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;
Like timorous flocks, the Trojans in their wall 160
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,
100 Thus, turning, warn'd the intrepid Diomed:
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,
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 91
Low sunk on earth, the Trojan strikes the skies.
Then Jove from Ida's top his horror 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 god 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 men, 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 mane
Curled 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 incumber'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 Laërtes' 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 Æneas' 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, e'en he may learn to fear
The thirsty fury of my flying spear.
Thus said the chief; and Nestor, skill'd in war,
Approves his council, 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 arms 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.
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:
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;
120 Not e'en 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;
131 Go, less than woman, in the form of man!
To scale our walls, to wrap our towers in flames, 200
To lead in exile the fair Phrygian dames,
Thy once proud hopes, presumptuous prince! are
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 140 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,
150 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 wrapp'd in smoke and fires
All Greece, encompass'd, in one blaze expires.
220 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 t'escape from Hector's hand,
And save the relics of the Grecian land!
Furious he said; then, bending o'er the yoke,
Encouraged his proud steeds, while thus he spoke:
Now, Xanthus, Ethon, 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 Aëtion'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: 241
And thus to Neptune: Thou whose force can
make
The steadfast earth from her foundation shake,
Seest thou the Greeks by fates unjust oppress'd,
Now swells thy heart in that immortal breast?
Yet Ega, Helicé, thy power obey,
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 Idæan 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.
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 Panomphæan 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 double 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 Agelais (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;
250 The Atridæ first, the Ajaces next succeed:
Meriones, like Mars in arms renown'd,
And godlike Idomen, now pass'd the mound:
Evæmon'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, Dæter, Ophelestes slain :
Bold Hamopaön breathless sunk to ground;
The bloody pile great Melanippus crown'd.
Heaps fell on heaps, sad trophies of his art;
A Trojan ghost attended every dart.
Great Agamemnon views with joyful eye
The ranks grow thinner as his arrows fly;
Oh youth for ever 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 distinguish'd car,
With coursers dreadful in the ranks of war;
Now godlike Hector, to whose matchless might
Jove gave the glory of the destined fight,
Squadrons on squadrons drives, and fills the fields 260
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.
Oh, 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! oh 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!
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.
Their strong distress the wife of Jove survey'd;
Then pensive thus, to war's triumphant maid :
Oh 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,
360 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! 430
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,
370 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 Euristheus 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,
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 Gorythio'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,
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 Phœbus 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 a mighty shade;
Till great Alastor and Mecistheus bore
The batter'd archer groaning to the shore.
380 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
390 (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!
That 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, pondrous, 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
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 grasping on the ground;
Before the ships a desperate stand they made,
And fired the troops, and call'd 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!
But Jove incensed, from Ida's top survey'd,
And thus enjoin'd the many-colour'd maid:
Trembling afar the offending powers appear'd,
Confused and silent, for his frown they fear'd.
Thaumantia! mount the winds, and stop their car; He saw their soul, and thus his word imparts;
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;
Pallas and Juno! say, why heave your hearts? 490 Soon was your battle o'er: proud Troy retired Before your face, and in your wrath expired.
Their coursers crush'd beneath the wheels shall lie, But know, who'er almighty power withstand!
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;
Το great Olympus' shining gates 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 you 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.
Unmatch'd our force; unconquer'd is our hand :
Who shall the sovereign of the skies controul?
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,
500 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.
Through 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, oh tyrant of the skies!
Strength and omnipotence invest thy throne:
'Tis thine to punish; ours to grieve alone.
510 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;
520 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,
E'en 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 thou wilt, to earth's remotest bound,
530 Where on her utmost verge the seas resound;
Where cursed läpetus and Saturn dwell,
Fast by the brink, within the steams 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.
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.
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 courses 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, 550
The eternal Thunderer sat enthron'd in gold,
High heaven the footstool of his feet he makes,
And wide beneath him all Olympus shakes.
Now deep in ocean sunk the lamp of light,
And drew behind the cloudy veil of night:
The conquering Trojans mourn his beams de-
cay'd;
The Greeks rejoicing bless the friendly shade.
The victors keep the field; and Hector calls
A martial council near the navy walls:
These two Scamander's bank apart he ied,
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 this 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;
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night!
O'er heaven's clear 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 number'd arms, by fits, thick flashes send,
Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps of corn,
640 And ardent warriors wait the rising morn.
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 in 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,
Sheath'd 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 scale 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 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 head-stalls 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!
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.
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 farther
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 be-
ginning 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,
And heaven-bred horror, on the Grecian part,
670 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 Ægean 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,
680 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.
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