Wide o'er the field, refiftlefs as the wind,
For Troy they fly, and leave their lord behind.
Prone on his face he finks befide the wheel :
Atrides o'er him shakes his vengeful steel;
The fallen chief in fuppliant posture press'd
The victor's knees, and thus his prayer address'd:
Oh, fpare my youth! and for the life I owe
Large gifts of price my father shall bestow.
When fame fhall tell, that, not in battle flain,
Thy hollow ships his captive fon detain ;
Rich heaps of brass shall in thy tent be told,
And feel well temper'd, and persuasive gold.
He faid: compaffion touch'd the hero's heart; He stood, fufpended, with the lifted dart: As pity pleaded for his vanquish'd prize, Stern Agamemnon swift to vengeance flies, And furious thus: Oh impotent of mind! Shall thefe, shall these Atrides' mercy find? Well haft thou known proud Troy's perfidious land, And well her natives merit at thy hand! Not one of all the race, nor fex, nor age, Shall fave a Trojan from our boundless rage: Ilion fhall perish whole, and bury all;
Her babes, her infants at the breast, shall fall.
A dreadful leffon of exampled fate,
To warn the nations, and to curb the great!
The monarch spoke; the words with warmth addreft,
To rigid juftice fteel'd his brother's breast.
Fierce from his knees the hapless chief he thrust;
The monarch's javelin stretch'd him in the duft,
VOL. I.
Then preffing with his foot his panting heart,
Forth from the flain he tugg'd the reeking dart.
Old Neftor faw, and rouz'd the warriours' rage;
Thus, heroes! thus the vigorous combat wage!
No fon of Mars descend, for servile gains,
To touch the booty, while a foe remains.
Behold yon glittering host, your future spoil!
First gain the conquest, then reward the toil.
And now had Greece eternal fame acquir'd,
And frighten'd Troy within her walls retir'd;
Had not fage Helenus her state redrest,
Taught by the Gods that mov'd his facred breast.
Where Hector stood, with great Æneas join'd,
The feer reveal'd the counfels of his mind :
Ye generous chiefs! on whom th' immortals lay 95
The cares and glories of this doubtful day;
On whom your aids, your country's hopes depend;
Wife to confult, and active to defend !
Here, at our gates, your brave efforts unite,
Turn back the routed, and forbid the flight;
Ere yet their wives' foft.arms the cowards gain,
The sport and insult of the hostile train.
When your commands have hearten'd every
Ourfelves, here fix'd, will make the dangerous stand;
Preft as we are, and fore of former fight,
These straits demand our last remains of might.
Meanwhile, thou Hector to the town retire,
And teach our mother what the Gods require:
Direct the queen to lead th' affembled train
Of Troy's chief matrons to Minerva's fane ;
Unbar the facred gates, and seek the
With offer'd vows, in Ilion's topmoft tower.
The largest mantle her rich wardrobes hold,
Moft priz'd for art, and labour'd o'er with gold,
Before the Goddess' honour'd knees be spread;
And twelve young heifers to her altars led:
If fo the power, aton'd by fervent prayer,
Our wives, our infants, and our city spare,
And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire,
That mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire.
Not thus Achilles taught our hofts to dread,
Sprung though he was from more than mortal bed;
Not thus refiftlefs rul'd the ftream of fight,
In rage unbounded, and unmatch'd in might.
Hector obedient heard; and, with a bound,
Leap'd from his trembling chariot to the ground;
Through all his hoft, infpiring force, he flies,
And bids the thunder of the battle rife.
With rage recruited the bold Trojans glow,
And turn the tide of conflict on the foe :
Fierce in the front he shakes two dazling spears :
All Greece recedes, and 'midst her triumphs fears;
Some God, they thought, who rul'd the fate of wars,
Shot down avenging, from the vault of stars.
Then thus, aloud: Ye dauntless Dardans, hear!
And you whom diftant nations send to war!
Be mindful of the strength your fathers bore;
Be ftill yourselves, and Hector asks no more.
One hour demands me in the Trojan wall,
To bid our altars flame, and victims fall :
Nor fhall, I truft, the matrons holy train
And reverend elders, feek the Gods in vain.
This faid, with ample ftrides the hero past;
The fhield's large orb behind his fhoulder cast,
His neck o'erfhading, to his ancle hung;
And as he march'd, the brazen buckler rung.
Now paus'd the battle (godlike Hector gone)
When daring Glaucus and great Tydeus' fon
Between both armies met: the chiefs from far
Obferv'd each other, and had mark'd for war.
Near as they drew, Tydides thus began:
What art thou, boldest of the race of man?
Our eyes, till now, that aspect ne'er beheld,
Where fame is reap'd amid th' embattled field;
Yet far before the troops thou dar'st appear,
And meet a lance the fierceft heroes fear.
Unhappy they, and born of luckless fires,
Who tempt our fury when Minerva fires!
But if from heaven, celeftial, thou defcend;
Know, with Immortals we no more contend.
Not long Lycurgus view'd the golden light,
That daring man who mix'd with Gods in fight.
Bacchus, and Bacchus' votaries, he drove,
With brandish'd steel from Nyffa's facred grove:
Their confecrated fpears lay fcatter'd round,
With curling vines and twisted ivy bound;
While Bacchus headlong fought the briny flood,
And Thetis' arm receiv'd the trembling God
Nor fail'd the crime th' immortals' wrath to move,
(Th' immortals bleft with endless ease above)
Depriv'd of fight by their avenging doom, Chearless he breath'd, and wander'd in the gloom : Then funk unpity'd to the dire abodes,
A wretch accurft, and hated by the Gods!
I brave not heaven: but if the fruits of earth
Suftain thy life, and human be thy birth;
Bold as thou art, too prodigal of breath,
Approach, and enter the dark gates of death.
What, or from whence I am, or who my fire,
(Reply'd the chief) can Tydeus' fon enquire?
Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,
Now green in youth, now withering on the ground;
Another race the following fpring supplies;
They fall fucceffive, and fucceffive rise :
So generations in their course decay ;
So flourish thefe, when thofe are paft away.
But if thou ftill perfift to search my birth,
Then hear a tale that fills the spacious earth.
A city stands on Argos' utmost bound,
(Argos the fair for warlike steeds renown'd)
Æolian Sifyphus, with wisdom blest,
In ancient time the happy walls poffeft,
Then call'd Ephyre: Glaucus was his fon;
Great Glaucus, father of Bellerophon,
Who o'er the fons of men in beauty shin'd,
Lov'd for that valour which preferves mankind.
Then mighty Prætus Argos' fceptres fway'd,
Whose hard command Bellerophon obey'd.
With direful jealoufy the monarch rag'd,
And the brave prince in numerous toils engag'd. 200
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