490

The son of Clytius in his daring hand,
The deck approaching, shakes a flaming brand;
But pierced by Telamon's huge lance expires;
Thundering he falls, and drops the extinguish'd fires.
Great Hector view'd him with a sad survey,
As stretch'd in dust before the stern he lay.
Oh! all of Trojan, all of Lycian race!
Stand to your arms, maintain this arduous space :
Lo! where the son of royal Clytius lies;
Ah save his arms, secure his obsequies.

This said, his eager javelin sought the foe:
But Ajax shunn'd the meditated blow.
Not vainly yet the forceful lance was thrown;
It stretch'd in dust unhappy Lycophron :
An exile long, sustain'd at Ajax' board,
A faithful servant to a foreign lord;
la peace, in war, for ever at his side,
Near his loved master, as he lived, he died.
From the high poop he tumbles on the sand,
And lies, a lifeless load, along the land.
With anguish Ajax views the piercing sight,
And thus inflames his brother to the fight:
Teucer, behold! extended on the shore
Our friend, our loved companion! now no more!
Dear as a parent, with a parent's care

To fight our wars, he left his native air.

This death deplored, to Hector's rage we owe;
Revenge, revenge it on the cruel foe.

560

(Thy arms no less suffice the lance to wield,)
And quit the quiver for the pondrous shield.
In the first ranks indulge thy thirst of fame,
Thy brave example shall the rest inflame.
Fierce as they are, by long successes vain;
To force our fleet, or e'en a ship to gain,
Asks toil, and sweat, and blood; their utmost might
Shall find its match-no more; 'tis ours to fight.
Then Teucer laid his faithless bow aside;
The fourfold buckler o'er his shoulder tied,
On his brave head a crested helm he placed,
With nodding horse-hair formidably graced :
500 A dart, whose point with brass refulgent shines,
The warrior wields; and his great brother joins.

510

520

530

Where are those darts on which the Fates attend?
And where the bow which Phobus taught to bend?
Impatient Teucer hastening to his aid,
Before the chief his ample bow display'd;
The well-stored quiver on his shoulders hung;
Then hiss'd his arrow, and the bow-string sung.
Clytus, Pisenor's son, renown'd in fame
(To thee, Polydamas! an honour'd naine,)
Drove through the thickest of the embattled plains
The startling steeds, and shook his eager reins.
As all on glory ran his ardent mind,
The pointed death arrests him from behind.
Through his fair neck the thrilling arrow flies;
In youth's fair bloom reluctantly he dies.
Harl'd from the lofty seat, at distance far,
The headlong coursers spurn his empty car.
Till sad Polydamas the steeds restrain'd,
And gave, Astynous, to thy careful hand;
Then, fired to vengeance, rush'd amidst the foe,
Rage edged his sword, and strengthen'd every blow.
Once more bold Teucer, in his country's cause,
At Hector's breast a chosen arrow draws;
And had the weapon found the destined way,
Thy fall, great Trojan! had renown'd that day.
But Hector was not doom'd to perish then :
The all-wise Disposer of the fates of men
(Imperial Jove) his present death withstands;
Nor was such glory due to Teucer's hands.
At its full stretch as the tough string he drew,
Struck by an arm unseen, it burst in two;

540

This Hector saw, and thus express'd his joy; 570
Ye troops of Lycia, Dardanus, and Troy!
Be mindful of yourselves, your ancient fame,
And spread your glory with the navy's flame.
Jove is with us; I saw his hand but now,
From the proud archer strike his vaunted bow.
Indulgent Jove; how plain thy favours shine,
When happy nations bear the marks divine!
How easy then, to see the sinking state
Of realms accursed, deserted, reprobate!
Such is the fate of Greece, and such is ours;
Behold, ye warriors, and exert your powers.
Death is the worst; a fate which all must try ;
And, for our country, 'tis a bliss to die.
The gallant man, though slain in fight he be,
Yet leaves his nation safe, his children free
Entails a debt on all the grateful state;

His own brave friends shall glory in his fate;
His wife live honour'd, all his race succeed
And late posterity enjoy the deed!

580

590

600

This roused the soul in every Trojan breast.
The godlike Ajax next his Greeks address'd:
How long, ye warriors of the Argive race!
(To generous Argos what a dire disgrace!)
How long on these cursed confines will ye lie,
Yet undetermined or to live, or die?
What hopes remain, what methods to retire,
If once your vessels catch the Trojan fire?
Mark how the flames approach, how near they fall,
How Hector calls, and Troy obeys his call!
Not to the dance that dreadful voice invites,
It calls to death, and all the rage of fights.
'Tis now no time for wisdom or debates;
To your own hands are trusted all your fates;
And better far in one decisive strife,
One day should end our labour, or our life;
Than keep this hard-got inch of barren sands,
Still press'd, and press'd by such inglorious hands.
The listening Grecians feel their leader's flame,
And every kindling bosom pants for fame.
Then mutual slaughters spread on either side;
By Hector here the Phocian Schedius died;
There, pierced by Ajax, sunk Laodamas,
Chief of the foot, of old Antenor's race.

Down dropp'd the bow; the shaft with brazen head Polydamas laid Otus on the sand,

Fell innocent, and on the dust lay dead.
The astonish'd archer to great Ajax cries:
Some god prevents our destined enterprise;

Some god, propitious to the Trojan foe,

Has from my arm unfailing, struck the bow,

550

The fierce commander of the Epeian band.
His lance bold Meges at the victor threw :
The victor stooping, from the death withdrew.
That valued life, O Phoebus, was thy care)
But Crosmus bosom took the flying spear:

610

And broke the nerve my hands had twined with art, His corpse fell bleeding on the slippery shore; 620

Strong to impel the flight of many a dart.

Since Heaven commands it (Ajax made reply)

Dismiss thy bow, and lay thy arrows by;

His radiant arms triumphant Meges bore,
Dolops, the son of Lampns, rushes on,
Sprung from the race of old Laomedon,

And famed for prowess in a well-fought field;
He pierced the centre of his sounding shield:
But Meges Phyleus' ample breast-plate wore
(Well known in fight on Selle's winding shore;
For king Euphetes gave the golden mail,
Compact, and firm with many a jointed scale ;)
Which oft, in cities storm'd, and battles won,
Had saved the father, and now saves the son.
Full at the Trojan's head he urged his lance,
Where the high plumes above the helmet dance,
New tinged with Tyrian dye; in dust below,
Shorn from the crest, the purple honours glow.
Meantime their fight the Spartan king survey'd,
And stood by Meges' side, a sudden aid,
Through Dolops' shoulder urged his forceful dart,
Which held its passage through the panting heart,
And issued at his breast. With thundering sound
The warrior falls, extended on the ground.
In rush the conquering Greeks to spoil the slain:
But Hector's voice excites his kindred train;
The hero most, from Hicetaon sprung,
Fierce Melanippus, gallant, brave, and young;
He (ere to Troy the Grecians cross'd the main)
Fed his large oxen on Percotè's plain;
But when, oppress'd, his country claim'd his care,
Return'd to Ilion, and excell'd in war;
For this, in Priam's court he held his place,
Beloved no less than Priam's royal race.
Him Hector singled, as his troops he led,
And thus inflamed him, pointing to the dead:
Lo, Melanippus! lo where Dolops lies;
And is it thus our royal kinsman dies?
O'ermatch'd he falls; to two at once a prey,
And lo! they bear the bloody arms away
!
Come on a distant war no longer wage,
But hand to hand thy country's foes engage:
Till Greece at once, and all her glory end,
Or Ilion from her towery height descend,
Heaved from the lowest stone; and bury all
In one sad sepulchre, one common fall.

Advancing Melanippus met the dart

With his bold breast, and felt it in his heart;
Thundering he falls; his falling arms resound,
And his broad buckler rings against the ground.
The victor leaps upon his prostrate prize;
Thus on a roe the well-breathed beagle flies,
630 And rends his side, fresh-bleeding with the dart
The distant hunter sent into his heart.
Observing Hector to the rescue flew ;
Bold as he was, Antilochus withdrew.
So when a savage, ranging o'er the plain,
Has torn the shepherd's dog, or shepherd swain,
While, conscious of the deed, he glares around,
And hears the gathering multitude resound,
Timely he flies the yet untasted food,
And gains the friendly shelter of the wood.
So fears the youth; all Troy with shouts pursue,
While stones and darts in mingled tempests flew;
But enter'd in the Grecian ranks, he turns
His manly breast, and with new fury burns.

641

700

710

Now on the fleet the tides of Trojans drove,
Fierce to fulfil the stern decrees of Jove :
The sire of gods, confirming Thetis prayer,
The Grecian ardour quench'd in deep despair;
But lifts to glory Troy's prevailing bands,
Swells all their hearts and strengthens all their hands.
650 On Ida's top he waits with longing eyes,

To view the navy blazing to the skies;
Then, nor till then, the scale of war shall turn, 720
The Trojans fly, and conquer'd Ilion burn,
These fates revolved in his almighty mind,
He raises Hector to the work design'd,
Bids him with more than mortal fury glow,
And drives him, like a lightning, on the foe.
So Mars, when human crimes for vengeance call,
Shakes his huge javelin, and whole armies fall.
660 Not with more rage a conflagration rolls,

740

Wraps the vast mountains, and involves the poles.
He foams with wrath; beneath his gloomy brow 730
Like fiery meteors his red eye-balls glow:
The radiant helmet on his temples burns,
Waves when he nods, and lightens as he turns:
For Jove his splendour round the chief had thrown,
And cast the blaze of both the hosts on one.
Unhappy glories! for his fate was near,
Due to stern Pallas, and Pelides' spear:
670 Yet Jove deferr'd the death he was to pay,
And gave what Fate allowed, the honours of a day!
Now all on fire for fame, his breast, his eyes
Burn at each foe, and single every prize,
Still at the closest ranks, the thickest fight,
He points his ardour and exerts his might.
The Grecian phalanx, moveless as a tower,
On all sides batter'd, yet resists his power:
So some tall rock o'erhangs the hoary main,
By winds assail'd, by billows beat in vain,
680 Unmoved it hears, above, the tempest blow,
And sees the watery mountains break below.
Girt in surrounding flames, he seems to fall,
Like fire from Jove, and bursts upon them all:
Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends,
And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends;
White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud
Howl o'er the masts, and sing through every shroud:
Pale, trembling, tired, the sailors freeze with fears:
And instant death on every wave appears.
690 So pale the Greeks the eyes of Hector meet,

Hector (this said) rush'd forward on the foes:
With equal ardour Melanippus glows.
Then Ajax thus-Oh Greeks! respect your fame,
Respect yourselves, and learn an honest shame:
Let mutual reverence mutual warmth inspire,
And catch from breast to breast the noble fire,
On valour's side the odds of combat lie,
The brave live glorious, or lamented die ;
The wretch that trembles in the field of fame,
Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame.
His generous sense he not in vain imparts;
It sunk, and rooted in the Grecian hearts;
They join, they throng, they thicken at his call,
And flank the navy with a brazen wall;
Shields touching shields, in order blaze above,
And stop the Trojans though impell'd by Jove.
The fiery Spartan first, with loud applause,
Warms the bold son of Nestor in his cause.
Is there (he said) in arms a youth like you,
So strong to fight, so active to pursue?
Why stand you distant, nor attempt a deed?
Lift thy bold lance, and make some Trojan bleed.
He said; and backward to the lines retired;
Forth rush'd the youth, with martial fury fired,
Beyond the foremost ranks; his lance he threw,
And round the black battalions cast his view.
The troops of Troy recede with sudden fear,
*le the swift javelin hiss'd along in air.

The chief so thunders, and so shakes the fleet.

750

760 And now to this, and now to that he flies :
Admiring numbers follow with their eyes.
From ship to ship thus Ajax swiftly flew,
No less the wonder of the warring crew,
As furious Hector thunder'd threats aloud,
And rush'd enraged before the Trojan crowd:
Then swift invades the ships, whose beaky prores
Lay rank'd contiguous on the bending shores:
So the strong eagle from his airy height,
Who marks the swans' or cranes' embodied flight,
Stoops down impetuous, while they light for food,
And, stooping, darkens with his wings the flood.
Jove leads him on with his almighty hand,
And breathes fierce spirits in his following band.
The warring nations meet, the battle roars,
Thick beats the combat on the sounding prores.
Thou wouldst have thought, so furious was their fire,
No force could tame them, and no toil could tire;
As if new vigour from new fights they won,
And the long battle was but then begun.
780 Greece yet unconquer'd, kept alive the war,
Secure of death, confiding in despair;
Troy, in proud hopes, already view'd the main
Bright with the blaze, and red with heroes slain!
Like strength is felt from hope and from despair,
And each contends, as his were all the war.

Now shakes his spear, now lifts, and now protends; 820 E'en yet the Greeks with piercing shouts inspires, Amidst attacks, and deaths, and darts, and fires: O friends! O heroes! names for ever dear, Once sons of Mars, and thunderbolts of war! Ah! yet be mindful of your old renown, Your great forefathers' virtues and your own. What aids expect you in this utmost strait ? What bulwarks rising between you and fate?

No aids, no bulwarks, your retreat attend;
No friends to help, no city to defend :
This spot is all you have, to lose or keep;
There stand the Trojans, and here rolls the deep
'Tis hostile ground you tread; your native lands 900
Far, far from hence: your fates are in your hands.

Raging he spoke; nor farther wastes his breath,
But turns his javelin to the work of death.
Whate'er bold Trojan arm'd his daring hands,
Against the sable ships with flaming brands;
So well the chief his naval weapon sped,
The luckless warrior at his stern lay dead:
Full twelve, the boldest, in a moment fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell.

BOOK XVI.

ARGUMENT.

30

Whate'er the cause, reveal thy secret care,
And speak those sorrows which a friend would share.
A sigh, that instant, from his bosom broke,
Another follow'd, and Patroclus spoke:
Let Greece at length with pity touch thy breast,
Thyself a Greek; and, once, of Greeks the best!
Lo! every chief that might her fate prevent,
Lies pierced with wounds, and bleeding in his tent.
Eurypylus, Tydides, Atreus' son,

And wise Ulysses, at the navy groan,

More for their country's wounds, than for their own.
Their pain, soft arts of pharmacy can ease,

Thy breast alone no lenitives appease.

Shall curse that fierce, that unforgiving mind. O man unpitying! if of man thy race; But sure thou spring'st not from a soft embrace, The sixth Battle; the Acts and Death of Patroclus. Nor ever amorous hero caused thy birth, Patroclus (in pursuance of the request of Nestor in the Nor ever tender goddess brought thee forth. eleventh book) entreats Achilles to suffer him to go to Some rugged rock's hard entrails gave thee form, 50 the assistance of the Greeks with Achilles' troops and. And raging seas produced thee in a storm, armour. He agrees to it, but at the same time charges A soul well-suiting that tempestuous kind, him to content himself with rescuing the fleet, without further pursuit of the enemy. The armour, horses So rough thy manners, so untamed thy mind. soldiers, and officers of Achilles are described. Achil. If some dire oracle thy breast alarm, les offers a libation for the success of his friend, after If aught from Jove, or Thetis, stop thy arm, which Patroclus leads the Myrmidons to battle. The Trojans, at the sight of Patroclus in Achilles's armour, taking him for that hero, are cast into the utmost consternation: he beats them off from the vessels. Hector himself flies. Sarpedon is killed, though Jupiter was

averse to his fate. Several other particulars of the battle are described; in the heat of which, Patroclus, neglecting the orders of Achilles, pursues the foe to the walls of Troy; where Apollo repulses and disarms him, Euphorbus wounds him, and Hector kills him; which concludes the book.

BOOK XVI.

So warr'd both armies on the ensanguined shore,
While the black vessels smoked with human gore.
Meantime Patroclus to Achilles flies;

The streaming tears fall copious from his eyes;
Not faster trickling to the plains below,
From the tall rock the sable waters flow.
Divine Pelides, with compassion moved,
Thus spoke, indulgent to his best beloved :

Patroclus, say, what grief thy bosom bears,
That flows so fast in these unmanly tears?
No girl, no infant whom the mother keeps
From her loved breast, with fonder passion weeps;
Not more the mother's soul that infant warms,
Clung to her knees, and reaching at her arms,
Than thou hast mine! Oh tell me, to what end
Thy melting sorrows thus pursue thy friend?
Grievest thou for me, or for my martial band?
Or come sad tidings from our native land?
Our fathers live (our first, most tender care,)
The good Menatius breathes the vital air,
And hoary Peleus yet extends his days;
Pleased in their age to hear their children's praise.
Or may some meaner cause thy pity claim?
Perhaps yon relics of the Grecian name,
Doom'd in their ships to sink by fire and sword,
And pay the forfeit of their haughty lord?

Some beam of comfort yet on Greece may shine,
If I but lead the Myrmidonian line:
Clad in thy dreadful arms if I appear,
Proud Troy shall tremble, and desert the war:
Without thy person Greece shall win the day,
And thy mere image chace her foes away.
Press'd by fresh forces, her o'erlabour'd train
Shall quit the ships, and Greece respire again.

Thus, blind to Fate! with supplicating breath,
Thou begg'st his arms, and in his arms thy death,
Unfortunately good! a boding sigh

Thy friend return'd; and with it this reply:

60

70

Patroclus! thy Achilles knows no fears;
Nor words from Jove, nor oracles he hears;
Nor aught a mother's caution can suggest;
The tyrant's pride lies rooted in my breast.
My wrongs, my wrongs, my constant thought engage;
Those, my sole oracles, inspire my rage.

I made him tyrant: gave him power to wrong
E'en me: I felt it: and shall feel it long.
The maid, my black-eyed maid, he forced away,
Due to the toils of many a well-fought day;
10 Due to my conquest of her father's reign;
Due to the votes of all the Grecian train.
From me he forced her; me, the bold and brave; 80
Disgraced, dishonour'd, like the meanest slave.
But bear we this-the wrongs I grieve are past:
'Tis time our fury should relent at last :

I fix'd its date; the day I wish'd appears:
Now Hector to my ships his battle bears,
The flames my eyes, the shouts invade my ears
Go, then, Patroclus! court fair honour's charms
20 In Troy's famed fields, and in Achilles' arms:
Lead forth my martial Myrmidons to fight,
Go, save the fleets, and conquer in my right.
See the thin reliques of their baffled band,
At the last edge of yon deserted land!
Behold all Ilion on their ships descends;
How the cloud blackens, how the storm impends!

90

It was not thus, when at my sight amazed,
Troy saw and trembled, as this helmet blazed:
Had not the injurious king our friendship lost,
Yon ample trench had buried half her host.
No camps, no bulwarks, now the Trojans fear,
Those are not dreadful, no Achilles there :
No longer flames the lance of Tydeus' son;
No more your general calls his heroes on;
Hector, alone, I hear; his dreadful breath

He cased his limbs in brass; and first around
His manly legs with silver buckles bound
The clasping greaves; then to his breast applies
The flaming cuirass, of a thousand dyes;
Emblazed with studs of gold his falchion shone
100 In the rich belt, as in the starry zone:

Achilles' shield his ample shoulders spread,
Achilles' helmet nodded o'er his head :
Adorn'd in all his terrible array,

Commands your slaughter, or proclaims your death. He flash'd around intolerable day.

Yet now, Patroclus, issue to the plain;
Now save the ships, the rising fires restrain,
And give the Greeks to visit Greece again.

Alone, untouch'd, Pelides' javelin stands,
Not to be poised but by Pelides' hands;
From Pelion's shady brow the plant entire,
Old Chiron rent, and shaped it for his sire;
Whose son's great arm alone the weapon wields,
110 The death of heroes and the dread of fields.

But heed my words, and mark a friend's command,
Who trusts his fame and honours in thy hand,
And from thy deeds expects the Achaian host
Shall render back the beauteous maid he lost.
Rage uncontroll'd through all the hostile crew,
But touch not Hector; Hector is my due.
Though Jove in thunder should command the war,
Be just, consult my glory, and forbear.

The fleet once saved, desist from farther chase,
Nor lead to Ilion's walls the Grecian race;
Some adverse god thy rashness may destroy;
Some god, like Phoebus, ever kind to Troy.

Then brave Automedon (an honour'd name,
The second to his lord in love and fame,
In peace his friend, and partner of the war)
The winged coursers harness'd to the car;
Xanthus and Balius, of immortal breed,
Sprung from the wind, and like the wind in speed;
Whom the wing'd Harpy, swift Podargè, bore,
By Zephyr pregnant on the breezy shore:
Swift Pedasus was added to their side

Let Greece redeem'd from this destructive strait, 120 (Once great Aëtion's, now Achilles' pride,)

Do her own work; and leave the rest to Fate.

Oh! would to all the immortal powers above,
Apollo, Pallas, and almighty Jove,

That not one Trojan might be left alive,
And not a Greek of all the race survive;
Might only we the vast destruction shun,
And only we destroy the accursed town.
Such conference held the chiefs: while on the
strand,

Who, like in strength, in swiftness, and in grace,
A mortal courser, match'd the immortal race.
Achilles speeds from tent to tent, and warms
His hardy Myrmidons to blood and arms.
All breathing death, around their chief they stand,
A grim, terrific, formidable band:

170

180

190

Grim as voracious wolves, that seek the springs,
When scalding thirst their burning bowels wrings;
When some tall stag, fresh slaughter'd in the wood,
Has drench'd their wild insatiate throats with blood,
130 To the black fount they rush, a hideous throng,
With paunch distended, and with lolling tongue;
Fire fills their eye, their black jaws belch the gore,
And, gorged with slaughter, still they thirst for
201

140

near

Great Jove with conquest crown'd the Trojan band.
Ajax no more the sounding storm sustain'd,
So thick the darts an iron tempest rain'd:
On his tired arm the weighty buckler hung;
His hollow helm with falling javelins rung;
His breath, in quick, short pantings, comes and goes;
And painful sweat from all his members flows:
Spent and o'erpower'd, he barely breathes at most;
Yet scarce an army stirs him from his post :
Dangers on dangers all around him grow,
And toil to toil, and woe succeeds to woe.
Say, Muses, throned above the starry frame,
How first the navy blazed with Trojan flame?
Stern Hector waved his sword; and standing
Where furious Ajax plied his ashen spear,
Full on the lance a stroke so justly sped,
That the broad falchion lopp'd its brazen head:
His pointless spear the warrior shakes in vain;
The brazen head falls sounding on the plain.
Great Ajax saw, and own'd the hand divine,
Confessing Jove, and trembling at the sign;
Warn'd he retreats. Then swift on all sides pour 150
The hissing brands; thick streams the fiery shower;
O'er the high stern the curling volumes rise,
And sheets of rolling smoke involve the skies.
Divine Achilles view'd the rising flames,
And emote his thigh, and thus aloud exclaims :
Arm, arm, Patroclus! Lo, the blaze aspires!
The glowing ocean reddens with the fires.
Arm, ere our vessels catch the spreading flame;
Arm, ere the Grecians be no more a name;
I haste to bring the troops-the hero said;
The friend with ardour and with joy obey'd.

more.

Like furious rush'd the Myrmidonian crew,
Such their dread strength, and such their dreadful

view.

High in the midst the great Achilles stands,
Directs their order, and the war commands.
He, loved of Jove, had launch'd for Ilion's shores
Full fifty vessels, mann'd with fifty oars:
Five chosen leaders the fierce bands obey,
Himself supreme in valour as in sway.

First march'd Menestheus, of celestial birth,
Derived from thee, whose waters wash the earth,
Divine Spirchius! Jove-descending flood!
A mortal mother mixing with a god.
Such was Menestheus, but miscall'd by fame
The son of Borus, that espoused the dame.

Eudorus next; whom Polymele the gay,
Famed in the graceful dance, produced to day.
Her, sly Cyllenius loved, on her would gaze,
As with swift step she form'd the running maze :
To her high chamber from Diana's quire,
The god pursued her, urged, and crown'd his fire.
The son confess'd his father's heavenly race,
And heir'd his mother's swiftness in the chase.
Strong Echecleus, bless'd in all those charms
That pleased a god, succeeded to her arms;
160 Not conscious of those loves, long hid from fame,
With gifts of price he sought and won the dame;

210

220