Rise, son of Tyaeus. to the brave and strong
Rest seems inglorious, and the night too long.
But sleep'st thou now? when from yon hill the foe
Hangs o'er the fleet, and shades our walls below?
At this, soft slumber from his eyelids fled;
The warrior saw the hoary chief, and said:
Wondrous old man! whose soul no respite knows
Though years and honours bid thee seek repose.
Let younger Greeks our sleeping warriors wake;
· Ill fits thy age these toils to undertake.
My friend (he answer'd), generous is thy care
These toils, my subjects and my sons might bear
Their loyal thoughts and pious loves conspire
To ease a sovereign, and relieve a sire.
But now the last despair surrounds our host,
No hour must pass, no moment must be lost;
Each single Greek, in this conclusive strife,
In this great enterprise, is only thine.
Just be thy choice, without affection made;
To birth or office no respect be paid;
Let worth determine here. The monarch spake,
And inly trembled for his brother's sake.
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Then thus (the godlike Diomed rejoin'd)
My choice declares the impulse of my mind.
How can I doubt while great Ulysses stands
To lend his counsels, and assist our hands;
A chief, whose safety is Minerva's care;
So famed, so dreadful, in the works of war.
Bless'd in his conduct, I no aid require;
Wisdom like his might pass through flames of fire. 29)
It fits thee not, before these chiefs of fame,
(Replied the sage) to praise me or to blame :
Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe,
Are lost on hearers that our merits know.
But let us haste-Night rolls the hours away.
The reddening orient shews the coming day,
The stars shine fainter on the ethereal plains,
And of Night's empire but a third remains.
Thus having spoke, with generous ardour press d,
In arms terrific their huge limbs they dress'd.
210 A two-edged falchion Thrasymed the brave,
And ample buckler, to Tydides gave:
Then in a leathern helm he cased his head,
Shornof its crest, and with no plume o'erspread:
(Such as by youths unused to arms are worn.
No spoils enrich it, and no studs adorn).
Next him Ulysses took a shining sword,
A bow and quiver with bright arrows stored:
A well-proved casque, with leather braces bound,
(Thy gift, Meriones) his temples crown'd:
tands on the sharpest edge of death or life:
Yet, if my years thy kind regard engage,
Employ thy youth as I employ my age;
Succeed to these my cares, and rouse the rest;
He serves me most, who serves bis country best.
This said, the hero o'er his shoulders flung
A lion's spoils, that to his ancles hung;
Then seized his ponderous lance, and strode along.
Meges the bold, with Ajax famed for speed,
The warrior roused, and to the entrenchments led.
And now the chiefs approach the nightly guard;
A wakeful squadron, each in arms prepared:
The unwearied watch their listening leaders keep
And, couching close, repel invading sleep.
So faithful dogs their fleecy charge maintain,
With toil protected from the prowling train,
When the gaunt lioness, with hunger bold,
Springs from the mountains toward the guarded fold:
Through breaking woods her rustling course they hear;
Loud, and more loud, the clamours strike their ear
Of hounds and men; they start, they gaze around,
Watch every side, and turn to every sound.
Thus watch'd the Grecians, cautious of surprise,
Each voice, each motion, drew their ears and eyes;
Each step of passing feet increased the affright;
And hostile Troy was ever full in sight.
Nestor with joy the wakeful band survey'd,
And thus accosted through the gloomy shade
Tis well, my sons! your nightly cares employ ;
Else must our host become the scorn of Troy.
Watch thus, and Greece shall live-The hero said;
Then oer the trench the following chieftains led.
His son, and god-like Merion, march'd behind,
(For these the princes to their council join'd).
The trenches pass'd, the assembled kings around
In silent state the consistory crown'd.
A place there was yet undefiled with gore,
The spot where Hector stopp'd his rage before.
When night descending, from his vengeful hand
Reprieved the relics of the Grecian band:
(The plain beside with mangled corps was spread,
And all his progress mark'd by heaps of dead.)
'There sat the mournful kings: when Neleus' son
The council opening, in these words begun :
220 Soft wool within; without, in order spread,
A boar's white teeth grinn'd horrid o'er his head.
This from Amyntor, rich Ormenus' son,
Autolychus by fraudful rapine won,
And gave Amphidamas; from him the prize
Molus received, the pledge of social ties;
The helmet next by Merion was possess'd,
And now Ulysses' thoughtful temples press'd.
Thus sheath'd in arms, the council they forsake,
And dark through paths oblique their progress také.
230 Just then, in sign she favour'd their intent,
A long-wing'd heron great Minerva sent:
This, though surrounding shades obscured their view,
By the shrill clang and whistling wings, they knew.
As from the right she soar'd, Ulysses pray'd,
235 Hail'd the glad omen, and address'd the maid:
O daughter of that god, whose arm can wield
The avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield!
O thou for ever present in my way,
Who all my motions, all my toils survey!
240 Safe may we pass beneath the gloomy shade,
Safe by thy succour to our ships convey'd!
And let some deed this signal night adorn,
To claim the tears of Trojans yet unborn.
Then godlike Diomed preferr'd his prayer:
245 Daughter of Jove, unconquer'd Pallas! hear.
Is there (said he) a chief so greatly brave,
His life to hazard, and his country save?
Lives there a man who singly dares to go
To yonder camp, or seize some straggling foe?
Or favour'd by the night approach so near,
Their speech, their counsels, and designs to hear?
If to besiege our navies they prepare,
Or Troy once more must be the seat of war?
This could he learn, and to our peers recite,
And pass unharm'd the dangers of the night;
What fame were his through all succeeding days,
While Phoebus shines, or men have tongues to praise !
What gifts his grateful country would bestow!
What must not Greece to her deliverer owe!
A sable ewe each leader should provide,
With each a sable lambkin by her side;
At every rite his share should be increased,
And his the foremost honours of the feast.
Fear held them mute: alone untaught to fear,
Tydides spoke-The man you seek is here.
Great queen of arms, whose favour Tydeus won,
As thou defend'st the sire, defend the son.
When on Esopus' banks the banded powers
Of Greece he left, and sought the Theban towers,
Peace was his charge; received with peaceful show,
He went a legate, but return'd a foe:
Then help'd by thee, and cover'd by thy shield,
He fought with numbers, and made numbers yield.
So now be present, O celestial maid!
255 So still continue to the race thine aid!
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What glorious man, for high attempts prepared,
Dares greatly venture for a rich reward?
Of yonder fleet a bold discovery make,
What watch they keep, and what resolves they take?
If now subdued they meditate their flight,
And spent with toil neglect the watch of night?
His be the chariot that shall please him most,
Of all the plunder of the vanquish'd host;
His the fair steeds that all the rest excel,
And his the glory to have served so well.
A youth there was among the tribes of Troy,
Dolon his name, Eumedes' only boy:
(Five girls beside the reverend herald told.)
Rich was the son in brass, and rich in gold;
Not bleas'd by nature with the charms of face,
But swift of foot, and matchless in the race.
Hector (he said) my courage bids me meet
This high achievement, and explore the fleet:
But first exalt thy sceptre to the skies,
And swear to grant me the demanded prize;
The immortal coursers, and the glittering car,
That bear Pelides through the ranks of war.
Encouraged thus, no idle scout I go,
Fulfil thy wish, their whole intention know,
E'en to the royal tent pursue my way,
And all their counsels, all their aims betray.
The chief then heaved the golden sceptre high,
Attesting thus the monarch of the sky:
Be witness thou! immortal lord of all!
Whose thunder shakes the dark aërial hall :
By none but Dolon shall this prize be borne,
And him alone the immortal steeds adorn.
Thus Hector swore: the gods were call'd in vain,
But the rash youth prepares to scour the plain:
Across his back the bended bow he flung,
A wolf's grey hide around his shoulders hung;
A ferret's downy fur his helmet lined,
And in his hand a pointed javelin shined.
Then (never to return) he sought the shore,
And trod the path his feet must tread no more.
Scarce had he pass'd the steeds and Trojan throng
(Still bending forward as he coursed along),
When, on the hollow way, the approaching tread
Ulysses mark'd, and thus to Diomed:
O friend! I hear some step of hostile feet
Moving this way, or hastening to the fleet;
Some spy perhaps, to lurk beside the main,
Or nightly pillager that strips the slain.
Yet let him pass, and win a little space;
Then rush behind him, and prevent his pace.
But if too swift of foot he flies before,
Confine his course along the fleet and shore,
Betwixt the camp and him our spears employ,
And intercept his hoped return to Troy.
To whom Ulysses made this wise reply:
Whoe'er thou art, be bold, nor fear to die.
What moves thee, say, when sleep has closed the sight.
To roam the silent fields in dead of night?
Camest thou the secrets of our camp to find,
By Hector prompted, or thy daring mind?
Or art some wretch by hopes of plunder led
Through heaps of carnage to despoil the dead?
Then thus pale Dolon with a fearful look,
370 (Still as he spoke his limbs with horror shook):
Hither I came, by Hector's words deceived;
Much did he promise, rashly I believed:
No less a bribe than great Achilles' car,
And those swift steeds that sweep the ranks of war,
375 Urged me, unwilling, this attempt to make;
To learn what counsels, what resolves you take:
lf, now subdued, you fix your hopes on flight,
And tired with toils, neglect the watch of night.
Bold was thy aim, and glorious was the prize!
380 (Ulysses with a scornful smile replies).
Far other rulers those proud steeds demand,
And scorn the guidance of a vulgar hand;
E'en great Achilles scarce their rage can tame,
Achilles, sprung from an immortal dame.
385 But say, be faithful, and the truth recite;
Where lies encamp'd the Trojan chief to-night?
Where stand his coursers? in what quarter sleep
Their other princes? tell what watch they keep:
Say, since their conquest, what their counsels are;
390 Or here to combat, from their city far,
Or back to Ilion's walls transfer the war.
Ulysses thus, and thus Eumedes' son:
What Dolon knows, his faithful tongue shall own.
Hector, the peers assembling in his tent,
395 A counsel holds at Ilus' monument.
With that they stepp'd aside, and stoop'd their head
(As Dolon pass'd) behind a heap of dead:
Along the path the spy unwary flew;
Soft, at just distance, both the chiefs pursue.
So distant they, and such the space between,
No certain guards the nightly watch partake;
Where'er yon fires ascend, the Trojans wake;
Anxious for Troy, the guard the natives keep;
Safe in their cares, the auxiliar forces sleep,
Whose wives and infants, from the danger far,
Discharge their souls of half the fears of war.
Then sleep those aids among the Trojan train (Inquired the chief), or scatter'd o'er the plain? To whom the spy: Their powers they thus dispose:
405 The Pæons, dreadful with their bended bows,
The Carians, Caucons, the Pelasgian host,
And Leleges, encamp along the coast.
Not distant far, lie higher on the land
The Lycian, Mysian, and Mæonian band,
As when two teams of mules divide the green
(To whom the hind like shares of land allows),
When now few furrows part the approaching ploughs.
Now Dolon listening heard them as they pass'd;
Hector (he thought) had sent, and check'd his haste,
Till scarce at distance of a javelin's throw,
No voice succeeding, he perceived the foe.
As when two skilful hounds the leveret wind;
410 And Phrygia's horse, by Thymbras' ancient wall;
The Thracians utmost, and apart from all.
These Troy but lately to her succour won,
Led on by Rhesus, great Eioneus' son:
I saw his coursers in proud triumph go,
Swift as the wind, and white as winter snow:
Rich silver plates his shining car infold;
His solid arms, refulgent flame with gold;
No mortal shoulders suit the glorious load,
Celestial panoply, to grace a god!
Let me, unhappy, to your fleet be borne,
Or leave me here, a captive's fate to mourn,
In cruel chains; till your return reveal
The truth or falsehood of the news I tell.
Or chase through woods obscure the trembling hind:
Now lost, now seen, they intercept his way,
And from the herd still turn the flying prey:
So fast, and with such fears, the Trojan flew;
So close, so constant, the bold Greeks pursue.
Now almost on the fleet the dastard fails,
And mingles with the guards that watch the walls;
When brave Tydides stopp'd, a generous thought
(Inspired by Pallas) in his bosom wrought,
Lest on the foe some forward Greek advance,
And snatch the glory from his lifted lance,
Then thus aloud: Whoe'er thou art, remain;
This javelin else shall fix thee to the plain.
He said, and high in air the weapon cast,
Which wilful err'd, and o'er his shoulder pass'd;
Then fix'd in earth. Against the trembling wood
The wretch stood propp'd, and quiver'd as he stood:
A sudden palsy seized his turning head;
His loose teeth chatter'd, and his colour filed.
The panting warriors seize him as he stands,
And with unmanly tears his life demands.
To this Tydides, with a gloomy frown:
Think not to live, though all the truth be shewn :
Shall we dismiss thee, in some future strife
To risk more bravely thy now forfeit life?
Or that again our camps thou may'st explore?
No-once a traitor, thou betray'st no more.
Sternly he spoke; and as the wretch prepared
With humble blandishment to stroke his beard,
Like lightning swift the wrathful falchion flew,
Divides the neck, and cuts the nerves in two;
One instant snatch'd his trembling soul to hell,
The bead, yet speaking, mutter'd as it fell.
The furry helmet from his brow they tear,
The wolf's grey hide, the unbended bow and spear;
These great Ulysses lifting to the skies,
To favouring Pallas dedicates the prize.
O spare my youth, and for the breath I owe, Large gifts of price my father shall bestow. Vast heaps of brass shall in your ships be told, And steel well-temper'd, and refulgent gold.
Thro' the still night they cross the devious fields 540
Slippery with blood, o'er arms and heaps of shields,
450 Arriving where the Thracian squadrons lay,
And eased in sleep the labours of the day.
550 Say whence these coursers? by what chance bestow'd?
Ranged in three lines they view the prostrate band:
The horses yoked beside each warrior stand;
Their arms in order on the ground reclined,
Through the brown shade the fulgid weapons shined;
Amidst lay Rhesus, stretch'd in sleep profound,
And the white steeds behind his chariot bound.
The welcome sight Ulysses first descries,
And points to Diomed the tempting prize,
The man, the coursers, and the car behold!
Described by Dolon, with the arms of gold.
Now, brave Tydides! now thy courage try,
Approach the chariot, and the steeds untie
Or if thy soul aspire to fiercer deeds,
Urge thou the slaughter, while I seize the steeds.
Pallas (this said) her hero's bosom warms,
Breathed in his heart, and strung his nervous arms;
Where'er he pass'd, a purple stream pursued:
His thirsty falchion, fat with hostile blood,
Bathed all his footsteps, dyed the fields with gore,
And a low groan remurmur'd through the shore.
So the grim lion, from his nightly den,
Q'erleaps the fences, and invades the pen;
On sheep or goats, resistless in his way,
He falls, and foaming rends the guardless prey.
Nor stopp'd the fury of his vengeful hand
Till twelve lay breathless of the Thracian band.
Ulysses following, as his partner slew,
Back by the foot each slaughter'd warrior drew;
The milk-white coursers studious to convey
Safe to the ships, he wisely clear'd the way;
Lest the fierce steeds, not yet to battles bred,
Should start, and tremble at the heaps of dead.
Now twelve dispatch'd, the monarch last they found;
Tydides' falchion fix'd him to the ground.
Just then a deadful dream Minerva sent;
The spoil of foes, or present of a god?
Not those fair steeds so radiant and so gay, That draw the burning chariot of the day. Old as I am, to age I scorn to yield,
555 And daily mingle in the martial field;
A warlike form appear'd before his tent, Whose visionary steel his bosom tore:
But sure till now no coursers struck my sight
Like these, conspicuous through the ranks of fight.
Some god, I deem, conferr'd the glorious prize,
Blest as ye are, and favourites of the skies;
The care of him who bids the thunder roar,
And her*, whose fury bathes the world with gore.
Father! not so (sage Ithacus rejoin'd):
The gifts of heaven are of a nobler kind.
Of Thracian lineage are the steeds ye view,
565 Whose hostile king the brave Tydides slew;
Sleeping he died, with all his guards around,
And twelve beside lay gasping on the ground.
These other spoils from conquer'd Dolon came,
A wretch, whose swiftness was his only fame,
570 By Hector sent our forces to explore:
He now lies headless on the sandy shore.
Then o'er the trench the bounding coursers flew;
The joyful Greeks with loud acclaim pursue.
Straight to Tydides' high pavilion borne,
The matchless steeds his ample stalls adorn:
The neighing coursers their new fellows greet.
And the full racks are heap'd with generous wheat.
But Dolon's armour, to his ships convey'd.
High on the painted stern Ulysses laid,
580 A trophy destined to the blue-eyed maid.
So dream'd the monarch, and awaked no more.
Ulysses now the snowy steeds detains,
And leads them, fasten'd by the silver reins;
These, with his bow unbent, he lash'd along;
(The scourge forgot, on Rhesus' chariot hung.)
Then gave his friend the signal to retire ;
But him, new dangers, new achievements fire:
Doubtful he stood, or with his reeking blade
To send more heroes to the infernal shade,
Drag off the car where Rhesus' armour lay,
Or heave with manly force, and lift away.
While unresolved the son of Tydeus stands,
Pallas appears, and thus the chief commands:
Enough, my son; from farther slaughter cease,
Regard thy safety, and depart in peace;
Haste to the ships, the gotten spoil enjoy
Nor tempt too far the hostile gods of Troy.
Now from nocturnal sweat, and sanguine stain, They cleanse their bodies in the neighbouring main: Then in the polish'd bath, refresh'd from toil, Their joints they supple with dissolving oil,
In due repast indulge the genial hour,
And first to Pallas the libations pour:
They sit rejoicing in her aid divine,
And vengeful anger fill'd his sacred breast.
Swift to the Trojan camp descends the power,
And wakes Hippocoön in the morning hour,
(On Rhesus' side accustom'd to attend,
A faithful kinsman, and instructive friend.)
He rose and saw the field deform'd with blood,
An empty space where late the coursers stood,
The yet-warm Thracians panting on the coast;
For each he wept, but for his Rhesus most:
Now while on Rhesus' name he calls in vain,
The gathering tumult spreads o'er all the plain';
On heaps the Trojans rush, with wild affright,
And wondering view the slaughters of the night.
Meanwhile the chiefs arriving at the shade
Where late the spoils of Hector's spy were laid,
Ulysses stopp'd; to him Tydides bore
The trophy, dropping yet with Dolon's gore:
Then mounts again; again their nimble feet
The coursers ply, and thunder towards the fleet.
Old Nestor first perceived the approaching sound, Bespeaking thus the Grecian peers around: Methinks the noise of trampling steeds I hear, Thickening this way, and gathering on my ear; Perhaps some horses of the Trojan breed (So may, ye gods! my pious hopes succeed) The great Tydides and Ulysses bear, Return'd triumphant with this prize of war. Yet much I fear (ah, may that fear be vain!) The chiefs out-number'd by the Trojan train; Perhaps, e'en now pursued, they seek the shore⚫ Or, oh! perhaps these heroes are no more.
The third Battle, and the Acts of Agamemnon. Agamemnon having armed himself, leads the Grecians to battle: Hector prepares the Trojans to receive them; while Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, give the signals of war. Agamemnon bears all before him; and Hector is commanded by Jupiter (who sends Iris for that purpose) to decline the engagement, till the king shall be wounded and retire from the field. He then makes a great slaughter of the enemy; Ulysses and Diomed put a stop to him for a time: but the latter being wounded by Paris, i obliged to desert his companion, who is encompass ed by the Trojans, wounded, and in the utmost danger, till Menelaus and Ajax rescue him. Hector comes against Ajax; but that hero alone opposes multitudes, and rallies the Greeks. In the mean time Machaon, in the other wing of the army, is pierced by an arrow from Paris, and carried from the fight in Nestor's chariot. Achilles (who overlooked the action from his ship) sends Patroclus to inquire which of the Greeks was wounded in that manner? Nestor entertains him in his tent with an account of the accidents of the day, and a long re cital of some former wars which he remembered, tending to put Patroclus upon persuading Achilles to fight for his countrymen, or at least permit him to do it, clad in Achilles' armour. Patroclus, in his return, meets Eurypylus also wounded, and assists him in that distress.
This book opens with the eight-and-twentieth day of the poem; and the same day, with its various actions and adventures, is extended through the
twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, | As the red star now shews his sanguine fires seventeenth and part of the eighteenth books. The scene lies in the field, near the monument of Ilus.
She took, and thunder'd through the seas and land
E'en Ajax and Achilles heard the sound,
Whose ships remote, the guarded navy bound.
Thence the black fury through the Grecian throng
With horror sounds the loud Orthian song:
The navy shakes, and at the dire alarms
Each bosom boils, each warrior starts to arms.
No more they sigh inglorious to return,
But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn.
The king of men his hardy host inspires
With loud command, with great example fires;
Himself first rose, himself before the rest
His mighty limbs in radiant armour dress'd.
And first he cased his manly legs around
In shining greaves, with silver buckles bound:
The beaming cuirass next adorn'd his breast,
The same which once king Cinyras possess'd:
(The fame of Greece and her assembled host
Had reach'd that monarch on the Cyprian coast;
"Twas then, the friendship of the chief to gain,
This glorious gift he sent, nor sent in vain.)
Ten rows of azure steel the work infold,
Twice ten of tin, and twelve of ductile gold;
Three glittering dragons to the gorget rise,
Whose imitated scales against the skies
Reflected various light, and arching bow'd,
Like colour'd rainbows o'er a showery cloud,
(Jove's wondrous bow, of three celestial dyes,
Placed as a sign to man amid the skies.)
A radiant baldric o'er his shoulder tied,
Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side:
Gold was the hilt, a silver sheath encased
The shining blade, and golden hangers graced
His buckler's mighty orb was next display'd,
That round the warrior cast a dreadful shade.
Ten zones of brass its ample brim surround,
And twice ten bosses the bright convex crown'd;
Tremendous Gorgon frown'd upon its field,
And circling terrors fill'd the expressive shield:
Within its concave hung a silver thong,
On which a mimic serpent creeps along,
His azure length in easy waves extends,
Through the dark clouds, and now in night retires;
Thus through the ranks appear'd the godlike man,
Plunged in the rear, or blazing in the van
While streamy sparkles, restless as he flies,
Flash from his arms as lightning from the skies.
As sweating reapers in some wealthy field,
Ranged in two bands, their crooked weapons wield, 90
Bear down the furrows, till their labours meet;
Thick fall the heapy harvests at their feet:
So Greece and Troy the field of war divide,
And falling ranks are strew'd on every side.
None stoop'd a thought to base inglorious flight;
But horse to horse, and man to man they fight.
Not rabid wolves more fierce contest their prey:
Each wounds, each bleeds, but none resign the day.
Discord with joy the scene of death descries,
And drinks large slaughter at her sanguine eyes:
Discord alone, of all the immortal train,
Swells the red horrors of this direful plain :
The gods in peace their golden mansions fill,
Ranged in bright order on the Olympian hill:
But general murmurs told their griefs above,
And each accused the partial will of Jove.
Meanwhile apart, superior, and alone,
The eternal monarch, on his awful throne,
Wrapt in the blaze of boundless glory sat;
And, fix'd, fulfill'd the just decrees of fate.
On earth he turn'd his all-considering eyes,
And mark'd the spot where Ilion's towers arise:
The sea with ships, the fields with armies spread,
The victor's rage, the dying and the dead.
Thus while the morning-beams increasing bright 115 O'er heaven's pure azure spread the growing light Commutual death the fate of war confounds, Each adverse battle gored with equal wounds. But now (what time in some sequester'd vale The weary woodman spreads his sparing meal, When his tired arms refuse the axe to rear, And claim a respite from the sylvan war; But not till half the prostrate forests lay Stretch'd in long ruin, and exposed to day) Then, nor till then, the Greeks' impulsive might Pierced the black phalanx, and let in the light. Great Agamemnon then the slaughter led, And slew Bienor at his people's head:
Whose squire Oileus, with a sudden spring, Leap'd from the chariot to revenge his king, But in his front he felt the fatal wound,
Which pierced his brain, and stretch'd him on the ground Atrides spoil'd, and left them on the plain:
Vain was their youth, their glittering armour vain:
Now soil'd with dust, and naked to the sky,
Their snowy limbs and beauteous bodies lie.
Two sons of Priam next to battle move,
The product, one of marriage, one of love;
In the same car the brother-warriors ride,
This took the charge to combat, that to guide:
Far other task, than when they wont to keep,
On Ida's tops, their father's fleecy sheep!
These on the mountains once Achilles found,
And captive led, with pliant osiers bound;
Then to their sire for ample sums restored;
But now to perish by Atrides' sword:
Pierced in the breast, the base-born Isus bleeds;
And stripp'd, their features to his mind recalls
The Trojans see the youths untimely die,
But helpless tremble for themselves, and fly
So when a lion, ranging o'er the lawns,
Finds, on some grassy lair, the couching fawns,
Their bones he cracks, their reeking vitals draws,
And grinds the quivering flesh with bloody jaws;
The frighted hind beholds, and dares not stay,
But swift through rustling thickets bursts her way;
All drown'd in sweat the panting mother flies,
And the big tears roll trickling from her eyes.
Amidst the tumult of the routed train,
The sons of false Antimachus were slain;
He, who for bribes his faithful counsels sold,
And voted Helen's stay for Paris' gold.
Atrides mark'd, as these their safety sought,
And slew the children for the father's fault
Their headstrong horse unable to restrain,
They shook with fear, and dropp'd the silken rein:
Then in their chariot on their knees they fall,
And thus with lifted hands for mercy call:
Large heaps of brass in ransom shall be told,
And steel well temper'd, and persuasive gold.
These words, attended with a flood of tears,
The youths address'd to unrelenting ears:
The vengeful monarch gave this stern reply:
If from Antimachus ye spring, ye die :
The daring wretch who once in council stood
To shed Ulysses' and my brother's blood,
For proffer'd peace! and sues his seed for grace?
No die and pay the forfeit of your race.
This said, Pisander from the car he cast,
And pierced his breast: supine he breathed his last.
His brother leap'd to earth; but as he lay,
The trenchant falchion lopp'd his hands away:
His sever'd head was toss'd among the throng,
And, rolling, drew a bloody trail along.
Then, where the thickest fought, the victor flew
The king's example all his Greeks pursue.
Now by the foot the flying foot were slain,
Horse trod by horse lay foaming on the plain.
From the dry fields thick clouds of dust arise,
Shade the black host, and intercept the skies.
175 Till to the main the burning sun descend,
And sacred night her awful shade extend.
She said, and vanish'd: Hector with a bound,
Springs from his chariot on the trembling ground, 270
In clanging arms: he grasps in either hand
180 A pointed lance, and speeds from band to band;
Revives their ardour, turns their steps from fight,
And wakes anew the dying flames of fight.
They stand to arms: the Greeks their onset dare, 275
Condense their powers, and wait the coming war.
New force, new spirit, to each breast returns:
The fight renew'd, with fiercer fury burns:
The king leads on; all fix on him their eye
And learn from him to conquer, or to die.
Ye sacred Nine, celestial Muses! tell,
The brass-hoof'd steeds tumultuous plunge and bound,
And the thick thunder beats the labouring ground
Still slaughtering on, the king of men proceeds;
The distanced army wonders at his deeds.
190 Who faced him first, and by his prowess fell
The great Iphidamas, the bold and young,
From sage Antenor and Theano sprung;
Whom from his youth his grandsire Cisseus bred,
And nursed in Thrace, where snowy flocks are fed.
Scarce did the down his rosy cheeks invest,
And early honour warin his generous breast,
When the kind sire consign'd his daughter's charms
(Theano's sister) to his youthful arms.
As when the winds with raging flames conspire,
But call'd by glory to the wars of Troy,
He leaves untasted the first fruits of joy:
From his loved bride departs with melting eyes,
And swift to aid his dearer country flies.
And o'er the forests roll the flood of fire,
In blazing heaps the grove's old honours fall,
And one refulgent ruin levels all:
Before Atrides' rage so sinks the foe,
With twelve black ships he reach'd Percopé's strand,
Thence took the long laborious march by land.
Now fierce for fame before the ranks he springs,
Towering in arms, and braves the king of kings.
Atrides first discharged the missive spear;
The Trojan stoop'd, the javelin pass'd in air.
Then near the corselet, at the monarch's heart,
With all his strength the youth directs his dait
But the broad belt, with plates of silver bound,
The point rebated, and repell'd the wound.
Encumber'd with the dart, Atrides stands,
Till grasp'd with force, he wrench'd it from his hands,
At once his weighty sword discharged a wound
Full on his neck, that fell'd him to the ground.
Stretch'd in the dust the unhappy warrior lies,
And sleep eternal seals his swimming eyes.
Oh worthy better fate! oh early slain !
220 Thy country's friend; and virtuous, though in vain !
No more the youth shall join his consort's side,
At once a virgin, and at once a bride!
No more with presents her embraces meet,
Or lay the spoils of conquest at her feet,
225 On whom his passion, lavish of his store.
Whole squadrons vanish, and proud heads lie low:
The steeds fly trembling from his waving sword:
And many a car, now lighted of its lord,
Wide o'er the field with guideless fury rolls,
Breaking their ranks, and crushing out their souls;
While bis keen falchion drinks the warrior's lives:
More grateful, now, to vultures than their wives!
Perhaps great Hector then had found his fate,
But Jove and Destiny prolong'd his date.
Safe from the darts, the care of heaven he stood,
Amidst alarms, and death, and dust, and blood.
Now past the tomb where ancient Ilus lay,
Through the mid field the routed urge their way.
Where the wild figs the adjoining summit crown,
That path they take, and speed to reach the town.
As swift Atrides with loud shouts pursued,
Hot with his toil, and bathed in hostile blood.
Now near the beech-tree, and the Scæan gates,
The hero halts, and his associates waits.
Meanwhile, on every side, around the plain,
Dispersed, disorder'd, fly the Trojan train.
So flies a herd of beeves, that hear, dismay'd
The lion's roaring through the midnight shade.
On heaps they tumble with successless haste:
The savage seizes, draws, and rends the last.
Not with less fury stern Atrides flew,
Still press'd the rout, and still the hindmost slew;
Hurl'd from their cars the bravest chiefs are kill'd,
And rage, and death, and carnage, load the field.
Now storms the victor at the Trojan wall;
Surveys the towers, and meditates their fall.
But Jove descending shook the Idæan hills,
And down their summits pour'd a hundred rills
The unkindled lightnings in his hand he took,
And thus the many-colour'd maid bespoke :*
Iris, with haste thy golden wings display,
To godlike Hector this our word convey.
While Agamemnon wastes the ranks around,
Fights in the front, and bathes with blood the ground,
Bid him give way; but issue forth commands,
Bestow'd so much, and vainly promised more!
Unwept, uncover'd, on the plain he lay,
While the proud victor bore his arms away.
Coon, Antenor's eldest hope, was nigh:
230 Tears, at the sight, came starting from his eye,
While pierced with grief the much loved youth he view'd,
And the pale teatures now deform'd with blood.
Then with his spear, unseen, his time he took,
Aim'd at the king, and near his elbow struck.
235 The thrilling steel transpierced the brawny part,
And through his arm stood forth the barbed dart.
Surprised the monarch feels, yet void of fear
On Coön rushes with his lifted spear:
His brother's corpse the pious Trojan draws,
240 And calls his country to assert his cause,
And trust the war to less important hands:
But when, or wounded by the spear or dart,
That chief shall mount his chariot, and depart,
Then Jove shall string his arm, and fire his breast,
Then to her ships shall flying Greece be press'd,
Till to the main the burning sun descend,
And sacred night her awful shade extend.
He spoke, and Iris at his word obey'd;
On wings of winds descends the various maid.
The chief she found amidst the ranks of war;
Close to the bulwarks, on his glittering car.
The goddess then: O son of Priam, hear!
From Jove I come, and his high mandate bear
While Agamemnon wastes the ranks around,
Fights in the front, and bathes with blood the ground.
Abstain from fight, yet issue forth commands,
The vengeful victor rages round the fields,
With every weapon art or fury yields:
By the long lance, the sword, or pondrous stone,
Whole ranks are broken, and whole troops o'erthrown.
This, while yet warm, distill'd the purple flood;
But when the wound grew stiff with clotted blood,
255 Then grinding tortures his strong bosom rend,
Less keen those darts the fierce Ilythiæ send,
(The powers that cause the teeming matron's throes,
Sad mothers of unutterable woes!)
Stung with the smart, all-panting with the pain,
He mounts the car, and gives his squire the rein:
Then with a voice which fury made more strong,
And pain augmented, thus exhorts the throng:
O friends! O Greeks! assert your honours won,
Proceed, and finish what this arm begun :
Then Jove shall string thy arm, and fire thy breast; 265 Lo! angry Jove forbids your chief to stav
Then to her ships shall flying Greece be press'd,
And envies half the glories of the day.
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