« ZurückWeiter »
His deep design unknown, the hosts approve Atrides' speech. The mighty numbers move. So roll the billows to th’ Icarian shore,
175 From East and South when winds begin to roar, Burst their dark mansions in the clouds, and sweep The whitening surface of the ruffled deep. And as on corn when western gusts descend, Before the blast the lofty harvest bends :
180 Thus o'er the field the moving host appears, With nodding plumes, and groves of waving spears. The gathering murmur spreads, their trampling feet Beat the loole sands, and thicken to the fleet. With long-resounding cries they urge the train 185 To fit the ships, and launch into the main. They toil, they sweat, thicke clouds of dust arise, The doubling clamours echo to the skies. Ev'n then the Greeks had left the hostile plain, And fate decreed the fall of Troy in vain ; 190 But Jove's imperial queen their flight survey'd, And sighing thus bespoke the blue-ey'd Maid :
Shall then the Grecians fly! O dire disgrace ! And leave unpunish'd this perfidious race ? Shall Troy, shall Priam, and th' adulterous spouse, 195 In peace enjoy the fruits of broken vows ? And bravest chiefs, in Helen's quarrel lain, Lie unreveng'd on yon detested plain ? No: let my Greeks, unmoy'd by vain alarms, Once more refulgent shine in brazen arms. Hatte, Goddess, hafte! the flying host detain, Nor let one fail. be hoisted on the main.
Pallas obeys, and from Olympus' height Swift to the ships precipitates her flight; Ulysses, first in public cares, the found,
The voice divine confess'd the warlike maid,
he flies through all the Grecian train, Each prince of name, or chief in arms approv'd, 225 He fir'd with praise, or with persuasion mov’d.
Warriours like you, with strength and wisdom blest, By brave examples should confirm the rest. The monarch's will not yet reveal'd
appears ; He tries our courage, but resents our fears,
230 Th’unwary Greeks his fury may provoke ; Not thus the king in secret council fpoke.
Jove loves our chief, from Jove his honour springs,
With words like these the troops Ulysses rul’d, 245 The loudest silenc'd, and the fiercest cool'd. Back to th' assembly roll the thronging train, Desert the ships, and pour upon the plain. Murmuring they move, as when old Ocean roars, And heaves huge furges to the trembling shores: 250 The groaning banks are burst with bellowing sound, The rocks remurmur, and the deeps rebound. At length the tumult sinks, the noises cease, And a still filence lulls the camp to peace, Thersites only clamour'd in the throng.
255 Loquacious, loud, and turbulent of tongue: Aw'd by no shame, by no respects control'd, In scandal busy, in reproaches bold : With witty malice studious to defame : Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim ; 260 But chief he glory'd, with licentious stile, To lalh the great, and monarchs to revile.
His figure such as might his soul proclaim;
275 What moves the great Atrides to complain ? 'Tis thine whate'er the warriour's breast inflames, The golden spoil, and thine the lovely dames. With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow, Thy tents are crowded, and thy chests o'erflow, 280 Thus at full ease in heaps of riches rollid, What grieves the monarch ? Is it thirst of gold ? Say, Mall we march with our unconquer'd powers, (The Greeks, and I) to Ilion's hostile towers, And bring the race of royal bastards here, 285 For Troy to ransom at a price too dear? But safer plunder thy own host supplies; Say, would'st thou seize some valiant leader's prize ? Or, if thy heart to generous love be led, Some captive fair, to bless thy kingly bed? 290 Whate'er our master craves, submit we must, Plagued with his pride, or punish'd for his luft.
Oh women of Achaia ! men no more !
be wanted on some busy day,
Peace, factious monster, born to vex the state, With wrangling talents form’d for foul debate : Curb that impetuous tongue, nor, rafhly vain And fingly mad, afperse the fovereign reign. Have we not known thee, llave! of all our hoft, 310 The man who acts the least, upbraids the most? Think not the Greeks to shameful Aight to bring, Nor let those lips profane the name of king. For our return we trust the heavenly Powers; Be that their care ; to fight like men be ours. 315 But
grant the host with wealth the general load, Except detraction, what hast thou bestow'd ? Suppose some hero should his spoils resign, Art thou that hero, could those spoils be thine ? Gods ! let me perish on this hateful shore, 320 And let these eyes behold my son no more; If, on thy next offence, this hand forbear To strip those arms thou ill deserv'st to wear,