heavenly balm around,
Assuaged the glowing pangs, and closed the wound.
Rash, impious man! to stain the blest abodes,
And drench his arrows in the blood of gods!

491

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; 500
Thy distant wife, Egialé the fair,

Starting from sleep with a distracted air,

Shall rouse thy slaves, and her lost lord deplore,
The brave the great, the glorrous, 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,
440 And thus to Jove began the blue-eyed maid:

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:
There stopp'd the car, and there the coursers stood,
Fed by fair Iris with ambrosial food.

520

The sire of gods and men superior smiled,
450 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,
460 Though screen'd behind Apollo's mighty shield.