The time is come, when yon defpairing hoft
Shall learn the value of the man they lost :
Now at my knees the Greeks fhall pour their moan,
And proud Atrides tremble on his throne.
Go now to Neftor, and from him be taught
What wounded warriour late his chariot brought;
For, seen at distance, and but seen behind,
His form recall'd Machaon to my mind;
Nor could I, through yon cloud, difcern his face,
The courfers pass'd me with so swift a pace.
The hero faid. His friend obey'd with haste, Through intermingled ships and tents he pass'd; 755 The chiefs descending from their car he found; The panting steeds Eurymedon unbound. 'The warriours standing on the breezy shore, To dry their sweat, and wash away the gore, Here paus'd a moment, while the gentle gale Convey'd that freshness the cool feas exhale; Then to confult on farther methods went, And took their feats beneath the fhady tent. The draught prescrib'd, fair Hecamede prepares, Arfinous' daughter, grac'd with golden hairs: (Whom to his aged arms, a royal slave,
Greece, as the prize of Neftor's wisdom, gave)
A table firft with azure feet the plac'd;
Whose ample orb a brazen charger grac'd:
Honey new prefs'd, the facred flower of wheat,
And wholefome garlick, crown'd the favory treat.
Next her white hand a spacious goblet brings,
A goblet facred to the Pylian kings
From eldest times: the maffy sculptur'd vafe,
Glittering with golden studs, four handles grace; 773
And curling vines around each handle roll'd
Support two turtle-doves embofs'd in gold.
A maffy weight, yet heav'd with ease by him,
When the brisk nectar overlook'd the brim.
Temper'd in this, the nymph of form divine
Pours a large portion of the Pramnian wine;
With goat's-milk cheese a flavorous taste bestows,
And last with flour the fmiling furface ftrows.
This for the wounded prince the dame prepares;
The cordial beverage reverend Neftor fhares :
Salubrious draughts the warriours' thirst allay,
And pleafing conference beguiles the day.
Meantime Patroclus, by Achilles fent,
Unheard approach'd, and stood before the tent.
Old Neftor rifing then, the hero led
To his high feat; the chief refus'd, and faid:
'Tis now no feafon for thefe kind delays;
The great Achilles with impatience stays.
To great Achilles this respect I owe;
Who asks what hero, wounded by the foe,
Was borne from combat by thy foaming steeds.
With grief I fee the great Machaon bleeds :
This to report, my hafty course I bend;
Thou know'ft the fiery temper of my friend.
Can then the fons of Greece (the fage rejoin'd) 800 Excite compaffion in Achilles' mind?
Seeks he the forrows of our hoft to know?
This is not half the story of our woe.
Tell him, not great Machaon bleeds alone.
Our bravest heroes in the navy groan,
Ulyffes, Agamemnon, Diomed,
And ftern Eurypylus, already bleed.
But ah! what flattering hopes I entertain!
Achilles heeds not, but derides our pain:
Ev'n till the flames confume our fleet he stays,
And waits the rifing of the fatal blaze.
Chief after chief the raging foe destroys;
Calm he looks on, and every death enjoys.
Now the flow course of all-impairing time
Unftrings my nerves, and ends my manly prime; 815
Oh! had I ftill that ftrength my youth poffefs'd,
When this bold arm th' Epeian powers opprefs'd,
The bulls of Elis in glad triumph led,
And stretch'd the great Itymonæus dead!
Then, from my fury fled the trembling swains,
And ours was all the plunder of the plains:
Fifty white flocks, full fifty herds of swine,
As many goats, as many lowing kine:
And thrice the number of unrival'd steeds,
All teeming females, and of generous breeds.
Thefe, as my firft effay of arms, I won ;
Old Neleus glory'd in his conquering fon.
Thus Elis forc'd, her long arrears restor'd,
And shares were parted to each Pylian lord.
The state of Pyle was funk to last despair,
When the proud Elians first commenc'd the war;
For Neleus' fons Alcides' rage had flain;
Of twelve bold brothers, I alone remain!
Opprefs'd, we arm'd; and now this conqueft gain'd,
My fire three hundred chosen sheep obtain'd.
(That large reprisal he might justly claim,
For prize defrauded, and insulted fame,
When Elis' monarch at the public course
Detain'd his chariot and victorious horse.)
The reft the people shar'd; myself survey'd
The juft partition, and due victims pay'd.
Three days were past, when Elis rose to war,
With many a courfer, and with many a car;
The fons of Actor at their army's head
(Young as they were) the vengeful fquadrons led. 845 High on a rock fair Thryoëssa stands,
Our utmost frontier on the Pylian lands;
Not far the streams of fam'd Alphæus flow;
The stream they pass'd, and pitch'd their tents below.
Pallas, defcending in the shades of night,
Alarms the Pylians, and commands the fight.
Each burns for fame, and fwells with martial pride; Myfelf the foremoft; but my fire deny'd ;
Fear'd for my youth, expos'd to stern alarms;
And stopp'd my chariot, and detain'd my arms.
My fire deny'd in vain: on foot I fled
Amidft our chariots: for the Goddess led..
Along fair Arene's delightful plain,
Soft Minyas rolls his waters to the main.
There, horfe and foot, the Pylian troops unite,
And, fheath'd in arms, expect the dawning light.
Thence, ere the fun advanc'd his noon-day flame,
To great Alphæus' facred fource we came.
There first to Jove our folemn rites were paid;
An untam'd heifer pleas'd the blue-ey'd Maid;
A bull Alphæus; and a bull was flain
To the blue monarch of the watery main.
In arms we slept, befide the winding flood,
While round the town the fierce Epeians ftood.
Soon as the fun, with all-revealing ray,
Flam'd in the front of heaven, and gave the day;
Bright scenes of arms, and works of war, appear;
The nations meet; there Pylos, Elis here.
The first who fell, beneath my javelin bled;
King Augias' fon, and spouse of Agamede:
(She that all fimples' healing virtues knew,
And every herb that drinks the morning dew.)
I feiz'd his car, the van of battle led;
Th' Epeians faw, they trembled, and they fled.
The foe difpers'd, their braveft warriour kill'd,
Fierce as a whirlwind now I fwept the field:
Full fifty captive chariots grac'd my train;
Two chiefs from each fell breathlefs to the plain.
Then Actor's fon had dy'd, but Neptune shrouds
The youthful heroes in a veil of clouds.
O'er heapy fhields, and o'er the proftrate throng,
Collecting spoils, and flaughtering all along,
Through wide Buprafian fields we forc'd the foes,
Where o'er the vales th' Olenian rocks arofe;
Till Pallas ftopp'd us where Alifum flows.
Ev'n there the hindmoft of their rear I flay,
And the fame arm that led, concludes the day,
Then back to Pyle triumphant take my way.
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