 The Iliad of Homer 

 THE ILIAD. 

 

BOOK I. 

THE CONTENTION OF ACHILLES AND 
AGAMEMNON.

In the war of Troy, the Greeks having 
sacked some of the neighbouring towns, 
and taken from thence two beautiful 
captives, Chryseis and Briseis, 
allotted the first to Agamemnon, and 
the last to Achilles. Chryses, the 
father of Chryseis, and priest of 
Apollo, comes to the Grecian camp to 
ransom her; with which the action of 
the poem opens, in the tenth year of 
the siege. The priest being refused, 
and insolently dismissed by Agamemnon, 
entreats for vengeance from his god; 
who inflicts a pestilence on the 
Greeks. Achilles calls a council, and 
encourages Chalcas to declare the cause 
of it; who attributes it to the refusal 
of Chryseis. The king, being obliged to 
send back his captive, enters into a 
furious contest with Achilles, which 
Nestor pacifies; however, as he had the 
absolute command of the army, he seizes 
on Briseis in revenge. Achilles in 
discontent withdraws himself and his 
forces from the rest of the Greeks; and 
complaining to Thetis, she supplicates 
Jupiter to render them sensible of the 
wrong done to her son, by giving 
victory to the Trojans. Jupiter, 
granting her suit, incenses Juno: 
between whom the debate runs high, till 
they are reconciled by the address of 
Vulcan.

The time of two-and-twenty days is 
taken up in this book: nine during the 
plague, one in the council and quarrel 
of the princes, and twelve for 
Jupiter's stay with the Ćthiopians, at 
whose return Thetis prefers her 
petition. The scene lies in the Grecian 
camp, then changes to Chrysa, and 
lastly to Olympus.

 Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful 
spring Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly 
goddess, sing! That wrath which hurl'd 
to Pluto's gloomy reign The souls of 
mighty chiefs untimely slain; Whose 
limbs unburied on the naked shore, 
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures 
tore. Since great Achilles and Atrides 
strove, Such was the sovereign doom, 
and such the will of Jove! 

 Declare, O Muse! in what ill-fated 
hour Sprung the fierce strife, from 
what offended power Latona's son a dire 
contagion spread, And heap'd the camp 
with mountains of the dead; The king of 
men his reverent priest defied, And for 
the king's offence the people died.

 For Chryses sought with costly gifts 
to gain His captive daughter from the 
victor's chain. Suppliant the venerable 
father stands; Apollo's awful ensigns 
grace his hands By these he begs; and 
lowly bending down, Extends the sceptre 
and the laurel crown He sued to all, 
but chief implored for grace The 
brother-kings, of Atreus' royal race 

 "Ye kings and warriors! may your vows 
be crown'd, And Troy's proud walls lie 
level with the ground. May Jove restore 
you when your toils are o'er Safe to 
the pleasures of your native shore. 
But, oh! relieve a wretched parent's 
pain, And give Chryseis to these arms 
again; If mercy fail, yet let my 
presents move, And dread avenging 
Phoebus, son of Jove."

 The Greeks in shouts their joint 
assent declare, The priest to 
reverence, and release the fair. Not so 
Atrides; he, with kingly pride, 
Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus 
replied:

 "Hence on thy life, and fly these 
hostile plains, Nor ask, presumptuous, 
what the king detains Hence, with thy 
laurel crown, and golden rod, Nor trust 
too far those ensigns of thy god. Mine 
is thy daughter, priest, and shall 
remain; And prayers, and tears, and 
bribes, shall plead in vain; Till time 
shall rifle every youthful grace, And 
age dismiss her from my cold embrace, 
In daily labours of the loom employ'd, 
Or doom'd to deck the bed she once 
enjoy'd Hence then; to Argos shall the 
maid retire, Far from her native soil 
and weeping sire." 

 HOMER INVOKING THE MUSE. 

 The trembling priest along the shore 
return'd, And in the anguish of a 
father mourn'd. Disconsolate, not 
daring to complain, Silent he wander'd 
by the sounding main; Till, safe at 
distance, to his god he prays, The god 
who darts around the world his rays.

 "O Smintheus! sprung from fair 
Latona's line, Thou guardian power of 
Cilla the divine, Thou source of light! 
whom Tenedos adores, And whose bright 
presence gilds thy Chrysa's shores. If 
e'er with wreaths I hung thy sacred 
fane, Or fed the flames with fat of 
oxen slain; God of the silver bow! thy 
shafts employ, Avenge thy servant, and 
the Greeks destroy."

 Thus Chryses pray'd.--the favouring 
power attends, And from Olympus' lofty 
tops descends. Bent was his bow, the 
Grecian hearts to wound; Fierce as he 
moved, his silver shafts resound. 
Breathing revenge, a sudden night he 
spread, And gloomy darkness roll'd 
about his head. The fleet in view, he 
twang'd his deadly bow, And hissing fly 
the feather'd fates below. On mules and 
dogs the infection first began; And 
last, the vengeful arrows fix'd in man. 
For nine long nights, through all the 
dusky air, The pyres, thick-flaming, 
shot a dismal glare. But ere the tenth 
revolving day was run, Inspired by 
Juno, Thetis' godlike son Convened to 
council all the Grecian train; For much 
the goddess mourn'd her heroes slain. 
The assembly seated, rising o'er the 
rest, Achilles thus the king of men 
address'd:

 "Why leave we not the fatal Trojan 
shore, And measure back the seas we 
cross'd before? The plague destroying 
whom the sword would spare, 'Tis time 
to save the few remains of war. But let 
some prophet, or some sacred sage, 
Explore the cause of great Apollo's 
rage; Or learn the wasteful vengeance 
to remove By mystic dreams, for dreams 
descend from Jove. If broken vows this 
heavy curse have laid, Let altars 
smoke, and hecatombs be paid. So 
Heaven, atoned, shall dying Greece 
restore, And Phoebus dart his burning 
shafts no more."

 He said, and sat: when Chalcas thus 
replied; Chalcas the wise, the Grecian 
priest and guide, That sacred seer, 
whose comprehensive view, The past, the 
present, and the future knew: Uprising 
slow, the venerable sage Thus spoke the 
prudence and the fears of age:

 "Beloved of Jove, Achilles! would'st 
thou know Why angry Phoebus bends his 
fatal bow? First give thy faith, and 
plight a prince's word Of sure 
protection, by thy power and sword: For 
I must speak what wisdom would conceal, 
And truths, invidious to the great, 
reveal, Bold is the task, when 
subjects, grown too wise, Instruct a 
monarch where his error lies; For 
though we deem the short-lived fury 
past, 'Tis sure the mighty will revenge 
at last." To whom Pelides:--"From thy 
inmost soul Speak what thou know'st, 
and speak without control. E'en by that 
god I swear who rules the day, To whom 
thy hands the vows of Greece convey. 
And whose bless'd oracles thy lips 
declare; Long as Achilles breathes this 
vital air, No daring Greek, of all the 
numerous band, Against his priest shall 
lift an impious hand; Not e'en the 
chief by whom our hosts are led, The 
king of kings, shall touch that sacred 
head."

 Encouraged thus, the blameless man 
replies: "Nor vows unpaid, nor slighted 
sacrifice, But he, our chief, provoked 
the raging pest, Apollo's vengeance for 
his injured priest. Nor will the god's 
awaken'd fury cease, But plagues shall 
spread, and funeral fires increase, 
Till the great king, without a ransom 
paid, To her own Chrysa send the 
black-eyed maid. Perhaps, with added 
sacrifice and prayer, The priest may 
pardon, and the god may spare."

 The prophet spoke: when with a gloomy 
frown The monarch started from his 
shining throne; Black choler fill'd his 
breast that boil'd with ire, And from 
his eye-balls flash'd the living fire: 
"Augur accursed! denouncing mischief 
still, Prophet of plagues, for ever 
boding ill! Still must that tongue some 
wounding message bring, And still thy 
priestly pride provoke thy king? For 
this are Phoebus' oracles explored, To 
teach the Greeks to murmur at their 
lord? For this with falsehood is my 
honour stain'd, Is heaven offended, and 
a priest profaned; Because my prize, my 
beauteous maid, I hold, And heavenly 
charms prefer to proffer'd gold? A 
maid, unmatch'd in manners as in face, 
Skill'd in each art, and crown'd with 
every grace; Not half so dear were 
Clytaemnestra's charms, When first her 
blooming beauties bless'd my arms. Yet, 
if the gods demand her, let her sail; 
Our cares are only for the public weal: 
Let me be deem'd the hateful cause of 
all, And suffer, rather than my people 
fall. The prize, the beauteous prize, I 
will resign, So dearly valued, and so 
justly mine. But since for common good 
I yield the fair, My private loss let 
grateful Greece repair; Nor unrewarded 
let your prince complain, That he alone 
has fought and bled in vain." 
"Insatiate king (Achilles thus 
replies), Fond of the power, but fonder 
of the prize! Would'st thou the Greeks 
their lawful prey should yield, The due 
reward of many a well-fought field?

 The spoils of cities razed and 
warriors slain, We share with justice, 
as with toil we gain; But to resume 
whate'er thy avarice craves (That trick 
of tyrants) may be borne by slaves. Yet 
if our chief for plunder only fight, 
The spoils of Ilion shall thy loss 
requite, Whene'er, by Jove's decree, 
our conquering powers Shall humble to 
the dust her lofty towers."

 Then thus the king: "Shall I my prize 
resign With tame content, and thou 
possess'd of thine? Great as thou art, 
and like a god in fight, Think not to 
rob me of a soldier's right. At thy 
demand shall I restore the maid? First 
let the just equivalent be paid; Such 
as a king might ask; and let it be A 
treasure worthy her, and worthy me. Or 
grant me this, or with a monarch's 
claim This hand shall seize some other 
captive dame. The mighty Ajax shall his 
prize resign; Ulysses' spoils, or even 
thy own, be mine. The man who suffers, 
loudly may complain; And rage he may, 
but he shall rage in vain. But this 
when time requires.--It now remains We 
launch a bark to plough the watery 
plains, And waft the sacrifice to 
Chrysa's shores, With chosen pilots, 
and with labouring oars. Soon shall the 
fair the sable ship ascend, And some 
deputed prince the charge attend: This 
Creta's king, or Ajax shall fulfil, Or 
wise Ulysses see perform'd our will; 
Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain, 
Achilles' self conduct her o'er the 
main; Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in 
his rage, The god propitiate, and the 
pest assuage." 

 MARS. 

 At this, Pelides, frowning stern, 
replied: "O tyrant, arm'd with 
insolence and pride! Inglorious slave 
to interest, ever join'd With fraud, 
unworthy of a royal mind! What generous 
Greek, obedient to thy word, Shall form 
an ambush, or shall lift the sword? 
What cause have I to war at thy decree? 
The distant Trojans never injured me; 
To Phthia's realms no hostile troops 
they led: Safe in her vales my warlike 
coursers fed; Far hence removed, the 
hoarse-resounding main, And walls of 
rocks, secure my native reign, Whose 
fruitful soil luxuriant harvests grace, 
Rich in her fruits, and in her martial 
race. Hither we sail'd, a voluntary 
throng, To avenge a private, not a 
public wrong: What else to Troy the 
assembled nations draws, But thine, 
ungrateful, and thy brother's cause? Is 
this the pay our blood and toils 
deserve; Disgraced and injured by the 
man we serve? And darest thou threat to 
snatch my prize away, Due to the deeds 
of many a dreadful day? A prize as 
small, O tyrant! match'd with thine, As 
thy own actions if compared to mine. 
Thine in each conquest is the wealthy 
prey, Though mine the sweat and danger 
of the day. Some trivial present to my 
ships I bear: Or barren praises pay the 
wounds of war. But know, proud monarch, 
I'm thy slave no more; My fleet shall 
waft me to Thessalia's shore: Left by 
Achilles on the Trojan plain, What 
spoils, what conquests, shall Atrides 
gain?"

 To this the king: "Fly, mighty 
warrior! fly; Thy aid we need not, and 
thy threats defy. There want not chiefs 
in such a cause to fight, And Jove 
himself shall guard a monarch's right. 
Of all the kings (the god's 
distinguish'd care) To power superior 
none such hatred bear: Strife and 
debate thy restless soul employ, And 
wars and horrors are thy savage joy, If 
thou hast strength, 'twas Heaven that 
strength bestow'd; For know, vain man! 
thy valour is from God. Haste, launch 
thy vessels, fly with speed away; Rule 
thy own realms with arbitrary sway; I 
heed thee not, but prize at equal rate 
Thy short-lived friendship, and thy 
groundless hate. Go, threat thy 
earth-born Myrmidons:--but here 'Tis 
mine to threaten, prince, and thine to 
fear. Know, if the god the beauteous 
dame demand, My bark shall waft her to 
her native land; But then prepare, 
imperious prince! prepare, Fierce as 
thou art, to yield thy captive fair: 
Even in thy tent I'll seize the 
blooming prize, Thy loved Briseis with 
the radiant eyes. Hence shalt thou 
prove my might, and curse the hour Thou 
stood'st a rival of imperial power; And 
hence, to all our hosts it shall be 
known, That kings are subject to the 
gods alone."

 Achilles heard, with grief and rage 
oppress'd, His heart swell'd high, and 
labour'd in his breast; Distracting 
thoughts by turns his bosom ruled; Now 
fired by wrath, and now by reason 
cool'd: That prompts his hand to draw 
the deadly sword, Force through the 
Greeks, and pierce their haughty lord; 
This whispers soft his vengeance to 
control, And calm the rising tempest of 
his soul. Just as in anguish of 
suspense he stay'd, While half 
unsheathed appear'd the glittering 
blade, Minerva swift descended from 
above, Sent by the sister and the wife 
of Jove (For both the princes claim'd 
her equal care); Behind she stood, and 
by the golden hair Achilles seized; to 
him alone confess'd; A sable cloud 
conceal'd her from the rest. He sees, 
and sudden to the goddess cries, Known 
by the flames that sparkle from her 
eyes:

 

 MINERVA REPRESSING THE FURY OF 
ACHILLES. 

 "Descends Minerva, in her guardian 
care, A heavenly witness of the wrongs 
I bear From Atreus' son?--Then let 
those eyes that view The daring crime, 
behold the vengeance too."

 "Forbear (the progeny of Jove replies) 
To calm thy fury I forsake the skies: 
Let great Achilles, to the gods 
resign'd, To reason yield the empire 
o'er his mind. By awful Juno this 
command is given; The king and you are 
both the care of heaven. The force of 
keen reproaches let him feel; But 
sheathe, obedient, thy revenging steel. 
For I pronounce (and trust a heavenly 
power) Thy injured honour has its fated 
hour, When the proud monarch shall thy 
arms implores And bribe thy friendship 
with a boundless store. Then let 
revenge no longer bear the sway; 
Command thy passions, and the gods 
obey."

 To her Pelides:--"With regardful ear, 
'Tis just, O goddess! I thy dictates 
hear. Hard as it is, my vengeance I 
suppress: Those who revere the gods the 
gods will bless." He said, observant of 
the blue-eyed maid; Then in the sheath 
return'd the shining blade. The goddess 
swift to high Olympus flies, And joins 
the sacred senate of the skies.

 Nor yet the rage his boiling breast 
forsook, Which thus redoubling on 
Atrides broke: "O monster! mix'd of 
insolence and fear, Thou dog in 
forehead, but in heart a deer! When 
wert thou known in ambush'd fights to 
dare, Or nobly face the horrid front of 
war? 'Tis ours, the chance of fighting 
fields to try; Thine to look on, and 
bid the valiant die: So much 'tis safer 
through the camp to go, And rob a 
subject, than despoil a foe. Scourge of 
thy people, violent and base! Sent in 
Jove's anger on a slavish race; Who, 
lost to sense of generous freedom past, 
Are tamed to wrongs;--or this had been 
thy last. Now by this sacred sceptre 
hear me swear, Which never more shall 
leaves or blossoms bear, Which sever'd 
from the trunk (as I from thee) On the 
bare mountains left its parent tree; 
This sceptre, form'd by temper'd steel 
to prove An ensign of the delegates of 
Jove, From whom the power of laws and 
justice springs (Tremendous oath! 
inviolate to kings); By this I 
swear:--when bleeding Greece again 
Shall call Achilles, she shall call in 
vain. When, flush'd with slaughter, 
Hector comes to spread The purpled 
shore with mountains of the dead, Then 
shall thou mourn the affront thy 
madness gave, Forced to deplore when 
impotent to save: Then rage in 
bitterness of soul to know This act has 
made the bravest Greek thy foe."

 He spoke; and furious hurl'd against 
the ground His sceptre starr'd with 
golden studs around: Then sternly 
silent sat. With like disdain The 
raging king return'd his frowns again.

 To calm their passion with the words 
of age, Slow from his seat arose the 
Pylian sage, Experienced Nestor, in 
persuasion skill'd; Words, sweet as 
honey, from his lips distill'd: Two 
generations now had pass'd away, Wise 
by his rules, and happy by his sway; 
Two ages o'er his native realm he 
reign'd, And now the example of the 
third remain'd. All view'd with awe the 
venerable man; Who thus with mild 
benevolence began:--

 "What shame, what woe is this to 
Greece! what joy To Troy's proud 
monarch, and the friends of Troy! That 
adverse gods commit to stern debate The 
best, the bravest, of the Grecian 
state. Young as ye are, this youthful 
heat restrain, Nor think your Nestor's 
years and wisdom vain. A godlike race 
of heroes once I knew, Such as no more 
these aged eyes shall view! Lives there 
a chief to match Pirithous' fame, Dryas 
the bold, or Ceneus' deathless name; 
Theseus, endued with more than mortal 
might, Or Polyphemus, like the gods in 
fight? With these of old, to toils of 
battle bred, In early youth my hardy 
days I led; Fired with the thirst which 
virtuous envy breeds, And smit with 
love of honourable deeds, Strongest of 
men, they pierced the mountain boar, 
Ranged the wild deserts red with 
monsters' gore, And from their hills 
the shaggy Centaurs tore: Yet these 
with soft persuasive arts I sway'd; 
When Nestor spoke, they listen'd and 
obey'd. If in my youth, even these 
esteem'd me wise; Do you, young 
warriors, hear my age advise. Atrides, 
seize not on the beauteous slave; That 
prize the Greeks by common suffrage 
gave: Nor thou, Achilles, treat our 
prince with pride; Let kings be just, 
and sovereign power preside. Thee, the 
first honours of the war adorn, Like 
gods in strength, and of a goddess 
born; Him, awful majesty exalts above 
The powers of earth, and sceptred sons 
of Jove. Let both unite with 
well-consenting mind, So shall 
authority with strength be join'd. 
Leave me, O king! to calm Achilles' 
rage; Rule thou thyself, as more 
advanced in age. Forbid it, gods! 
Achilles should be lost, The pride of 
Greece, and bulwark of our host."

 This said, he ceased. The king of men 
replies: "Thy years are awful, and thy 
words are wise. But that imperious, 
that unconquer'd soul, No laws can 
limit, no respect control. Before his 
pride must his superiors fall; His word 
the law, and he the lord of all? Him 
must our hosts, our chiefs, ourself 
obey? What king can bear a rival in his 
sway? Grant that the gods his matchless 
force have given; Has foul reproach a 
privilege from heaven?"

 Here on the monarch's speech Achilles 
broke, And furious, thus, and 
interrupting spoke: "Tyrant, I well 
deserved thy galling chain, To live thy 
slave, and still to serve in vain, 
Should I submit to each unjust 
decree:-- Command thy vassals, but 
command not me. Seize on Briseis, whom 
the Grecians doom'd My prize of war, 
yet tamely see resumed; And seize 
secure; no more Achilles draws His 
conquering sword in any woman's cause. 
The gods command me to forgive the 
past: But let this first invasion be 
the last: For know, thy blood, when 
next thou darest invade, Shall stream 
in vengeance on my reeking blade."

 At this they ceased: the stern debate 
expired: The chiefs in sullen majesty 
retired.

 Achilles with Patroclus took his way 
Where near his tents his hollow vessels 
lay. Meantime Atrides launch'd with 
numerous oars A well-rigg'd ship for 
Chrysa's sacred shores: High on the 
deck was fair Chryseis placed, And sage 
Ulysses with the conduct graced: Safe 
in her sides the hecatomb they stow'd, 
Then swiftly sailing, cut the liquid 
road.

 The host to expiate next the king 
prepares, With pure lustrations, and 
with solemn prayers. Wash'd by the 
briny wave, the pious train Are 
cleansed; and cast the ablutions in the 
main. Along the shore whole hecatombs 
were laid, And bulls and goats to 
Phoebus' altars paid; The sable fumes 
in curling spires arise, And waft their 
grateful odours to the skies.

 The army thus in sacred rites engaged, 
Atrides still with deep resentment 
raged. To wait his will two sacred 
heralds stood, Talthybius and Eurybates 
the good. "Haste to the fierce 
Achilles' tent (he cries), Thence bear 
Briseis as our royal prize: Submit he 
must; or if they will not part, Ourself 
in arms shall tear her from his heart."

 The unwilling heralds act their lord's 
commands; Pensive they walk along the 
barren sands: Arrived, the hero in his 
tent they find, With gloomy aspect on 
his arm reclined. At awful distance 
long they silent stand, Loth to 
advance, and speak their hard command; 
Decent confusion! This the godlike man 
Perceived, and thus with accent mild 
began:

 "With leave and honour enter our 
abodes, Ye sacred ministers of men and 
gods! I know your message; by 
constraint you came; Not you, but your 
imperious lord I blame. Patroclus, 
haste, the fair Briseis bring; Conduct 
my captive to the haughty king. But 
witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow, 
Witness to gods above, and men below! 
But first, and loudest, to your prince 
declare (That lawless tyrant whose 
commands you bear), Unmoved as death 
Achilles shall remain, Though prostrate 
Greece shall bleed at every vein: The 
raging chief in frantic passion lost, 
Blind to himself, and useless to his 
host, Unskill'd to judge the future by 
the past, In blood and slaughter shall 
repent at last." 

 THE DEPARTURE OF BRISEIS FROM THE TENT 
OF ACHILLES. 

 Patroclus now the unwilling beauty 
brought; She, in soft sorrows, and in 
pensive thought, Pass'd silent, as the 
heralds held her hand, And of look'd 
back, slow-moving o'er the strand. Not 
so his loss the fierce Achilles bore; 
But sad, retiring to the sounding 
shore, O'er the wild margin of the deep 
he hung, That kindred deep from whence 
his mother sprung: There bathed in 
tears of anger and disdain, Thus loud 
lamented to the stormy main:

 "O parent goddess! since in early 
bloom Thy son must fall, by too severe 
a doom; Sure to so short a race of 
glory born, Great Jove in justice 
should this span adorn: Honour and fame 
at least the thunderer owed; And ill he 
pays the promise of a god, If yon proud 
monarch thus thy son defies, Obscures 
my glories, and resumes my prize."

 Far from the deep recesses of the 
main, Where aged Ocean holds his watery 
reign, The goddess-mother heard. The 
waves divide; And like a mist she rose 
above the tide; Beheld him mourning on 
the naked shores, And thus the sorrows 
of his soul explores. "Why grieves my 
son? Thy anguish let me share; Reveal 
the cause, and trust a parent's care."

 He deeply sighing said: "To tell my 
woe Is but to mention what too well you 
know. From Thebe, sacred to Apollo's 
name (Aetion's realm), our conquering 
army came, With treasure loaded and 
triumphant spoils, Whose just division 
crown'd the soldier's toils; But bright 
Chryseis, heavenly prize! was led, By 
vote selected, to the general's bed. 
The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts 
to gain His beauteous daughter from the 
victor's chain; The fleet he reach'd, 
and, lowly bending down, Held forth the 
sceptre and the laurel crown, 
Intreating all; but chief implored for 
grace The brother-kings of Atreus' 
royal race: The generous Greeks their 
joint consent declare, The priest to 
reverence, and release the fair; Not so 
Atrides: he, with wonted pride, The 
sire insulted, and his gifts denied: 
The insulted sire (his god's peculiar 
care) To Phoebus pray'd, and Phoebus 
heard the prayer: A dreadful plague 
ensues: the avenging darts Incessant 
fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts. A 
prophet then, inspired by heaven, 
arose, And points the crime, and thence 
derives the woes: Myself the first the 
assembled chiefs incline To avert the 
vengeance of the power divine; Then 
rising in his wrath, the monarch 
storm'd; Incensed he threaten'd, and 
his threats perform'd: The fair 
Chryseis to her sire was sent, With 
offer'd gifts to make the god relent; 
But now he seized Briseis' heavenly 
charms, And of my valour's prize 
defrauds my arms, Defrauds the votes of 
all the Grecian train; And service, 
faith, and justice, plead in vain. But, 
goddess! thou thy suppliant son attend. 
To high Olympus' shining court ascend, 
Urge all the ties to former service 
owed, And sue for vengeance to the 
thundering god. Oft hast thou triumph'd 
in the glorious boast, That thou 
stood'st forth of all the ethereal 
host, When bold rebellion shook the 
realms above, The undaunted guard of 
cloud-compelling Jove: When the bright 
partner of his awful reign, The warlike 
maid, and monarch of the main, The 
traitor-gods, by mad ambition driven, 
Durst threat with chains the 
omnipotence of Heaven. Then, call'd by 
thee, the monster Titan came (Whom gods 
Briareus, men Ćgeon name), Through 
wondering skies enormous stalk'd along; 
Not he that shakes the solid earth so 
strong: With giant-pride at Jove's high 
throne he stands, And brandish'd round 
him all his hundred hands: The 
affrighted gods confess'd their awful 
lord, They dropp'd the fetters, 
trembled, and adored. This, goddess, 
this to his remembrance call, Embrace 
his knees, at his tribunal fall; 
Conjure him far to drive the Grecian 
train, To hurl them headlong to their 
fleet and main, To heap the shores with 
copious death, and bring The Greeks to 
know the curse of such a king. Let 
Agamemnon lift his haughty head O'er 
all his wide dominion of the dead, And 
mourn in blood that e'er he durst 
disgrace The boldest warrior of the 
Grecian race." 

 THETIS CALLING BRIAREUS TO THE 
ASSISTANCE OF JUPITER. 

 "Unhappy son! (fair Thetis thus 
replies, While tears celestial trickle 
from her eyes) Why have I borne thee 
with a mother's throes, To Fates 
averse, and nursed for future woes? So 
short a space the light of heaven to 
view! So short a space! and fill'd with 
sorrow too! O might a parent's careful 
wish prevail, Far, far from Ilion 
should thy vessels sail, And thou, from 
camps remote, the danger shun Which 
now, alas! too nearly threats my son. 
Yet (what I can) to move thy suit I'll 
go To great Olympus crown'd with fleecy 
snow. Meantime, secure within thy 
ships, from far Behold the field, not 
mingle in the war. The sire of gods and 
all the ethereal train, On the warm 
limits of the farthest main, Now mix 
with mortals, nor disdain to grace The 
feasts of Ćthiopia's blameless race, 
Twelve days the powers indulge the 
genial rite, Returning with the twelfth 
revolving light. Then will I mount the 
brazen dome, and move The high tribunal 
of immortal Jove."

 The goddess spoke: the rolling waves 
unclose; Then down the steep she 
plunged from whence she rose, And left 
him sorrowing on the lonely coast, In 
wild resentment for the fair he lost.

 In Chrysa's port now sage Ulysses 
rode; Beneath the deck the destined 
victims stow'd: The sails they furl'd, 
they lash the mast aside, And dropp'd 
their anchors, and the pinnace tied. 
Next on the shore their hecatomb they 
land; Chryseis last descending on the 
strand. Her, thus returning from the 
furrow'd main, Ulysses led to Phoebus' 
sacred fane; Where at his solemn altar, 
as the maid He gave to Chryses, thus 
the hero said:

 "Hail, reverend priest! to Phoebus' 
awful dome A suppliant I from great 
Atrides come: Unransom'd, here receive 
the spotless fair; Accept the hecatomb 
the Greeks prepare; And may thy god who 
scatters darts around, Atoned by 
sacrifice, desist to wound." 

 At this, the sire embraced the maid 
again, So sadly lost, so lately sought 
in vain. Then near the altar of the 
darting king, Disposed in rank their 
hecatomb they bring; With water purify 
their hands, and take The sacred 
offering of the salted cake; While thus 
with arms devoutly raised in air, And 
solemn voice, the priest directs his 
prayer:

 "God of the silver bow, thy ear 
incline, Whose power incircles Cilla 
the divine; Whose sacred eye thy 
Tenedos surveys, And gilds fair Chrysa 
with distinguish'd rays! If, fired to 
vengeance at thy priest's request, Thy 
direful darts inflict the raging pest: 
Once more attend! avert the wasteful 
woe, And smile propitious, and unbend 
thy bow."

 So Chryses pray'd. Apollo heard his 
prayer: And now the Greeks their 
hecatomb prepare; Between their horns 
the salted barley threw, And, with 
their heads to heaven, the victims 
slew: The limbs they sever from the 
inclosing hide; The thighs, selected to 
the gods, divide: On these, in double 
cauls involved with art, The choicest 
morsels lay from every part. The priest 
himself before his altar stands, And 
burns the offering with his holy hands. 
Pours the black wine, and sees the 
flames aspire; The youth with 
instruments surround the fire: The 
thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails 
dress'd, The assistants part, transfix, 
and roast the rest: Then spread the 
tables, the repast prepare; Each takes 
his seat, and each receives his share. 
When now the rage of hunger was 
repress'd, With pure libations they 
conclude the feast; The youths with 
wine the copious goblets crown'd, And, 
pleased, dispense the flowing bowls 
around;(69) With hymns divine the 
joyous banquet ends, The paeans 
lengthen'd till the sun descends: The 
Greeks, restored, the grateful notes 
prolong; Apollo listens, and approves 
the song.

 'Twas night; the chiefs beside their 
vessel lie, Till rosy morn had purpled 
o'er the sky: Then launch, and hoist 
the mast: indulgent gales, Supplied by 
Phoebus, fill the swelling sails; The 
milk-white canvas bellying as they 
blow, The parted ocean foams and roars 
below: Above the bounding billows swift 
they flew, Till now the Grecian camp 
appear'd in view. Far on the beach they 
haul their bark to land, (The crooked 
keel divides the yellow sand,) Then 
part, where stretch'd along the winding 
bay, The ships and tents in mingled 
prospect lay.

 But raging still, amidst his navy sat 
The stern Achilles, stedfast in his 
hate; Nor mix'd in combat, nor in 
council join'd; But wasting cares lay 
heavy on his mind: In his black 
thoughts revenge and slaughter roll, 
And scenes of blood rise dreadful in 
his soul.

 Twelve days were past, and now the 
dawning light The gods had summon'd to 
the Olympian height: Jove, first 
ascending from the watery bowers, Leads 
the long order of ethereal powers. 
When, like the morning-mist in early 
day, Rose from the flood the daughter 
of the sea: And to the seats divine her 
flight address'd. There, far apart, and 
high above the rest, The thunderer sat; 
where old Olympus shrouds His hundred 
heads in heaven, and props the clouds. 
Suppliant the goddess stood: one hand 
she placed Beneath his beard, and one 
his knees embraced. "If e'er, O father 
of the gods! (she said) My words could 
please thee, or my actions aid, Some 
marks of honour on my son bestow, And 
pay in glory what in life you owe. Fame 
is at least by heavenly promise due To 
life so short, and now dishonour'd too. 
Avenge this wrong, O ever just and 
wise! Let Greece be humbled, and the 
Trojans rise; Till the proud king and 
all the Achaian race Shall heap with 
honours him they now disgrace." 

 THETIS ENTREATING JUPITER TO HONOUR 
ACHILLES. 

 Thus Thetis spoke; but Jove in silence 
held The sacred counsels of his breast 
conceal'd. Not so repulsed, the goddess 
closer press'd, Still grasp'd his 
knees, and urged the dear request. "O 
sire of gods and men! thy suppliant 
hear; Refuse, or grant; for what has 
Jove to fear? Or oh! declare, of all 
the powers above, Is wretched Thetis 
least the care of Jove?"

 She said; and, sighing, thus the god 
replies, Who rolls the thunder o'er the 
vaulted skies:

 "What hast thou ask'd? ah, why should 
Jove engage In foreign contests and 
domestic rage, The gods' complaints, 
and Juno's fierce alarms, While I, too 
partial, aid the Trojan arms? Go, lest 
the haughty partner of my sway With 
jealous eyes thy close access survey; 
But part in peace, secure thy prayer is 
sped: Witness the sacred honours of our 
head, The nod that ratifies the will 
divine, The faithful, fix'd, 
irrevocable sign; This seals thy suit, 
and this fulfils thy vows--" He spoke, 
and awful bends his sable brows,(70) 
Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives 
the nod, The stamp of fate and sanction 
of the god: High heaven with trembling 
the dread signal took, And all Olympus 
to the centre shook.(71)

 Swift to the seas profound the goddess 
flies, Jove to his starry mansions in 
the skies. The shining synod of the 
immortals wait The coming god, and from 
their thrones of state Arising silent, 
wrapp'd in holy fear, Before the 
majesty of heaven appear. Trembling 
they stand, while Jove assumes the 
throne, All, but the god's imperious 
queen alone: Late had she view'd the 
silver-footed dame, And all her 
passions kindled into flame. "Say, 
artful manager of heaven (she cries), 
Who now partakes the secrets of the 
skies? Thy Juno knows not the decrees 
of fate, In vain the partner of 
imperial state. What favourite goddess 
then those cares divides, Which Jove in 
prudence from his consort hides?"

 To this the thunderer: "Seek not thou 
to find The sacred counsels of almighty 
mind: Involved in darkness likes the 
great decree, Nor can the depths of 
fate be pierced by thee. What fits thy 
knowledge, thou the first shalt know; 
The first of gods above, and men below; 
But thou, nor they, shall search the 
thoughts that roll Deep in the close 
recesses of my soul."

 Full on the sire the goddess of the 
skies Roll'd the large orbs of her 
majestic eyes, And thus 
return'd:--"Austere Saturnius, say, 
From whence this wrath, or who controls 
thy sway? Thy boundless will, for me, 
remains in force, And all thy counsels 
take the destined course. But 'tis for 
Greece I fear: for late was seen, In 
close consult, the silver-footed queen. 
Jove to his Thetis nothing could deny, 
Nor was the signal vain that shook the 
sky. What fatal favour has the goddess 
won, To grace her fierce, inexorable 
son? Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench 
the plain, And glut his vengeance with 
my people slain."

 Then thus the god: "O restless fate of 
pride, That strives to learn what 
heaven resolves to hide; Vain is the 
search, presumptuous and abhorr'd, 
Anxious to thee, and odious to thy 
lord. Let this suffice: the immutable 
decree No force can shake: what is, 
that ought to be. Goddess, submit; nor 
dare our will withstand, But dread the 
power of this avenging hand: The united 
strength of all the gods above In vain 
resists the omnipotence of Jove." 

 VULCAN. 

 The thunderer spoke, nor durst the 
queen reply; A reverent horror silenced 
all the sky. The feast disturb'd, with 
sorrow Vulcan saw His mother menaced, 
and the gods in awe; Peace at his 
heart, and pleasure his design, Thus 
interposed the architect divine: "The 
wretched quarrels of the mortal state 
Are far unworthy, gods! of your debate: 
Let men their days in senseless strife 
employ, We, in eternal peace and 
constant joy. Thou, goddess-mother, 
with our sire comply, Nor break the 
sacred union of the sky: Lest, roused 
to rage, he shake the bless'd abodes, 
Launch the red lightning, and dethrone 
the gods. If you submit, the thunderer 
stands appeased; The gracious power is 
willing to be pleased."

 Thus Vulcan spoke: and rising with a 
bound, The double bowl with sparkling 
nectar crown'd,(72) Which held to Juno 
in a cheerful way, "Goddess (he cried), 
be patient and obey. Dear as you are, 
if Jove his arm extend, I can but 
grieve, unable to defend What god so 
daring in your aid to move, Or lift his 
hand against the force of Jove? Once in 
your cause I felt his matchless might, 
Hurl'd headlong down from the ethereal 
height;(73) Toss'd all the day in rapid 
circles round, Nor till the sun 
descended touch'd the ground. 
Breathless I fell, in giddy motion 
lost; The Sinthians raised me on the 
Lemnian coast;(74)

 He said, and to her hands the goblet 
heaved, Which, with a smile, the 
white-arm'd queen received Then, to the 
rest he fill'd; and in his turn, Each 
to his lips applied the nectar'd urn, 
Vulcan with awkward grace his office 
plies, And unextinguish'd laughter 
shakes the skies.

 Thus the blest gods the genial day 
prolong, In feasts ambrosial, and 
celestial song.(75) Apollo tuned the 
lyre; the Muses round With voice 
alternate aid the silver sound. 
Meantime the radiant sun to mortal 
sight Descending swift, roll'd down the 
rapid light: Then to their starry domes 
the gods depart, The shining monuments 
of Vulcan's art: Jove on his couch 
reclined his awful head, And Juno 
slumber'd on the golden bed. 

 JUPITER. 



 THE APOTHEOSIS OF HOMER. 

 

BOOK II. 

ARGUMENT.

THE TRIAL OF THE ARMY, AND CATALOGUE OF 
THE FORCES.

Jupiter, in pursuance of the request of 
Thetis, sends a deceitful vision to 
Agamemnon, persuading him to lead the 
army to battle, in order to make the 
Greeks sensible of their want of 
Achilles. The general, who is deluded 
with the hopes of taking Troy without 
his assistance, but fears the army was 
discouraged by his absence, and the 
late plague, as well as by the length 
of time, contrives to make trial of 
their disposition by a stratagem. He 
first communicates his design to the 
princes in council, that he would 
propose a return to the soldiers, and 
that they should put a stop to them if 
the proposal was embraced. Then he 
assembles the whole host, and upon 
moving for a return to Greece, they 
unanimously agree to it, and run to 
prepare the ships. They are detained by 
the management of Ulysses, who 
chastises the insolence of Thersites. 
The assembly is recalled, several 
speeches made on the occasion, and at 
length the advice of Nestor followed, 
which was to make a general muster of 
the troops, and to divide them into 
their several nations, before they 
proceeded to battle. This gives 
occasion to the poet to enumerate all 
the forces of the Greeks and Trojans, 
and in a large catalogue.

The time employed in this book consists 
not entirely of one day. The scene lies 
in the Grecian camp, and upon the 
sea-shore; towards the end it removes 
to Troy.

 Now pleasing sleep had seal'd each 
mortal eye, Stretch'd in the tents the 
Grecian leaders lie: The immortals 
slumber'd on their thrones above; All, 
but the ever-wakeful eyes of Jove.(76) 
To honour Thetis' son he bends his 
care, And plunge the Greeks in all the 
woes of war: Then bids an empty phantom 
rise to sight, And thus commands the 
vision of the night.

 "Fly hence, deluding Dream! and light 
as air,(77) To Agamemnon's ample tent 
repair. Bid him in arms draw forth the 
embattled train, Lead all his Grecians 
to the dusty plain. Declare, e'en now 
'tis given him to destroy The lofty 
towers of wide-extended Troy. For now 
no more the gods with fate contend, At 
Juno's suit the heavenly factions end. 
Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted 
wall, And nodding Ilion waits the 
impending fall."

 Swift as the word the vain illusion 
fled, Descends, and hovers o'er 
Atrides' head; Clothed in the figure of 
the Pylian sage, Renown'd for wisdom, 
and revered for age: Around his temples 
spreads his golden wing, And thus the 
flattering dream deceives the king. 

 JUPITER SENDING THE EVIL DREAM TO 
AGAMEMNON. 

 "Canst thou, with all a monarch's 
cares oppress'd, O Atreus' son! canst 
thou indulge the rest?(78) Ill fits a 
chief who mighty nations guides, 
Directs in council, and in war 
presides, To whom its safety a whole 
people owes, To waste long nights in 
indolent repose.(79) Monarch, awake! 
'tis Jove's command I bear; Thou, and 
thy glory, claim his heavenly care. In 
just array draw forth the embattled 
train, Lead all thy Grecians to the 
dusty plain; E'en now, O king! 'tis 
given thee to destroy The lofty towers 
of wide-extended Troy. For now no more 
the gods with fate contend, At Juno's 
suit the heavenly factions end. 
Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted 
wall, And nodding Ilion waits the 
impending fall. Awake, but waking this 
advice approve, And trust the vision 
that descends from Jove."

 The phantom said; then vanish'd from 
his sight, Resolves to air, and mixes 
with the night. A thousand schemes the 
monarch's mind employ; Elate in thought 
he sacks untaken Troy: Vain as he was, 
and to the future blind, Nor saw what 
Jove and secret fate design'd, What 
mighty toils to either host remain, 
What scenes of grief, and numbers of 
the slain! Eager he rises, and in fancy 
hears The voice celestial murmuring in 
his ears. First on his limbs a slender 
vest he drew, Around him next the regal 
mantle threw, The embroider'd sandals 
on his feet were tied; The starry 
falchion glitter'd at his side; And 
last, his arm the massy sceptre loads, 
Unstain'd, immortal, and the gift of 
gods.

 Now rosy Morn ascends the court of 
Jove, Lifts up her light, and opens day 
above. The king despatch'd his heralds 
with commands To range the camp and 
summon all the bands: The gathering 
hosts the monarch's word obey; While to 
the fleet Atrides bends his way. In his 
black ship the Pylian prince he found; 
There calls a senate of the peers 
around: The assembly placed, the king 
of men express'd The counsels labouring 
in his artful breast.

 "Friends and confederates! with 
attentive ear Receive my words, and 
credit what you hear. Late as I 
slumber'd in the shades of night, A 
dream divine appear'd before my sight; 
Whose visionary form like Nestor came, 
The same in habit, and in mien the 
same.(80) The heavenly phantom hover'd 
o'er my head, 'And, dost thou sleep, O 
Atreus' son? (he said) Ill fits a chief 
who mighty nations guides, Directs in 
council, and in war presides; To whom 
its safety a whole people owes, To 
waste long nights in indolent repose. 
Monarch, awake! 'tis Jove's command I 
bear, Thou and thy glory claim his 
heavenly care. In just array draw forth 
the embattled train, And lead the 
Grecians to the dusty plain; E'en now, 
O king! 'tis given thee to destroy The 
lofty towers of wide-extended Troy. For 
now no more the gods with fate contend, 
At Juno's suit the heavenly factions 
end. Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted 
wall, And nodding Ilion waits the 
impending fall.

 This hear observant, and the gods 
obey!' The vision spoke, and pass'd in 
air away. Now, valiant chiefs! since 
heaven itself alarms, Unite, and rouse 
the sons of Greece to arms. But first, 
with caution, try what yet they dare, 
Worn with nine years of unsuccessful 
war. To move the troops to measure back 
the main, Be mine; and yours the 
province to detain."

 He spoke, and sat: when Nestor, rising 
said, (Nestor, whom Pylos' sandy realms 
obey'd,) "Princes of Greece, your 
faithful ears incline, Nor doubt the 
vision of the powers divine; Sent by 
great Jove to him who rules the host, 
Forbid it, heaven! this warning should 
be lost! Then let us haste, obey the 
god's alarms, And join to rouse the 
sons of Greece to arms."

 Thus spoke the sage: the kings without 
delay Dissolve the council, and their 
chief obey: The sceptred rulers lead; 
the following host, Pour'd forth by 
thousands, darkens all the coast. As 
from some rocky cleft the shepherd sees 
Clustering in heaps on heaps the 
driving bees, Rolling and blackening, 
swarms succeeding swarms, With deeper 
murmurs and more hoarse alarms; Dusky 
they spread, a close embodied crowd, 
And o'er the vale descends the living 
cloud.(81) So, from the tents and 
ships, a lengthen'd train Spreads all 
the beach, and wide o'ershades the 
plain: Along the region runs a 
deafening sound; Beneath their 
footsteps groans the trembling ground. 
Fame flies before the messenger of 
Jove, And shining soars, and claps her 
wings above. Nine sacred heralds now, 
proclaiming loud(82) The monarch's 
will, suspend the listening crowd. Soon 
as the throngs in order ranged appear, 
And fainter murmurs died upon the ear, 
The king of kings his awful figure 
raised: High in his hand the golden 
sceptre blazed; The golden sceptre, of 
celestial flame, By Vulcan form'd, from 
Jove to Hermes came. To Pelops he the 
immortal gift resign'd; The immortal 
gift great Pelops left behind, In 
Atreus' hand, which not with Atreus 
ends, To rich Thyestes next the prize 
descends; And now the mark of 
Agamemnon's reign, Subjects all Argos, 
and controls the main.(83)

 On this bright sceptre now the king 
reclined, And artful thus pronounced 
the speech design'd: "Ye sons of Mars, 
partake your leader's care, Heroes of 
Greece, and brothers of the war! Of 
partial Jove with justice I complain, 
And heavenly oracles believed in vain A 
safe return was promised to our toils, 
Renown'd, triumphant, and enrich'd with 
spoils. Now shameful flight alone can 
save the host, Our blood, our treasure, 
and our glory lost. So Jove decrees, 
resistless lord of all! At whose 
command whole empires rise or fall: He 
shakes the feeble props of human trust, 
And towns and armies humbles to the 
dust What shame to Greece a fruitful 
war to wage, Oh, lasting shame in every 
future age! Once great in arms, the 
common scorn we grow, Repulsed and 
baffled by a feeble foe. So small their 
number, that if wars were ceased, And 
Greece triumphant held a general feast, 
All rank'd by tens, whole decades when 
they dine Must want a Trojan slave to 
pour the wine.(84) But other forces 
have our hopes o'erthrown, And Troy 
prevails by armies not her own. Now 
nine long years of mighty Jove are run, 
Since first the labours of this war 
begun: Our cordage torn, decay'd our 
vessels lie, And scarce insure the 
wretched power to fly. Haste, then, for 
ever leave the Trojan wall! Our weeping 
wives, our tender children call: Love, 
duty, safety, summon us away, 'Tis 
nature's voice, and nature we obey, Our 
shatter'd barks may yet transport us 
o'er, Safe and inglorious, to our 
native shore. Fly, Grecians, fly, your 
sails and oars employ, And dream no 
more of heaven-defended Troy."

 His deep design unknown, the hosts 
approve Atrides' speech. The mighty 
numbers move. So roll the billows to 
the Icarian shore, 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,(85) Before the blast the lofty 
harvests bend: 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 loose sands, 
and thicken to the fleet; With 
long-resounding cries they urge the 
train To fit the ships, and launch into 
the main. They toil, they sweat, thick 
clouds of dust arise, The doubling 
clamours echo to the skies. E'en then 
the Greeks had left the hostile plain, 
And fate decreed the fall of Troy in 
vain; But Jove's imperial queen their 
flight survey'd, And sighing thus 
bespoke the blue-eyed maid:

 "Shall then the Grecians fly! O dire 
disgrace! And leave unpunish'd this 
perfidious race? Shall Troy, shall 
Priam, and the adulterous spouse, In 
peace enjoy the fruits of broken vows? 
And bravest chiefs, in Helen's quarrel 
slain, Lie unrevenged on yon detested 
plain? No: let my Greeks, unmoved by 
vain alarms, Once more refulgent shine 
in brazen arms. Haste, goddess, haste! 
the flying host detain, Nor let one 
sail be hoisted on the main."

 Pallas obeys, and from Olympus' height 
Swift to the ships precipitates her 
flight. Ulysses, first in public cares, 
she found, For prudent counsel like the 
gods renown'd: Oppress'd with generous 
grief the hero stood, Nor drew his 
sable vessels to the flood. "And is it 
thus, divine Laertes' son, Thus fly the 
Greeks (the martial maid begun), Thus 
to their country bear their own 
disgrace, And fame eternal leave to 
Priam's race? Shall beauteous Helen 
still remain unfreed, Still unrevenged, 
a thousand heroes bleed! Haste, 
generous Ithacus! prevent the shame, 
Recall your armies, and your chiefs 
reclaim. Your own resistless eloquence 
employ, And to the immortals trust the 
fall of Troy."

 The voice divine confess'd the warlike 
maid, Ulysses heard, nor uninspired 
obey'd: Then meeting first Atrides, 
from his hand Received the imperial 
sceptre of command. Thus graced, 
attention and respect to gain, He runs, 
he flies through all the Grecian train; 
Each prince of name, or chief in arms 
approved, He fired with praise, or with 
persuasion moved.

 "Warriors like you, with strength and 
wisdom bless'd, By brave examples 
should confirm the rest. The monarch's 
will not yet reveal'd appears; He tries 
our courage, but resents our fears. The 
unwary Greeks his fury may provoke; Not 
thus the king in secret council spoke. 
Jove loves our chief, from Jove his 
honour springs, Beware! for dreadful is 
the wrath of kings."

 But if a clamorous vile plebeian rose, 
Him with reproof he check'd or tamed 
with blows. "Be still, thou slave, and 
to thy betters yield; Unknown alike in 
council and in field! Ye gods, what 
dastards would our host command! Swept 
to the war, the lumber of a land. Be 
silent, wretch, and think not here 
allow'd That worst of tyrants, an 
usurping crowd. To one sole monarch 
Jove commits the sway; His are the 
laws, and him let all obey."(86)

 With words like these the troops 
Ulysses ruled, The loudest silenced, 
and the fiercest cool'd. Back to the 
assembly roll the thronging train, 
Desert the ships, and pour upon the 
plain. Murmuring they move, as when old 
ocean roars, And heaves huge surges to 
the trembling shores; 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 silence 
lulls the camp to peace. Thersites only 
clamour'd in the throng, Loquacious, 
loud, and turbulent of tongue: Awed by 
no shame, by no respect controll'd, In 
scandal busy, in reproaches bold: With 
witty malice studious to defame, Scorn 
all his joy, and laughter all his 
aim:-- But chief he gloried with 
licentious style To lash the great, and 
monarchs to revile. His figure such as 
might his soul proclaim; One eye was 
blinking, and one leg was lame: His 
mountain shoulders half his breast 
o'erspread, Thin hairs bestrew'd his 
long misshapen head. Spleen to mankind 
his envious heart possess'd, And much 
he hated all, but most the best: 
Ulysses or Achilles still his theme; 
But royal scandal his delight supreme, 
Long had he lived the scorn of every 
Greek, Vex'd when he spoke, yet still 
they heard him speak. Sharp was his 
voice; which in the shrillest tone, 
Thus with injurious taunts attack'd the 
throne.

 "Amidst the glories of so bright a 
reign, What moves the great Atrides to 
complain? 'Tis thine whate'er the 
warrior'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. Thus at full ease in 
heaps of riches roll'd, What grieves 
the monarch? Is it thirst of gold? Say, 
shall we march with our unconquer'd 
powers (The Greeks and I) to Ilion's 
hostile towers, And bring the race of 
royal bastards here, For Troy to ransom 
at a price too dear? But safer plunder 
thy own host supplies; Say, wouldst 
thou seize some valiant leader's prize? 
Or, if thy heart to generous love be 
led, Some captive fair, to bless thy 
kingly bed? Whate'er our master craves 
submit we must, Plagued with his pride, 
or punish'd for his lust. Oh women of 
Achaia; men no more! Hence let us fly, 
and let him waste his store In loves 
and pleasures on the Phrygian shore. We 
may be wanted on some busy day, When 
Hector comes: so great Achilles may: 
From him he forced the prize we jointly 
gave, From him, the fierce, the 
fearless, and the brave: And durst he, 
as he ought, resent that wrong, This 
mighty tyrant were no tyrant long."

 Fierce from his seat at this Ulysses 
springs,(87) In generous vengeance of 
the king of kings. With indignation 
sparkling in his eyes, He views the 
wretch, and sternly thus replies:

 "Peace, factious monster, born to vex 
the state, With wrangling talents 
form'd for foul debate: Curb that 
impetuous tongue, nor rashly vain, And 
singly mad, asperse the sovereign 
reign. Have we not known thee, slave! 
of all our host, The man who acts the 
least, upbraids the most? Think not the 
Greeks to shameful flight 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. 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, 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, Expel the council 
where our princes meet, And send thee 
scourged and howling through the fleet."

 He said, and cowering as the dastard 
bends, The weighty sceptre on his bank 
descends.(88) On the round bunch the 
bloody tumours rise: The tears spring 
starting from his haggard eyes; 
Trembling he sat, and shrunk in abject 
fears, From his vile visage wiped the 
scalding tears; While to his neighbour 
each express'd his thought:

 "Ye gods! what wonders has Ulysses 
wrought! What fruits his conduct and 
his courage yield! Great in the 
council, glorious in the field. 
Generous he rises in the crown's 
defence, To curb the factious tongue of 
insolence, Such just examples on 
offenders shown, Sedition silence, and 
assert the throne."

 'Twas thus the general voice the hero 
praised, Who, rising, high the imperial 
sceptre raised: The blue-eyed Pallas, 
his celestial friend, (In form a 
herald,) bade the crowds attend. The 
expecting crowds in still attention 
hung, To hear the wisdom of his 
heavenly tongue. Then deeply 
thoughtful, pausing ere he spoke, His 
silence thus the prudent hero broke:

 "Unhappy monarch! whom the Grecian 
race With shame deserting, heap with 
vile disgrace. Not such at Argos was 
their generous vow: Once all their 
voice, but ah! forgotten now: Ne'er to 
return, was then the common cry, Till 
Troy's proud structures should in ashes 
lie. Behold them weeping for their 
native shore; What could their wives or 
helpless children more? What heart but 
melts to leave the tender train, And, 
one short month, endure the wintry 
main? Few leagues removed, we wish our 
peaceful seat, When the ship tosses, 
and the tempests beat: Then well may 
this long stay provoke their tears, The 
tedious length of nine revolving years. 
Not for their grief the Grecian host I 
blame; But vanquish'd! baffled! oh, 
eternal shame! Expect the time to 
Troy's destruction given. And try the 
faith of Chalcas and of heaven. What 
pass'd at Aulis, Greece can witness 
bear,(89) And all who live to breathe 
this Phrygian air. Beside a fountain's 
sacred brink we raised Our verdant 
altars, and the victims blazed: 'Twas 
where the plane-tree spread its shades 
around, The altars heaved; and from the 
crumbling ground A mighty dragon shot, 
of dire portent; From Jove himself the 
dreadful sign was sent. Straight to the 
tree his sanguine spires he roll'd, And 
curl'd around in many a winding fold; 
The topmost branch a mother-bird 
possess'd; Eight callow infants fill'd 
the mossy nest; Herself the ninth; the 
serpent, as he hung, Stretch'd his 
black jaws and crush'd the crying 
young; While hovering near, with 
miserable moan, The drooping mother 
wail'd her children gone. The mother 
last, as round the nest she flew, 
Seized by the beating wing, the monster 
slew; Nor long survived: to marble 
turn'd, he stands A lasting prodigy on 
Aulis' sands. Such was the will of 
Jove; and hence we dare Trust in his 
omen, and support the war. For while 
around we gazed with wondering eyes, 
And trembling sought the powers with 
sacrifice, Full of his god, the 
reverend Chalcas cried,(90) 'Ye Grecian 
warriors! lay your fears aside. This 
wondrous signal Jove himself displays, 
Of long, long labours, but eternal 
praise. As many birds as by the snake 
were slain, So many years the toils of 
Greece remain; But wait the tenth, for 
Ilion's fall decreed:' Thus spoke the 
prophet, thus the Fates succeed. Obey, 
ye Grecians! with submission wait, Nor 
let your flight avert the Trojan fate." 
He said: the shores with loud applauses 
sound, The hollow ships each deafening 
shout rebound. Then Nestor thus--"These 
vain debates forbear, Ye talk like 
children, not like heroes dare. Where 
now are all your high resolves at last? 
Your leagues concluded, your 
engagements past? Vow'd with libations 
and with victims then, Now vanish'd 
like their smoke: the faith of men! 
While useless words consume the 
unactive hours, No wonder Troy so long 
resists our powers. Rise, great 
Atrides! and with courage sway; We 
march to war, if thou direct the way. 
But leave the few that dare resist thy 
laws, The mean deserters of the Grecian 
cause, To grudge the conquests mighty 
Jove prepares, And view with envy our 
successful wars. On that great day, 
when first the martial train, Big with 
the fate of Ilion, plough'd the main, 
Jove, on the right, a prosperous signal 
sent, And thunder rolling shook the 
firmament. Encouraged hence, maintain 
the glorious strife, Till every soldier 
grasp a Phrygian wife, Till Helen's 
woes at full revenged appear, And 
Troy's proud matrons render tear for 
tear. Before that day, if any Greek 
invite His country's troops to base, 
inglorious flight, Stand forth that 
Greek! and hoist his sail to fly, And 
die the dastard first, who dreads to 
die. But now, O monarch! all thy chiefs 
advise:(91) Nor what they offer, thou 
thyself despise. Among those counsels, 
let not mine be vain; In tribes and 
nations to divide thy train: His 
separate troops let every leader call, 
Each strengthen each, and all encourage 
all. What chief, or soldier, of the 
numerous band, Or bravely fights, or 
ill obeys command, When thus distinct 
they war, shall soon be known And what 
the cause of Ilion not o'erthrown; If 
fate resists, or if our arms are slow, 
If gods above prevent, or men below."

 To him the king: "How much thy years 
excel In arts of counsel, and in 
speaking well! O would the gods, in 
love to Greece, decree But ten such 
sages as they grant in thee; Such 
wisdom soon should Priam's force 
destroy, And soon should fall the 
haughty towers of Troy! But Jove 
forbids, who plunges those he hates In 
fierce contention and in vain debates: 
Now great Achilles from our aid 
withdraws, By me provoked; a captive 
maid the cause: If e'er as friends we 
join, the Trojan wall Must shake, and 
heavy will the vengeance fall! But now, 
ye warriors, take a short repast; And, 
well refresh'd, to bloody conflict 
haste. His sharpen'd spear let every 
Grecian wield, And every Grecian fix 
his brazen shield, Let all excite the 
fiery steeds of war, And all for combat 
fit the rattling car. This day, this 
dreadful day, let each contend; No 
rest, no respite, till the shades 
descend; Till darkness, or till death, 
shall cover all: Let the war bleed, and 
let the mighty fall; Till bathed in 
sweat be every manly breast, With the 
huge shield each brawny arm depress'd, 
Each aching nerve refuse the lance to 
throw, And each spent courser at the 
chariot blow. Who dares, inglorious, in 
his ships to stay, Who dares to tremble 
on this signal day; That wretch, too 
mean to fall by martial power, The 
birds shall mangle, and the dogs 
devour."

 The monarch spoke; and straight a 
murmur rose, Loud as the surges when 
the tempest blows, That dash'd on 
broken rocks tumultuous roar, And foam 
and thunder on the stony shore. 
Straight to the tents the troops 
dispersing bend, The fires are kindled, 
and the smokes ascend; With hasty 
feasts they sacrifice, and pray, To 
avert the dangers of the doubtful day. 
A steer of five years' age, large 
limb'd, and fed,(92) To Jove's high 
altars Agamemnon led: There bade the 
noblest of the Grecian peers; And 
Nestor first, as most advanced in 
years. Next came Idomeneus,(93) and 
Tydeus' son,(94) Ajax the less, and 
Ajax Telamon;(95) Then wise Ulysses in 
his rank was placed; And Menelaus came, 
unbid, the last.(96) The chiefs 
surround the destined beast, and take 
The sacred offering of the salted cake: 
When thus the king prefers his solemn 
prayer; "O thou! whose thunder rends 
the clouded air, Who in the heaven of 
heavens hast fixed thy throne, Supreme 
of gods! unbounded, and alone! Hear! 
and before the burning sun descends, 
Before the night her gloomy veil 
extends, Low in the dust be laid yon 
hostile spires, Be Priam's palace sunk 
in Grecian fires. In Hector's breast be 
plunged this shining sword, And 
slaughter'd heroes groan around their 
lord!"

 Thus prayed the chief: his unavailing 
prayer Great Jove refused, and toss'd 
in empty air: The God averse, while yet 
the fumes arose, Prepared new toils, 
and doubled woes on woes. Their prayers 
perform'd the chiefs the rite pursue, 
The barley sprinkled, and the victim 
slew. The limbs they sever from the 
inclosing hide, The thighs, selected to 
the gods, divide. On these, in double 
cauls involved with art, The choicest 
morsels lie from every part, From the 
cleft wood the crackling flames aspire 
While the fat victims feed the sacred 
fire. The thighs thus sacrificed, and 
entrails dress'd The assistants part, 
transfix, and roast the rest; Then 
spread the tables, the repast prepare, 
Each takes his seat, and each receives 
his share. Soon as the rage of hunger 
was suppress'd, The generous Nestor 
thus the prince address'd.

 "Now bid thy heralds sound the loud 
alarms, And call the squadrons sheathed 
in brazen arms; Now seize the occasion, 
now the troops survey, And lead to war 
when heaven directs the way."

 He said; the monarch issued his 
commands; Straight the loud heralds 
call the gathering bands The chiefs 
inclose their king; the hosts divide, 
In tribes and nations rank'd on either 
side. High in the midst the blue-eyed 
virgin flies; From rank to rank she 
darts her ardent eyes; The dreadful 
aegis, Jove's immortal shield, Blazed 
on her arm, and lighten'd all the 
field: Round the vast orb a hundred 
serpents roll'd, Form'd the bright 
fringe, and seem'd to burn in gold, 
With this each Grecian's manly breast 
she warms, Swells their bold hearts, 
and strings their nervous arms, No more 
they sigh, inglorious, to return, But 
breathe revenge, and for the combat 
burn.

 As on some mountain, through the lofty 
grove, The crackling flames ascend, and 
blaze above; The fires expanding, as 
the winds arise, Shoot their long 
beams, and kindle half the skies: So 
from the polish'd arms, and brazen 
shields, A gleamy splendour flash'd 
along the fields. Not less their number 
than the embodied cranes, Or milk-white 
swans in Asius' watery plains. That, 
o'er the windings of Cayster's 
springs,(97) Stretch their long necks, 
and clap their rustling wings, Now 
tower aloft, and course in airy rounds, 
Now light with noise; with noise the 
field resounds. Thus numerous and 
confused, extending wide, The legions 
crowd Scamander's flowery side;(98) 
With rushing troops the plains are 
cover'd o'er, And thundering footsteps 
shake the sounding shore. Along the 
river's level meads they stand, Thick 
as in spring the flowers adorn the 
land, Or leaves the trees; or thick as 
insects play, The wandering nation of a 
summer's day: That, drawn by milky 
steams, at evening hours, In gather'd 
swarms surround the rural bowers; From 
pail to pail with busy murmur run The 
gilded legions, glittering in the sun. 
So throng'd, so close, the Grecian 
squadrons stood In radiant arms, and 
thirst for Trojan blood. Each leader 
now his scatter'd force conjoins In 
close array, and forms the deepening 
lines. Not with more ease the skilful 
shepherd-swain Collects his flocks from 
thousands on the plain. The king of 
kings, majestically tall, Towers o'er 
his armies, and outshines them all; 
Like some proud bull, that round the 
pastures leads His subject herds, the 
monarch of the meads, Great as the 
gods, the exalted chief was seen, His 
strength like Neptune, and like Mars 
his mien;(99) Jove o'er his eyes 
celestial glories spread, And dawning 
conquest played around his head.

 Say, virgins, seated round the throne 
divine, All-knowing goddesses! immortal 
nine!(100) Since earth's wide regions, 
heaven's umneasur'd height, And hell's 
abyss, hide nothing from your sight, 
(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts 
below, But guess by rumour, and but 
boast we know,) O say what heroes, 
fired by thirst of fame, Or urged by 
wrongs, to Troy's destruction came. To 
count them all, demands a thousand 
tongues, A throat of brass, and 
adamantine lungs. Daughters of Jove, 
assist! inspired by you The mighty 
labour dauntless I pursue; What crowded 
armies, from what climes they bring, 
Their names, their numbers, and their 
chiefs I sing.

 THE CATALOGUE OF THE SHIPS.

 

 NEPTUNE. 

 The hardy warriors whom Boeotia bred, 
Penelius, Leitus, Prothoenor, led: With 
these Arcesilaus and Clonius stand, 
Equal in arms, and equal in command. 
These head the troops that rocky Aulis 
yields, And Eteon's hills, and Hyrie's 
watery fields, And Schoenos, Scholos, 
Graea near the main, And Mycalessia's 
ample piny plain; Those who in Peteon 
or Ilesion dwell, Or Harma where 
Apollo's prophet fell; Heleon and Hyle, 
which the springs o'erflow; And Medeon 
lofty, and Ocalea low; Or in the meads 
of Haliartus stray, Or Thespia sacred 
to the god of day: Onchestus, Neptune's 
celebrated groves; Copae, and Thisbe, 
famed for silver doves; For flocks 
Erythrae, Glissa for the vine; Platea 
green, and Nysa the divine; And they 
whom Thebe's well-built walls inclose, 
Where Myde, Eutresis, Corone, rose; And 
Arne rich, with purple harvests 
crown'd; And Anthedon, Boeotia's utmost 
bound. Full fifty ships they send, and 
each conveys Twice sixty warriors 
through the foaming seas.(102)

 To these succeed Aspledon's martial 
train, Who plough the spacious 
Orchomenian plain. Two valiant brothers 
rule the undaunted throng, Ialmen and 
Ascalaphus the strong: Sons of 
Astyoche, the heavenly fair, Whose 
virgin charms subdued the god of war: 
(In Actor's court as she retired to 
rest, The strength of Mars the blushing 
maid compress'd) Their troops in thirty 
sable vessels sweep, With equal oars, 
the hoarse-resounding deep.

 The Phocians next in forty barks 
repair; Epistrophus and Schedius head 
the war: From those rich regions where 
Cephisus leads His silver current 
through the flowery meads; From 
Panopea, Chrysa the divine, Where 
Anemoria's stately turrets shine, Where 
Pytho, Daulis, Cyparissus stood, And 
fair Lilaea views the rising flood. 
These, ranged in order on the floating 
tide, Close, on the left, the bold 
Boeotians' side.

 Fierce Ajax led the Locrian squadrons 
on, Ajax the less, Oileus' valiant son; 
Skill'd to direct the flying dart 
aright; Swift in pursuit, and active in 
the fight. Him, as their chief, the 
chosen troops attend, Which Bessa, 
Thronus, and rich Cynos send; Opus, 
Calliarus, and Scarphe's bands; And 
those who dwell where pleasing Augia 
stands, And where Boagrius floats the 
lowly lands, Or in fair Tarphe's sylvan 
seats reside: In forty vessels cut the 
yielding tide.

 Euboea next her martial sons prepares, 
And sends the brave Abantes to the 
wars: Breathing revenge, in arms they 
take their way From Chalcis' walls, and 
strong Eretria; The Isteian fields for 
generous vines renown'd, The fair 
Caristos, and the Styrian ground; Where 
Dios from her towers o'erlooks the 
plain, And high Cerinthus views the 
neighbouring main. Down their broad 
shoulders falls a length of hair; Their 
hands dismiss not the long lance in 
air; But with protended spears in 
fighting fields Pierce the tough 
corslets and the brazen shields. Twice 
twenty ships transport the warlike 
bands, Which bold Elphenor, fierce in 
arms, commands.

 Full fifty more from Athens stem the 
main, Led by Menestheus through the 
liquid plain. (Athens the fair, where 
great Erectheus sway'd, That owed his 
nurture to the blue-eyed maid, But from 
the teeming furrow took his birth, The 
mighty offspring of the foodful earth. 
Him Pallas placed amidst her wealthy 
fane, Adored with sacrifice and oxen 
slain; Where, as the years revolve, her 
altars blaze, And all the tribes 
resound the goddess' praise.) No chief 
like thee, Menestheus! Greece could 
yield, To marshal armies in the dusty 
field, The extended wings of battle to 
display, Or close the embodied host in 
firm array. Nestor alone, improved by 
length of days, For martial conduct 
bore an equal praise.

 With these appear the Salaminian 
bands, Whom the gigantic Telamon 
commands; In twelve black ships to Troy 
they steer their course, And with the 
great Athenians join their force.

 Next move to war the generous Argive 
train, From high Troezene, and Maseta's 
plain, And fair Ćgina circled by the 
main: Whom strong Tyrinthe's lofty 
walls surround, And Epidaure with viny 
harvests crown'd: And where fair Asinen 
and Hermoin show Their cliffs above, 
and ample bay below. These by the brave 
Euryalus were led, Great Sthenelus, and 
greater Diomed; But chief Tydides bore 
the sovereign sway: In fourscore barks 
they plough the watery way.

 The proud Mycene arms her martial 
powers, Cleone, Corinth, with imperial 
towers,(103) Fair Araethyrea, Ornia's 
fruitful plain, And Ćgion, and 
Adrastus' ancient reign; And those who 
dwell along the sandy shore, And where 
Pellene yields her fleecy store, Where 
Helice and Hyperesia lie, And 
Gonoessa's spires salute the sky. Great 
Agamemnon rules the numerous band, A 
hundred vessels in long order stand, 
And crowded nations wait his dread 
command. High on the deck the king of 
men appears, And his refulgent arms in 
triumph wears; Proud of his host, 
unrivall'd in his reign, In silent pomp 
he moves along the main.

 His brother follows, and to vengeance 
warms The hardy Spartans, exercised in 
arms: Phares and Brysia's valiant 
troops, and those Whom Lacedaemon's 
lofty hills inclose; Or Messe's towers 
for silver doves renown'd, Amyclae, 
Laas, Augia's happy ground, And those 
whom OEtylos' low walls contain, And 
Helos, on the margin of the main: 
These, o'er the bending ocean, Helen's 
cause, In sixty ships with Menelaus 
draws: Eager and loud from man to man 
he flies, Revenge and fury flaming in 
his eyes; While vainly fond, in fancy 
oft he hears The fair one's grief, and 
sees her falling tears.

 In ninety sail, from Pylos' sandy 
coast, Nestor the sage conducts his 
chosen host: From Amphigenia's 
ever-fruitful land, Where Ćpy high, and 
little Pteleon stand; Where beauteous 
Arene her structures shows, And 
Thryon's walls Alpheus' streams 
inclose: And Dorion, famed for 
Thamyris' disgrace, Superior once of 
all the tuneful race, Till, vain of 
mortals' empty praise, he strove To 
match the seed of cloud-compelling 
Jove! Too daring bard! whose 
unsuccessful pride The immortal Muses 
in their art defied. The avenging Muses 
of the light of day Deprived his eyes, 
and snatch'd his voice away; No more 
his heavenly voice was heard to sing, 
His hand no more awaked the silver 
string.

 Where under high Cyllene, crown'd with 
wood, The shaded tomb of old Ćpytus 
stood; From Ripe, Stratie, Tegea's 
bordering towns, The Phenean fields, 
and Orchomenian downs, Where the fat 
herds in plenteous pasture rove; And 
Stymphelus with her surrounding grove; 
Parrhasia, on her snowy cliffs 
reclined, And high Enispe shook by 
wintry wind, And fair Mantinea's 
ever-pleasing site; In sixty sail the 
Arcadian bands unite. Bold Agapenor, 
glorious at their head, (Ancaeus' son) 
the mighty squadron led. Their ships, 
supplied by Agamemnon's care, Through 
roaring seas the wondering warriors 
bear; The first to battle on the 
appointed plain, But new to all the 
dangers of the main.

 Those, where fair Elis and Buprasium 
join; Whom Hyrmin, here, and Myrsinus 
confine, And bounded there, where o'er 
the valleys rose The Olenian rock; and 
where Alisium flows; Beneath four 
chiefs (a numerous army) came: The 
strength and glory of the Epean name. 
In separate squadrons these their train 
divide, Each leads ten vessels through 
the yielding tide. One was Amphimachus, 
and Thalpius one; (Eurytus' this, and 
that Teatus' son;) Diores sprung from 
Amarynceus' line; And great Polyxenus, 
of force divine.

 But those who view fair Elis o'er the 
seas From the blest islands of the 
Echinades, In forty vessels under Meges 
move, Begot by Phyleus, the beloved of 
Jove: To strong Dulichium from his sire 
he fled, And thence to Troy his hardy 
warriors led.

 Ulysses follow'd through the watery 
road, A chief, in wisdom equal to a 
god. With those whom Cephalenia's line 
inclosed, Or till their fields along 
the coast opposed; Or where fair Ithaca 
o'erlooks the floods, Where high 
Neritos shakes his waving woods, Where 
Ćgilipa's rugged sides are seen, 
Crocylia rocky, and Zacynthus green. 
These in twelve galleys with vermilion 
prores, Beneath his conduct sought the 
Phrygian shores.

 Thoas came next, Andraemon's valiant 
son, From Pleuron's walls, and chalky 
Calydon, And rough Pylene, and the 
Olenian steep, And Chalcis, beaten by 
the rolling deep. He led the warriors 
from the Ćtolian shore, For now the 
sons of OEneus were no more! The 
glories of the mighty race were fled! 
OEneus himself, and Meleager dead! To 
Thoas' care now trust the martial 
train, His forty vessels follow through 
the main.

 Next, eighty barks the Cretan king 
commands, Of Gnossus, Lyctus, and 
Gortyna's bands; And those who dwell 
where Rhytion's domes arise, Or white 
Lycastus glitters to the skies, Or 
where by Phaestus silver Jardan runs; 
Crete's hundred cities pour forth all 
her sons. These march'd, Idomeneus, 
beneath thy care, And Merion, dreadful 
as the god of war.

 Tlepolemus, the sun of Hercules, Led 
nine swift vessels through the foamy 
seas, From Rhodes, with everlasting 
sunshine bright, Jalyssus, Lindus, and 
Camirus white. His captive mother 
fierce Alcides bore From Ephyr's walls 
and Selle's winding shore, Where mighty 
towns in ruins spread the plain, And 
saw their blooming warriors early 
slain. The hero, when to manly years he 
grew, Alcides' uncle, old Licymnius, 
slew; For this, constrain'd to quit his 
native place, And shun the vengeance of 
the Herculean race, A fleet he built, 
and with a numerous train Of willing 
exiles wander'd o'er the main; Where, 
many seas and many sufferings past, On 
happy Rhodes the chief arrived at last: 
There in three tribes divides his 
native band, And rules them peaceful in 
a foreign land; Increased and prosper'd 
in their new abodes By mighty Jove, the 
sire of men and gods; With joy they saw 
the growing empire rise, And showers of 
wealth descending from the skies.

 Three ships with Nireus sought the 
Trojan shore, Nireus, whom Aglae to 
Charopus bore, Nireus, in faultless 
shape and blooming grace, The loveliest 
youth of all the Grecian race;(104) 
Pelides only match'd his early charms; 
But few his troops, and small his 
strength in arms.

 Next thirty galleys cleave the liquid 
plain, Of those Calydnae's sea-girt 
isles contain; With them the youth of 
Nisyrus repair, Casus the strong, and 
Crapathus the fair; Cos, where 
Eurypylus possess'd the sway, Till 
great Alcides made the realms obey: 
These Antiphus and bold Phidippus 
bring, Sprung from the god by Thessalus 
the king.

 Now, Muse, recount Pelasgic Argos' 
powers, From Alos, Alope, and Trechin's 
towers: From Phthia's spacious vales; 
and Hella, bless'd With female beauty 
far beyond the rest. Full fifty ships 
beneath Achilles' care, The Achaians, 
Myrmidons, Hellenians bear; Thessalians 
all, though various in their name; The 
same their nation, and their chief the 
same. But now inglorious, stretch'd 
along the shore, They hear the brazen 
voice of war no more; No more the foe 
they face in dire array: Close in his 
fleet the angry leader lay; Since fair 
Briseis from his arms was torn, The 
noblest spoil from sack'd Lyrnessus 
borne, Then, when the chief the Theban 
walls o'erthrew, And the bold sons of 
great Evenus slew. There mourn'd 
Achilles, plunged in depth of care, But 
soon to rise in slaughter, blood, and 
war.

 To these the youth of Phylace succeed, 
Itona, famous for her fleecy breed, And 
grassy Pteleon deck'd with cheerful 
greens, The bowers of Ceres, and the 
sylvan scenes. Sweet Pyrrhasus, with 
blooming flowerets crown'd, And 
Antron's watery dens, and cavern'd 
ground. These own'd, as chief, 
Protesilas the brave, Who now lay 
silent in the gloomy grave: The first 
who boldly touch'd the Trojan shore, 
And dyed a Phrygian lance with Grecian 
gore; There lies, far distant from his 
native plain; Unfinish'd his proud 
palaces remain, And his sad consort 
beats her breast in vain. His troops in 
forty ships Podarces led, Iphiclus' 
son, and brother to the dead; Nor he 
unworthy to command the host; Yet still 
they mourn'd their ancient leader lost.

 The men who Glaphyra's fair soil 
partake, Where hills incircle Boebe's 
lowly lake, Where Phaere hears the 
neighbouring waters fall, Or proud 
Iolcus lifts her airy wall, In ten 
black ships embark'd for Ilion's shore, 
With bold Eumelus, whom Alceste bore: 
All Pelias' race Alceste far outshined, 
The grace and glory of the beauteous 
kind,

 The troops Methone or Thaumacia 
yields, Olizon's rocks, or Meliboea's 
fields, With Philoctetes sail'd whose 
matchless art From the tough bow 
directs the feather'd dart. Seven were 
his ships; each vessel fifty row, 
Skill'd in his science of the dart and 
bow. But he lay raging on the Lemnian 
ground, A poisonous hydra gave the 
burning wound; There groan'd the chief 
in agonizing pain, Whom Greece at 
length shall wish, nor wish in vain. 
His forces Medon led from Lemnos' 
shore, Oileus' son, whom beauteous 
Rhena bore.

 The OEchalian race, in those high 
towers contain'd Where once Eurytus in 
proud triumph reign'd, Or where her 
humbler turrets Tricca rears, Or where 
Ithome, rough with rocks, appears, In 
thirty sail the sparkling waves divide, 
Which Podalirius and Machaon guide. To 
these his skill their parent-god 
imparts, Divine professors of the 
healing arts.

 The bold Ormenian and Asterian bands 
In forty barks Eurypylus commands. 
Where Titan hides his hoary head in 
snow, And where Hyperia's silver 
fountains flow. Thy troops, Argissa, 
Polypoetes leads, And Eleon, shelter'd 
by Olympus' shades, Gyrtone's warriors; 
and where Orthe lies, And Oloosson's 
chalky cliffs arise. Sprung from 
Pirithous of immortal race, The fruit 
of fair Hippodame's embrace, (That day, 
when hurl'd from Pelion's cloudy head, 
To distant dens the shaggy Centaurs 
fled) With Polypoetes join'd in equal 
sway Leonteus leads, and forty ships 
obey.

 In twenty sail the bold Perrhaebians 
came From Cyphus, Guneus was their 
leader's name. With these the Enians 
join'd, and those who freeze Where cold 
Dodona lifts her holy trees; Or where 
the pleasing Titaresius glides, And 
into Peneus rolls his easy tides; Yet 
o'er the silvery surface pure they 
flow, The sacred stream unmix'd with 
streams below, Sacred and awful! from 
the dark abodes Styx pours them forth, 
the dreadful oath of gods!

 Last, under Prothous the Magnesians 
stood, (Prothous the swift, of old 
Tenthredon's blood;) Who dwell where 
Pelion, crown'd with piny boughs, 
Obscures the glade, and nods his shaggy 
brows; Or where through flowery Tempe 
Peneus stray'd: (The region stretch'd 
beneath his mighty shade:) In forty 
sable barks they stemm'd the main; Such 
were the chiefs, and such the Grecian 
train.

 Say next, O Muse! of all Achaia 
breeds, Who bravest fought, or rein'd 
the noblest steeds? Eumelus' mares were 
foremost in the chase, As eagles fleet, 
and of Pheretian race; Bred where 
Pieria's fruitful fountains flow, And 
train'd by him who bears the silver 
bow. Fierce in the fight their nostrils 
breathed a flame, Their height, their 
colour, and their age the same; O'er 
fields of death they whirl the rapid 
car, And break the ranks, and thunder 
through the war. Ajax in arms the first 
renown acquired, While stern Achilles 
in his wrath retired: (His was the 
strength that mortal might exceeds, And 
his the unrivall'd race of heavenly 
steeds:) But Thetis' son now shines in 
arms no more; His troops, neglected on 
the sandy shore. In empty air their 
sportive javelins throw, Or whirl the 
disk, or bend an idle bow: Unstain'd 
with blood his cover'd chariots stand; 
The immortal coursers graze along the 
strand; But the brave chiefs the 
inglorious life deplored, And, 
wandering o'er the camp, required their 
lord.

 Now, like a deluge, covering all 
around, The shining armies sweep along 
the ground; Swift as a flood of fire, 
when storms arise, Floats the wild 
field, and blazes to the skies. Earth 
groan'd beneath them; as when angry 
Jove Hurls down the forky lightning 
from above, On Arime when he the 
thunder throws, And fires Typhoeus with 
redoubled blows, Where Typhon, press'd 
beneath the burning load, Still feels 
the fury of the avenging god.

 But various Iris, Jove's commands to 
bear, Speeds on the wings of winds 
through liquid air; In Priam's porch 
the Trojan chiefs she found, The old 
consulting, and the youths around. 
Polites' shape, the monarch's son, she 
chose, Who from Ćsetes' tomb observed 
the foes,(105) High on the mound; from 
whence in prospect lay The fields, the 
tents, the navy, and the bay. In this 
dissembled form, she hastes to bring 
The unwelcome message to the Phrygian 
king.

 "Cease to consult, the time for action 
calls; War, horrid war, approaches to 
your walls! Assembled armies oft have I 
beheld; But ne'er till now such numbers 
charged a field: Thick as autumnal 
leaves or driving sand, The moving 
squadrons blacken all the strand. Thou, 
godlike Hector! all thy force employ, 
Assemble all the united bands of Troy; 
In just array let every leader call The 
foreign troops: this day demands them 
all!"

 The voice divine the mighty chief 
alarms; The council breaks, the 
warriors rush to arms. The gates 
unfolding pour forth all their train, 
Nations on nations fill the dusky 
plain, Men, steeds, and chariots, shake 
the trembling ground: The tumult 
thickens, and the skies resound.

 Amidst the plain, in sight of Ilion, 
stands A rising mount, the work of 
human hands; (This for Myrinne's tomb 
the immortals know, Though call'd 
Bateia in the world below;) Beneath 
their chiefs in martial order here, The 
auxiliar troops and Trojan hosts appear.

 The godlike Hector, high above the 
rest, Shakes his huge spear, and nods 
his plumy crest: In throngs around his 
native bands repair, And groves of 
lances glitter in the air.

 Divine Ćneas brings the Dardan race, 
Anchises' son, by Venus' stolen 
embrace, Born in the shades of Ida's 
secret grove; (A mortal mixing with the 
queen of love;) Archilochus and Acamas 
divide The warrior's toils, and combat 
by his side.

 Who fair Zeleia's wealthy valleys 
till,(106) Fast by the foot of Ida's 
sacred hill, Or drink, Ćsepus, of thy 
sable flood, Were led by Pandarus, of 
royal blood; To whom his art Apollo 
deign'd to show, Graced with the 
presents of his shafts and bow.

 From rich Apaesus and Adrestia's 
towers, High Teree's summits, and 
Pityea's bowers; From these the 
congregated troops obey Young Amphius 
and Adrastus' equal sway; Old Merops' 
sons; whom, skill'd in fates to come, 
The sire forewarn'd, and prophesied 
their doom: Fate urged them on! the 
sire forewarn'd in vain, They rush'd to 
war, and perish'd on the plain.

 From Practius' stream, Percote's 
pasture lands, And Sestos and Abydos' 
neighbouring strands, From great 
Arisba's walls and Selle's coast, Asius 
Hyrtacides conducts his host: High on 
his car he shakes the flowing reins, 
His fiery coursers thunder o'er the 
plains.

 The fierce Pelasgi next, in war 
renown'd, March from Larissa's 
ever-fertile ground: In equal arms 
their brother leaders shine, Hippothous 
bold, and Pyleus the divine.

 Next Acamas and Pyrous lead their 
hosts, In dread array, from Thracia's 
wintry coasts; Round the bleak realms 
where Hellespontus roars, And Boreas 
beats the hoarse-resounding shores.

 With great Euphemus the Ciconians 
move, Sprung from Troezenian Ceus, 
loved by Jove.

 Pyraechmes the Paeonian troops attend, 
Skill'd in the fight their crooked bows 
to bend; From Axius' ample bed he leads 
them on, Axius, that laves the distant 
Amydon, Axius, that swells with all his 
neighbouring rills, And wide around the 
floating region fills.

 The Paphlagonians Pylaemenes rules, 
Where rich Henetia breeds her savage 
mules, Where Erythinus' rising cliffs 
are seen, Thy groves of box, Cytorus! 
ever green, And where Ćgialus and 
Cromna lie, And lofty Sesamus invades 
the sky, And where Parthenius, roll'd 
through banks of flowers, Reflects her 
bordering palaces and bowers.

 Here march'd in arms the Halizonian 
band, Whom Odius and Epistrophus 
command, From those far regions where 
the sun refines The ripening silver in 
Alybean mines.

 There mighty Chromis led the Mysian 
train, And augur Ennomus, inspired in 
vain; For stern Achilles lopp'd his 
sacred head, Roll'd down Scamander with 
the vulgar dead.

 Phorcys and brave Ascanius here unite 
The Ascanian Phrygians, eager for the 
fight.

 Of those who round Maeonia's realms 
reside, Or whom the vales in shades of 
Tmolus hide, Mestles and Antiphus the 
charge partake, Born on the banks of 
Gyges' silent lake. There, from the 
fields where wild Maeander flows, High 
Mycale, and Latmos' shady brows, And 
proud Miletus, came the Carian throngs, 
With mingled clamours and with 
barbarous tongues.(107) Amphimachus and 
Naustes guide the train, Naustes the 
bold, Amphimachus the vain, Who, 
trick'd with gold, and glittering on 
his car, Rode like a woman to the field 
of war. Fool that he was! by fierce 
Achilles slain, The river swept him to 
the briny main: There whelm'd with 
waves the gaudy warrior lies The 
valiant victor seized the golden prize.

 The forces last in fair array succeed, 
Which blameless Glaucus and Sarpedon 
lead The warlike bands that distant 
Lycia yields, Where gulfy Xanthus foams 
along the fields. 

 

BOOK III. 

ARGUMENT.

THE DUEL OF MENELAUS AND PARIS.

The armies being ready to engage, a 
single combat is agreed upon between 
Menelaus and Paris (by the intervention 
of Hector) for the determination of the 
war. Iris is sent to call Helen to 
behold the fight. She leads her to the 
walls of Troy, where Priam sat with his 
counsellers observing the Grecian 
leaders on the plain below, to whom 
Helen gives an account of the chief of 
them. The kings on either part take the 
solemn oath for the conditions of the 
combat. The duel ensues; wherein Paris 
being overcome, he is snatched away in 
a cloud by Venus, and transported to 
his apartment. She then calls Helen 
from the walls, and brings the lovers 
together. Agamemnon, on the part of the 
Grecians, demands the restoration of 
Helen, and the performance of the 
articles.

The three-and-twentieth day still 
continues throughout this book. The 
scene is sometimes in the fields before 
Troy, and sometimes in Troy itself.

 Thus by their leaders' care each 
martial band Moves into ranks, and 
stretches o'er the land. With shouts 
the Trojans, rushing from afar, 
Proclaim their motions, and provoke the 
war So when inclement winters vex the 
plain With piercing frosts, or 
thick-descending rain, To warmer seas 
the cranes embodied fly,(108) With 
noise, and order, through the midway 
sky; To pigmy nations wounds and death 
they bring, And all the war descends 
upon the wing, But silent, breathing 
rage, resolved and skill'd(109) By 
mutual aids to fix a doubtful field, 
Swift march the Greeks: the rapid dust 
around Darkening arises from the 
labour'd ground. Thus from his flaggy 
wings when Notus sheds A night of 
vapours round the mountain heads, 
Swift-gliding mists the dusky fields 
invade, To thieves more grateful than 
the midnight shade; While scarce the 
swains their feeding flocks survey, 
Lost and confused amidst the thicken'd 
day: So wrapp'd in gathering dust, the 
Grecian train, A moving cloud, swept 
on, and hid the plain.

 Now front to front the hostile armies 
stand, Eager of fight, and only wait 
command; When, to the van, before the 
sons of fame Whom Troy sent forth, the 
beauteous Paris came: In form a god! 
the panther's speckled hide Flow'd o'er 
his armour with an easy pride: His 
bended bow across his shoulders flung, 
His sword beside him negligently hung; 
Two pointed spears he shook with 
gallant grace, And dared the bravest of 
the Grecian race.

 As thus, with glorious air and proud 
disdain, He boldly stalk'd, the 
foremost on the plain, Him Menelaus, 
loved of Mars, espies, With heart 
elated, and with joyful eyes: So joys a 
lion, if the branching deer, Or 
mountain goat, his bulky prize, appear; 
Eager he seizes and devours the slain, 
Press'd by bold youths and baying dogs 
in vain. Thus fond of vengeance, with a 
furious bound, In clanging arms he 
leaps upon the ground From his high 
chariot: him, approaching near, The 
beauteous champion views with marks of 
fear, Smit with a conscious sense, 
retires behind, And shuns the fate he 
well deserved to find. As when some 
shepherd, from the rustling trees(110) 
Shot forth to view, a scaly serpent 
sees, Trembling and pale, he starts 
with wild affright And all confused 
precipitates his flight: So from the 
king the shining warrior flies, And 
plunged amid the thickest Trojans lies.

 As godlike Hector sees the prince 
retreat, He thus upbraids him with a 
generous heat: "Unhappy Paris! but to 
women brave!(111) So fairly form'd, and 
only to deceive! Oh, hadst thou died 
when first thou saw'st the light, Or 
died at least before thy nuptial rite! 
A better fate than vainly thus to 
boast, And fly, the scandal of thy 
Trojan host. Gods! how the scornful 
Greeks exult to see Their fears of 
danger undeceived in thee! Thy figure 
promised with a martial air, But ill 
thy soul supplies a form so fair. In 
former days, in all thy gallant pride, 
When thy tall ships triumphant stemm'd 
the tide, When Greece beheld thy 
painted canvas flow, And crowds stood 
wondering at the passing show, Say, was 
it thus, with such a baffled mien, You 
met the approaches of the Spartan 
queen, Thus from her realm convey'd the 
beauteous prize, And both her warlike 
lords outshined in Helen's eyes? This 
deed, thy foes' delight, thy own 
disgrace, Thy father's grief, and ruin 
of thy race; This deed recalls thee to 
the proffer'd fight; Or hast thou 
injured whom thou dar'st not right? 
Soon to thy cost the field would make 
thee know Thou keep'st the consort of a 
braver foe. Thy graceful form 
instilling soft desire, Thy curling 
tresses, and thy silver lyre, Beauty 
and youth; in vain to these you trust, 
When youth and beauty shall be laid in 
dust: Troy yet may wake, and one 
avenging blow Crush the dire author of 
his country's woe."

 His silence here, with blushes, Paris 
breaks: "'Tis just, my brother, what 
your anger speaks: But who like thee 
can boast a soul sedate, So firmly 
proof to all the shocks of fate? Thy 
force, like steel, a temper'd hardness 
shows, Still edged to wound, and still 
untired with blows, Like steel, 
uplifted by some strenuous swain, With 
falling woods to strew the wasted 
plain. Thy gifts I praise; nor thou 
despise the charms With which a lover 
golden Venus arms; Soft moving speech, 
and pleasing outward show, No wish can 
gain them, but the gods bestow. Yet, 
would'st thou have the proffer'd combat 
stand, The Greeks and Trojans seat on 
either hand; Then let a midway space 
our hosts divide, And, on that stage of 
war, the cause be tried: By Paris there 
the Spartan king be fought, For 
beauteous Helen and the wealth she 
brought; And who his rival can in arms 
subdue, His be the fair, and his the 
treasure too. Thus with a lasting 
league your toils may cease, And Troy 
possess her fertile fields in peace; 
Thus may the Greeks review their native 
shore, Much famed for generous steeds, 
for beauty more."

 He said. The challenge Hector heard 
with joy, Then with his spear 
restrain'd the youth of Troy, Held by 
the midst, athwart; and near the foe 
Advanced with steps majestically slow: 
While round his dauntless head the 
Grecians pour Their stones and arrows 
in a mingled shower.

 Then thus the monarch, great Atrides, 
cried: "Forbear, ye warriors! lay the 
darts aside: A parley Hector asks, a 
message bears; We know him by the 
various plume he wears." Awed by his 
high command the Greeks attend, The 
tumult silence, and the fight suspend.

 While from the centre Hector rolls his 
eyes On either host, and thus to both 
applies: "Hear, all ye Trojan, all ye 
Grecian bands, What Paris, author of 
the war, demands. Your shining swords 
within the sheath restrain, And pitch 
your lances in the yielding plain. Here 
in the midst, in either army's sight, 
He dares the Spartan king to single 
fight; And wills that Helen and the 
ravish'd spoil, That caused the 
contest, shall reward the toil. Let 
these the brave triumphant victor 
grace, And different nations part in 
leagues of peace."

 He spoke: in still suspense on either 
side Each army stood: the Spartan chief 
replied:

 "Me too, ye warriors, hear, whose 
fatal right A world engages in the 
toils of fight. To me the labour of the 
field resign; Me Paris injured; all the 
war be mine. Fall he that must, beneath 
his rival's arms; And live the rest, 
secure of future harms. Two lambs, 
devoted by your country's rite, To 
earth a sable, to the sun a white, 
Prepare, ye Trojans! while a third we 
bring Select to Jove, the inviolable 
king. Let reverend Priam in the truce 
engage, And add the sanction of 
considerate age; His sons are 
faithless, headlong in debate, And 
youth itself an empty wavering state; 
Cool age advances, venerably wise, 
Turns on all hands its deep-discerning 
eyes; Sees what befell, and what may 
yet befall, Concludes from both, and 
best provides for all.

 The nations hear with rising hopes 
possess'd, And peaceful prospects dawn 
in every breast. Within the lines they 
drew their steeds around, And from 
their chariots issued on the ground; 
Next, all unbuckling the rich mail they 
wore, Laid their bright arms along the 
sable shore. On either side the meeting 
hosts are seen With lances fix'd, and 
close the space between. Two heralds 
now, despatch'd to Troy, invite The 
Phrygian monarch to the peaceful rite.

 Talthybius hastens to the fleet, to 
bring The lamb for Jove, the inviolable 
king.

 Meantime to beauteous Helen, from the 
skies The various goddess of the 
rainbow flies: (Like fair Laodice in 
form and face, The loveliest nymph of 
Priam's royal race:) Her in the palace, 
at her loom she found; The golden web 
her own sad story crown'd, The Trojan 
wars she weaved (herself the prize) And 
the dire triumphs of her fatal eyes. To 
whom the goddess of the painted bow: 
"Approach, and view the wondrous scene 
below!(112) Each hardy Greek, and 
valiant Trojan knight, So dreadful 
late, and furious for the fight, Now 
rest their spears, or lean upon their 
shields; Ceased is the war, and silent 
all the fields. Paris alone and 
Sparta's king advance, In single fight 
to toss the beamy lance; Each met in 
arms, the fate of combat tries, Thy 
love the motive, and thy charms the 
prize."

 This said, the many-coloured maid 
inspires Her husband's love, and wakes 
her former fires; Her country, parents, 
all that once were dear, Rush to her 
thought, and force a tender tear, O'er 
her fair face a snowy veil she threw, 
And, softly sighing, from the loom 
withdrew. Her handmaids, Clymene and 
Ćthra, wait Her silent footsteps to the 
Scaean gate.

 There sat the seniors of the Trojan 
race: (Old Priam's chiefs, and most in 
Priam's grace,) The king the first; 
Thymoetes at his side; Lampus and 
Clytius, long in council tried; 
Panthus, and Hicetaon, once the strong; 
And next, the wisest of the reverend 
throng, Antenor grave, and sage 
Ucalegon, Lean'd on the walls and 
bask'd before the sun: Chiefs, who no 
more in bloody fights engage, But wise 
through time, and narrative with age, 
In summer days, like grasshoppers 
rejoice, A bloodless race, that send a 
feeble voice. These, when the Spartan 
queen approach'd the tower, In secret 
own'd resistless beauty's power: They 
cried, "No wonder such celestial 
charms(113) For nine long years have 
set the world in arms; What winning 
graces! what majestic mien! She moves a 
goddess, and she looks a queen! Yet 
hence, O Heaven, convey that fatal 
face, And from destruction save the 
Trojan race."

 The good old Priam welcomed her, and 
cried, "Approach, my child, and grace 
thy father's side. See on the plain thy 
Grecian spouse appears, The friends and 
kindred of thy former years. No crime 
of thine our present sufferings draws, 
Not thou, but Heaven's disposing will, 
the cause The gods these armies and 
this force employ, The hostile gods 
conspire the fate of Troy. But lift thy 
eyes, and say, what Greek is he (Far as 
from hence these aged orbs can see) 
Around whose brow such martial graces 
shine, So tall, so awful, and almost 
divine! Though some of larger stature 
tread the green, None match his 
grandeur and exalted mien: He seems a 
monarch, and his country's pride." Thus 
ceased the king, and thus the fair 
replied:

 "Before thy presence, father, I 
appear, With conscious shame and 
reverential fear. Ah! had I died, ere 
to these walk I fled, False to my 
country, and my nuptial bed; My 
brothers, friends, and daughter left 
behind, False to them all, to Paris 
only kind! For this I mourn, till grief 
or dire disease Shall waste the form 
whose fault it was to please! The king 
of kings, Atrides, you survey, Great in 
the war, and great in arts of sway: My 
brother once, before my days of shame! 
And oh! that still he bore a brother's 
name!"

 With wonder Priam view'd the godlike 
man, Extoll'd the happy prince, and 
thus began: "O bless'd Atrides! born to 
prosperous fate, Successful monarch of 
a mighty state! How vast thy empire! Of 
your matchless train What numbers lost, 
what numbers yet remain! In Phrygia 
once were gallant armies known, In 
ancient time, when Otreus fill'd the 
throne, When godlike Mygdon led their 
troops of horse, And I, to join them, 
raised the Trojan force: Against the 
manlike Amazons we stood,(114) And 
Sangar's stream ran purple with their 
blood. But far inferior those, in 
martial grace, And strength of numbers, 
to this Grecian race."

 This said, once more he view'd the 
warrior train; "What's he, whose arms 
lie scatter'd on the plain? Broad is 
his breast, his shoulders larger 
spread, Though great Atrides overtops 
his head. Nor yet appear his care and 
conduct small; From rank to rank he 
moves, and orders all. The stately ram 
thus measures o'er the ground, And, 
master of the flock, surveys them 
round."

 Then Helen thus: "Whom your discerning 
eyes Have singled out, is Ithacus the 
wise; A barren island boasts his 
glorious birth; His fame for wisdom 
fills the spacious earth."

 Antenor took the word, and thus 
began:(115) "Myself, O king! have seen 
that wondrous man When, trusting Jove 
and hospitable laws, To Troy he came, 
to plead the Grecian cause; (Great 
Menelaus urged the same request;) My 
house was honour'd with each royal 
guest: I knew their persons, and 
admired their parts, Both brave in 
arms, and both approved in arts. Erect, 
the Spartan most engaged our view; 
Ulysses seated, greater reverence drew. 
When Atreus' son harangued the 
listening train, Just was his sense, 
and his expression plain, His words 
succinct, yet full, without a fault; He 
spoke no more than just the thing he 
ought. But when Ulysses rose, in 
thought profound,(116) His modest eyes 
he fix'd upon the ground; As one 
unskill'd or dumb, he seem'd to stand, 
Nor raised his head, nor stretch'd his 
sceptred hand; But, when he speaks, 
what elocution flows! Soft as the 
fleeces of descending snows,(117) The 
copious accents fall, with easy art; 
Melting they fall, and sink into the 
heart! Wondering we hear, and fix'd in 
deep surprise, Our ears refute the 
censure of our eyes."

 The king then ask'd (as yet the camp 
he view'd) "What chief is that, with 
giant strength endued, Whose brawny 
shoulders, and whose swelling chest, 
And lofty stature, far exceed the rest? 
"Ajax the great, (the beauteous queen 
replied,) Himself a host: the Grecian 
strength and pride. See! bold Idomeneus 
superior towers Amid yon circle of his 
Cretan powers, Great as a god! I saw 
him once before, With Menelaus on the 
Spartan shore. The rest I know, and 
could in order name; All valiant 
chiefs, and men of mighty fame. Yet two 
are wanting of the numerous train, Whom 
long my eyes have sought, but sought in 
vain: Castor and Pollux, first in 
martial force, One bold on foot, and 
one renown'd for horse. My brothers 
these; the same our native shore, One 
house contain'd us, as one mother bore. 
Perhaps the chiefs, from warlike toils 
at ease, For distant Troy refused to 
sail the seas; Perhaps their swords 
some nobler quarrel draws, Ashamed to 
combat in their sister's cause."

 So spoke the fair, nor knew her 
brothers' doom;(118) Wrapt in the cold 
embraces of the tomb; Adorn'd with 
honours in their native shore, Silent 
they slept, and heard of wars no more.

 Meantime the heralds, through the 
crowded town. Bring the rich wine and 
destined victims down. Idaeus' arms the 
golden goblets press'd,(119) Who thus 
the venerable king address'd: "Arise, O 
father of the Trojan state! The nations 
call, thy joyful people wait To seal 
the truce, and end the dire debate. 
Paris, thy son, and Sparta's king 
advance, In measured lists to toss the 
weighty lance; And who his rival shall 
in arms subdue, His be the dame, and 
his the treasure too. Thus with a 
lasting league our toils may cease, And 
Troy possess her fertile fields in 
peace: So shall the Greeks review their 
native shore, Much famed for generous 
steeds, for beauty more."

 With grief he heard, and bade the 
chiefs prepare To join his milk-white 
coursers to the car; He mounts the 
seat, Antenor at his side; The gentle 
steeds through Scaea's gates they 
guide:(120) Next from the car 
descending on the plain, Amid the 
Grecian host and Trojan train, Slow 
they proceed: the sage Ulysses then 
Arose, and with him rose the king of 
men. On either side a sacred herald 
stands, The wine they mix, and on each 
monarch's hands Pour the full urn; then 
draws the Grecian lord His cutlass 
sheathed beside his ponderous sword; 
From the sign'd victims crops the 
curling hair;(121) The heralds part it, 
and the princes share; Then loudly thus 
before the attentive bands He calls the 
gods, and spreads his lifted hands:

 "O first and greatest power! whom all 
obey, Who high on Ida's holy mountain 
sway, Eternal Jove! and you bright orb 
that roll From east to west, and view 
from pole to pole! Thou mother Earth! 
and all ye living floods! Infernal 
furies, and Tartarean gods, Who rule 
the dead, and horrid woes prepare For 
perjured kings, and all who falsely 
swear! Hear, and be witness. If, by 
Paris slain, Great Menelaus press the 
fatal plain; The dame and treasures let 
the Trojan keep, And Greece returning 
plough the watery deep. If by my 
brother's lance the Trojan bleed, Be 
his the wealth and beauteous dame 
decreed: The appointed fine let Ilion 
justly pay, And every age record the 
signal day. This if the Phrygians shall 
refuse to yield, Arms must revenge, and 
Mars decide the field."

 With that the chief the tender victims 
slew, And in the dust their bleeding 
bodies threw; The vital spirit issued 
at the wound, And left the members 
quivering on the ground. From the same 
urn they drink the mingled wine, And 
add libations to the powers divine. 
While thus their prayers united mount 
the sky, "Hear, mighty Jove! and hear, 
ye gods on high! And may their blood, 
who first the league confound, Shed 
like this wine, disdain the thirsty 
ground; May all their consorts serve 
promiscuous lust, And all their lust be 
scatter'd as the dust!" Thus either 
host their imprecations join'd, Which 
Jove refused, and mingled with the wind.

 The rites now finish'd, reverend Priam 
rose, And thus express'd a heart 
o'ercharged with woes: "Ye Greeks and 
Trojans, let the chiefs engage, But 
spare the weakness of my feeble age: In 
yonder walls that object let me shun, 
Nor view the danger of so dear a son. 
Whose arms shall conquer and what 
prince shall fall, Heaven only knows; 
for heaven disposes all."

 This said, the hoary king no longer 
stay'd, But on his car the slaughter'd 
victims laid: Then seized the reins his 
gentle steeds to guide, And drove to 
Troy, Antenor at his side.

 Bold Hector and Ulysses now dispose 
The lists of combat, and the ground 
inclose: Next to decide, by sacred lots 
prepare, Who first shall launch his 
pointed spear in air. The people pray 
with elevated hands, And words like 
these are heard through all the bands: 
"Immortal Jove, high Heaven's superior 
lord, On lofty Ida's holy mount adored! 
Whoe'er involved us in this dire 
debate, O give that author of the war 
to fate And shades eternal! let 
division cease, And joyful nations join 
in leagues of peace."

 With eyes averted Hector hastes to 
turn The lots of fight and shakes the 
brazen urn. Then, Paris, thine leap'd 
forth; by fatal chance Ordain'd the 
first to whirl the weighty lance. Both 
armies sat the combat to survey. Beside 
each chief his azure armour lay, And 
round the lists the generous coursers 
neigh. The beauteous warrior now arrays 
for fight, In gilded arms magnificently 
bright: The purple cuishes clasp his 
thighs around, With flowers adorn'd, 
with silver buckles bound: Lycaon's 
corslet his fair body dress'd, Braced 
in and fitted to his softer breast; A 
radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder 
tied, Sustain'd the sword that 
glitter'd at his side: His youthful 
face a polish'd helm o'erspread; The 
waving horse-hair nodded on his head: 
His figured shield, a shining orb, he 
takes, And in his hand a pointed 
javelin shakes. With equal speed and 
fired by equal charms, The Spartan hero 
sheathes his limbs in arms.

 Now round the lists the admiring 
armies stand, With javelins fix'd, the 
Greek and Trojan band. Amidst the 
dreadful vale, the chiefs advance, All 
pale with rage, and shake the 
threatening lance. The Trojan first his 
shining javelin threw; Full on Atrides' 
ringing shield it flew, Nor pierced the 
brazen orb, but with a bound(122) 
Leap'd from the buckler, blunted, on 
the ground. Atrides then his massy 
lance prepares, In act to throw, but 
first prefers his prayers:

 "Give me, great Jove! to punish 
lawless lust, And lay the Trojan 
gasping in the dust: Destroy the 
aggressor, aid my righteous cause, 
Avenge the breach of hospitable laws! 
Let this example future times reclaim, 
And guard from wrong fair friendship's 
holy name." Be said, and poised in air 
the javelin sent, Through Paris' shield 
the forceful weapon went, His corslet 
pierces, and his garment rends, And 
glancing downward, near his flank 
descends. The wary Trojan, bending from 
the blow, Eludes the death, and 
disappoints his foe: But fierce Atrides 
waved his sword, and strook Full on his 
casque: the crested helmet shook; The 
brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand, 
Broke short: the fragments glitter'd on 
the sand. The raging warrior to the 
spacious skies Raised his upbraiding 
voice and angry eyes: "Then is it vain 
in Jove himself to trust? And is it 
thus the gods assist the just? When 
crimes provoke us, Heaven success 
denies; The dart falls harmless, and 
the falchion flies." Furious he said, 
and towards the Grecian crew (Seized by 
the crest) the unhappy warrior drew; 
Struggling he followed, while the 
embroider'd thong That tied his helmet, 
dragg'd the chief along. Then had his 
ruin crown'd Atrides' joy, But Venus 
trembled for the prince of Troy: Unseen 
she came, and burst the golden band; 
And left an empty helmet in his hand. 
The casque, enraged, amidst the Greeks 
he threw; The Greeks with smiles the 
polish'd trophy view. Then, as once 
more he lifts the deadly dart, In 
thirst of vengeance, at his rival's 
heart; The queen of love her favour'd 
champion shrouds (For gods can all 
things) in a veil of clouds. Raised 
from the field the panting youth she 
led, And gently laid him on the bridal 
bed, With pleasing sweets his fainting 
sense renews, And all the dome perfumes 
with heavenly dews. Meantime the 
brightest of the female kind, The 
matchless Helen, o'er the walls 
reclined; To her, beset with Trojan 
beauties, came, In borrow'd form, the 
laughter-loving dame. (She seem'd an 
ancient maid, well-skill'd to cull The 
snowy fleece, and wind the twisted 
wool.) The goddess softly shook her 
silken vest, That shed perfumes, and 
whispering thus address'd: 

 VENUS, DISGUISED, INVITING HELEN TO 
THE CHAMBER OF PARIS. 

 "Haste, happy nymph! for thee thy 
Paris calls, Safe from the fight, in 
yonder lofty walls, Fair as a god; with 
odours round him spread, He lies, and 
waits thee on the well-known bed; Not 
like a warrior parted from the foe, But 
some gay dancer in the public show."

 She spoke, and Helen's secret soul was 
moved; She scorn'd the champion, but 
the man she loved. Fair Venus' neck, 
her eyes that sparkled fire, And 
breast, reveal'd the queen of soft 
desire.(123) Struck with her presence, 
straight the lively red Forsook her 
cheek; and trembling, thus she said: 
"Then is it still thy pleasure to 
deceive? And woman's frailty always to 
believe! Say, to new nations must I 
cross the main, Or carry wars to some 
soft Asian plain? For whom must Helen 
break her second vow? What other Paris 
is thy darling now? Left to Atrides, 
(victor in the strife,) An odious 
conquest and a captive wife, Hence let 
me sail; and if thy Paris bear My 
absence ill, let Venus ease his care. A 
handmaid goddess at his side to wait, 
Renounce the glories of thy heavenly 
state, Be fix'd for ever to the Trojan 
shore, His spouse, or slave; and mount 
the skies no more. For me, to lawless 
love no longer led, I scorn the coward, 
and detest his bed; Else should I merit 
everlasting shame, And keen reproach, 
from every Phrygian dame: Ill suits it 
now the joys of love to know, Too deep 
my anguish, and too wild my woe." 

 VENUS PRESENTING HELEN TO PARIS. 

 Then thus incensed, the Paphian queen 
replies: "Obey the power from whom thy 
glories rise: Should Venus leave thee, 
every charm must fly, Fade from thy 
cheek, and languish in thy eye. Cease 
to provoke me, lest I make thee more 
The world's aversion, than their love 
before; Now the bright prize for which 
mankind engage, Than, the sad victim, 
of the public rage."

 At this, the fairest of her sex 
obey'd, And veil'd her blushes in a 
silken shade; Unseen, and silent, from 
the train she moves, Led by the goddess 
of the Smiles and Loves. Arrived, and 
enter'd at the palace gate, The maids 
officious round their mistress wait; 
Then, all dispersing, various tasks 
attend; The queen and goddess to the 
prince ascend. Full in her Paris' 
sight, the queen of love Had placed the 
beauteous progeny of Jove; Where, as he 
view'd her charms, she turn'd away Her 
glowing eyes, and thus began to say:

 "Is this the chief, who, lost to sense 
of shame, Late fled the field, and yet 
survives his fame? O hadst thou died 
beneath the righteous sword Of that 
brave man whom once I call'd my lord! 
The boaster Paris oft desired the day 
With Sparta's king to meet in single 
fray: Go now, once more thy rival's 
rage excite, Provoke Atrides, and renew 
the fight: Yet Helen bids thee stay, 
lest thou unskill'd Shouldst fall an 
easy conquest on the field."

 The prince replies: "Ah cease, 
divinely fair, Nor add reproaches to 
the wounds I bear; This day the foe 
prevail'd by Pallas' power: We yet may 
vanquish in a happier hour: There want 
not gods to favour us above; But let 
the business of our life be love: These 
softer moments let delights employ, And 
kind embraces snatch the hasty joy. Not 
thus I loved thee, when from Sparta's 
shore My forced, my willing heavenly 
prize I bore, When first entranced in 
Cranae's isle I lay,(124) Mix'd with 
thy soul, and all dissolved away!" Thus 
having spoke, the enamour'd Phrygian 
boy Rush'd to the bed, impatient for 
the joy. Him Helen follow'd slow with 
bashful charms, And clasp'd the 
blooming hero in her arms.

 While these to love's delicious 
rapture yield, The stern Atrides rages 
round the field: So some fell lion whom 
the woods obey, Roars through the 
desert, and demands his prey. Paris he 
seeks, impatient to destroy, But seeks 
in vain along the troops of Troy; Even 
those had yielded to a foe so brave The 
recreant warrior, hateful as the grave. 
Then speaking thus, the king of kings 
arose, "Ye Trojans, Dardans, all our 
generous foes! Hear and attest! from 
Heaven with conquest crown'd, Our 
brother's arms the just success have 
found: Be therefore now the Spartan 
wealth restor'd, Let Argive Helen own 
her lawful lord; The appointed fine let 
Ilion justly pay, And age to age record 
this signal day."

 He ceased; his army's loud applauses 
rise, And the long shout runs echoing 
through the skies.

 VENUS. 

 BOOK IV. 

ARGUMENT.

THE BREACH OF THE TRUCE, AND THE FIRST 
BATTLE.

The gods deliberate in council 
concerning the Trojan war: they agree 
upon the continuation of it, and 
Jupiter sends down Minerva to break the 
truce. She persuades Pandarus to aim an 
arrow at Menelaus, who is wounded, but 
cured by Machaon. In the meantime some 
of the Trojan troops attack the Greeks. 
Agamemnon is distinguished in all the 
parts of a good general; he reviews the 
troops, and exhorts the leaders, some 
by praises and others by reproof. 
Nestor is particularly celebrated for 
his military discipline. The battle 
joins, and great numbers are slain on 
both sides.

The same day continues through this as 
through the last book (as it does also 
through the two following, and almost 
to the end of the seventh book). The 
scene is wholly in the field before 
Troy.

 And now Olympus' shining gates unfold; 
The gods, with Jove, assume their 
thrones of gold: Immortal Hebe, fresh 
with bloom divine, The golden goblet 
crowns with purple wine: While the full 
bowls flow round, the powers employ 
Their careful eyes on long-contended 
Troy.

 When Jove, disposed to tempt 
Saturnia's spleen, Thus waked the fury 
of his partial queen, "Two powers 
divine the son of Atreus aid, Imperial 
Juno, and the martial maid;(125) But 
high in heaven they sit, and gaze from 
far, The tame spectators of his deeds 
of war. Not thus fair Venus helps her 
favour'd knight, The queen of pleasures 
shares the toils of fight, Each danger 
wards, and constant in her care, Saves 
in the moment of the last despair. Her 
act has rescued Paris' forfeit life, 
Though great Atrides gain'd the 
glorious strife. Then say, ye powers! 
what signal issue waits To crown this 
deed, and finish all the fates! Shall 
Heaven by peace the bleeding kingdoms 
spare, Or rouse the furies, and awake 
the war? Yet, would the gods for human 
good provide, Atrides soon might gain 
his beauteous bride, Still Priam's 
walls in peaceful honours grow, And 
through his gates the crowding nations 
flow."

 Thus while he spoke, the queen of 
heaven, enraged, And queen of war, in 
close consult engaged: Apart they sit, 
their deep designs employ, And meditate 
the future woes of Troy. Though secret 
anger swell'd Minerva's breast, The 
prudent goddess yet her wrath 
suppress'd; But Juno, impotent of 
passion, broke Her sullen silence, and 
with fury spoke: 

 THE COUNCIL OF THE GODS. 

 "Shall then, O tyrant of the ethereal 
reign! My schemes, my labours, and my 
hopes be vain? Have I, for this, shook 
Ilion with alarms, Assembled nations, 
set two worlds in arms? To spread the 
war, I flew from shore to shore; The 
immortal coursers scarce the labour 
bore. At length ripe vengeance o'er 
their heads impends, But Jove himself 
the faithless race defends. Loth as 
thou art to punish lawless lust, Not 
all the gods are partial and unjust."

 The sire whose thunder shakes the 
cloudy skies, Sighs from his inmost 
soul, and thus replies: "Oh lasting 
rancour! oh insatiate hate To Phrygia's 
monarch, and the Phrygian state! What 
high offence has fired the wife of 
Jove? Can wretched mortals harm the 
powers above, That Troy, and Troy's 
whole race thou wouldst confound, And 
yon fair structures level with the 
ground! Haste, leave the skies, fulfil 
thy stern desire, Burst all her gates, 
and wrap her walls in fire! Let Priam 
bleed! if yet you thirst for more, 
Bleed all his sons, and Ilion float 
with gore: To boundless vengeance the 
wide realm be given, Till vast 
destruction glut the queen of heaven! 
So let it be, and Jove his peace 
enjoy,(126) When heaven no longer hears 
the name of Troy. But should this arm 
prepare to wreak our hate On thy loved 
realms, whose guilt demands their fate; 
Presume not thou the lifted bolt to 
stay, Remember Troy, and give the 
vengeance way. For know, of all the 
numerous towns that rise Beneath the 
rolling sun and starry skies, Which 
gods have raised, or earth-born men 
enjoy, None stands so dear to Jove as 
sacred Troy. No mortals merit more 
distinguish'd grace Than godlike Priam, 
or than Priam's race. Still to our name 
their hecatombs expire, And altars 
blaze with unextinguish'd fire."

 At this the goddess rolled her radiant 
eyes, Then on the Thunderer fix'd them, 
and replies: "Three towns are Juno's on 
the Grecian plains, More dear than all 
the extended earth contains, Mycenae, 
Argos, and the Spartan wall;(127)

 These thou mayst raze, nor I forbid 
their fall: 'Tis not in me the 
vengeance to remove; The crime's 
sufficient that they share my love. Of 
power superior why should I complain? 
Resent I may, but must resent in vain. 
Yet some distinction Juno might 
require, Sprung with thyself from one 
celestial sire, A goddess born, to 
share the realms above, And styled the 
consort of the thundering Jove; Nor 
thou a wife and sister's right 
deny;(128) Let both consent, and both 
by terms comply; So shall the gods our 
joint decrees obey, And heaven shall 
act as we direct the way. See ready 
Pallas waits thy high commands To raise 
in arms the Greek and Phrygian bands; 
Their sudden friendship by her arts may 
cease, And the proud Trojans first 
infringe the peace."

 The sire of men and monarch of the sky 
The advice approved, and bade Minerva 
fly, Dissolve the league, and all her 
arts employ To make the breach the 
faithless act of Troy. Fired with the 
charge, she headlong urged her flight, 
And shot like lightning from Olympus' 
height. As the red comet, from 
Saturnius sent To fright the nations 
with a dire portent, (A fatal sign to 
armies on the plain, Or trembling 
sailors on the wintry main,) With 
sweeping glories glides along in air, 
And shakes the sparkles from its 
blazing hair:(129) Between both armies 
thus, in open sight Shot the bright 
goddess in a trail of light, With eyes 
erect the gazing hosts admire The power 
descending, and the heavens on fire! 
"The gods (they cried), the gods this 
signal sent, And fate now labours with 
some vast event: Jove seals the league, 
or bloodier scenes prepares; Jove, the 
great arbiter of peace and wars."

 They said, while Pallas through the 
Trojan throng, (In shape a mortal,) 
pass'd disguised along. Like bold 
Laodocus, her course she bent, Who from 
Antenor traced his high descent. Amidst 
the ranks Lycaon's son she found, The 
warlike Pandarus, for strength 
renown'd; Whose squadrons, led from 
black Ćsepus' flood,(130) With flaming 
shields in martial circle stood. To him 
the goddess: "Phrygian! canst thou hear 
A well-timed counsel with a willing 
ear? What praise were thine, couldst 
thou direct thy dart, Amidst his 
triumph, to the Spartan's heart? What 
gifts from Troy, from Paris wouldst 
thou gain, Thy country's foe, the 
Grecian glory slain? Then seize the 
occasion, dare the mighty deed, Aim at 
his breast, and may that aim succeed! 
But first, to speed the shaft, address 
thy vow To Lycian Phoebus with the 
silver bow, And swear the firstlings of 
thy flock to pay, On Zelia's altars, to 
the god of day."(131)

 He heard, and madly at the motion 
pleased, His polish'd bow with hasty 
rashness seized. 'Twas form'd of horn, 
and smooth'd with artful toil: A 
mountain goat resign'd the shining 
spoil. Who pierced long since beneath 
his arrows bled; The stately quarry on 
the cliffs lay dead, And sixteen palms 
his brow's large honours spread: The 
workmen join'd, and shaped the bended 
horns, And beaten gold each taper point 
adorns. This, by the Greeks unseen, the 
warrior bends, Screen'd by the shields 
of his surrounding friends: There 
meditates the mark; and couching low, 
Fits the sharp arrow to the well-strung 
bow. One from a hundred feather'd 
deaths he chose, Fated to wound, and 
cause of future woes; Then offers vows 
with hecatombs to crown Apollo's altars 
in his native town.

 Now with full force the yielding horn 
he bends, Drawn to an arch, and joins 
the doubling ends; Close to his breast 
he strains the nerve below, Till the 
barb'd points approach the circling 
bow; The impatient weapon whizzes on 
the wing; Sounds the tough horn, and 
twangs the quivering string.

 But thee, Atrides! in that dangerous 
hour The gods forget not, nor thy 
guardian power, Pallas assists, and 
(weakened in its force) Diverts the 
weapon from its destined course: So 
from her babe, when slumber seals his 
eye, The watchful mother wafts the 
envenom'd fly. Just where his belt with 
golden buckles join'd, Where linen 
folds the double corslet lined, She 
turn'd the shaft, which, hissing from 
above, Pass'd the broad belt, and 
through the corslet drove; The folds it 
pierced, the plaited linen tore, And 
razed the skin, and drew the purple 
gore. As when some stately trappings 
are decreed To grace a monarch on his 
bounding steed, A nymph in Caria or 
Maeonia bred, Stains the pure ivory 
with a lively red; With equal lustre 
various colours vie, The shining 
whiteness, and the Tyrian dye: So great 
Atrides! show'd thy sacred blood, As 
down thy snowy thigh distill'd the 
streaming flood. With horror seized, 
the king of men descried The shaft 
infix'd, and saw the gushing tide: Nor 
less the Spartan fear'd, before he 
found The shining barb appear above the 
wound, Then, with a sigh, that heaved 
his manly breast, The royal brother 
thus his grief express'd, And grasp'd 
his hand; while all the Greeks around 
With answering sighs return'd the 
plaintive sound.

 "Oh, dear as life! did I for this 
agree The solemn truce, a fatal truce 
to thee! Wert thou exposed to all the 
hostile train, To fight for Greece, and 
conquer, to be slain! The race of 
Trojans in thy ruin join, And faith is 
scorn'd by all the perjured line. Not 
thus our vows, confirm'd with wine and 
gore, Those hands we plighted, and 
those oaths we swore, Shall all be 
vain: when Heaven's revenge is slow, 
Jove but prepares to strike the fiercer 
blow. The day shall come, that great 
avenging day, When Troy's proud glories 
in the dust shall lay, When Priam's 
powers and Priam's self shall fall, And 
one prodigious ruin swallow all. I see 
the god, already, from the pole Bare 
his red arm, and bid the thunder roll; 
I see the Eternal all his fury shed, 
And shake his aegis o'er their guilty 
head. Such mighty woes on perjured 
princes wait; But thou, alas! deserv'st 
a happier fate. Still must I mourn the 
period of thy days, And only mourn, 
without my share of praise? Deprived of 
thee, the heartless Greeks no more 
Shall dream of conquests on the hostile 
shore; Troy seized of Helen, and our 
glory lost, Thy bones shall moulder on 
a foreign coast; While some proud 
Trojan thus insulting cries, (And 
spurns the dust where Menelaus lies,) 
'Such are the trophies Greece from 
Ilion brings, And such the conquest of 
her king of kings! Lo his proud vessels 
scatter'd o'er the main, And 
unrevenged, his mighty brother slain.' 
Oh! ere that dire disgrace shall blast 
my fame, O'erwhelm me, earth! and hide 
a monarch's shame."

 He said: a leader's and a brother's 
fears Possess his soul, which thus the 
Spartan cheers: "Let not thy words the 
warmth of Greece abate; The feeble dart 
is guiltless of my fate: Stiff with the 
rich embroider'd work around, My varied 
belt repell'd the flying wound."

 To whom the king: "My brother and my 
friend, Thus, always thus, may Heaven 
thy life defend! Now seek some skilful 
hand, whose powerful art May stanch the 
effusion, and extract the dart. Herald, 
be swift, and bid Machaon bring His 
speedy succour to the Spartan king; 
Pierced with a winged shaft (the deed 
of Troy), The Grecian's sorrow, and the 
Dardan's joy."

 With hasty zeal the swift Talthybius 
flies; Through the thick files he darts 
his searching eyes, And finds Machaon, 
where sublime he stands(132) In arms 
incircled with his native bands. Then 
thus: "Machaon, to the king repair, His 
wounded brother claims thy timely care; 
Pierced by some Lycian or Dardanian 
bow, A grief to us, a triumph to the 
foe."

 The heavy tidings grieved the godlike 
man Swift to his succour through the 
ranks he ran. The dauntless king yet 
standing firm he found, And all the 
chiefs in deep concern around. Where to 
the steely point the reed was join'd, 
The shaft he drew, but left the head 
behind. Straight the broad belt with 
gay embroidery graced, He loosed; the 
corslet from his breast unbraced; Then 
suck'd the blood, and sovereign balm 
infused,(133) Which Chiron gave, and 
Ćsculapius used.

 While round the prince the Greeks 
employ their care, The Trojans rush 
tumultuous to the war; Once more they 
glitter in refulgent arms, Once more 
the fields are fill'd with dire alarms. 
Nor had you seen the king of men appear 
Confused, unactive, or surprised with 
fear; But fond of glory, with severe 
delight, His beating bosom claim'd the 
rising fight. No longer with his 
warlike steeds he stay'd, Or press'd 
the car with polish'd brass inlaid But 
left Eurymedon the reins to guide; The 
fiery coursers snorted at his side. On 
foot through all the martial ranks he 
moves And these encourages, and those 
reproves. "Brave men!" he cries, (to 
such who boldly dare Urge their swift 
steeds to face the coming war), "Your 
ancient valour on the foes approve; 
Jove is with Greece, and let us trust 
in Jove. 'Tis not for us, but guilty 
Troy, to dread, Whose crimes sit heavy 
on her perjured head; Her sons and 
matrons Greece shall lead in chains, 
And her dead warriors strew the 
mournful plains."

 Thus with new ardour he the brave 
inspires; Or thus the fearful with 
reproaches fires: "Shame to your 
country, scandal of your kind; Born to 
the fate ye well deserve to find! Why 
stand ye gazing round the dreadful 
plain, Prepared for flight, but doom'd 
to fly in vain? Confused and panting 
thus, the hunted deer Falls as he 
flies, a victim to his fear. Still must 
ye wait the foes, and still retire, 
Till yon tall vessels blaze with Trojan 
fire? Or trust ye, Jove a valiant foe 
shall chase, To save a trembling, 
heartless, dastard race?"

 This said, he stalk'd with ample 
strides along, To Crete's brave monarch 
and his martial throng; High at their 
head he saw the chief appear, And bold 
Meriones excite the rear. At this the 
king his generous joy express'd, And 
clasp'd the warrior to his armed 
breast. "Divine Idomeneus! what thanks 
we owe To worth like thine! what praise 
shall we bestow? To thee the foremost 
honours are decreed, First in the fight 
and every graceful deed. For this, in 
banquets, when the generous bowls 
Restore our blood, and raise the 
warriors' souls, Though all the rest 
with stated rules we bound, Unmix'd, 
unmeasured, are thy goblets crown'd. Be 
still thyself, in arms a mighty name; 
Maintain thy honours, and enlarge thy 
fame." To whom the Cretan thus his 
speech address'd: "Secure of me, O 
king! exhort the rest. Fix'd to thy 
side, in every toil I share, Thy firm 
associate in the day of war. But let 
the signal be this moment given; To mix 
in fight is all I ask of Heaven. The 
field shall prove how perjuries 
succeed, And chains or death avenge the 
impious deed."

 Charm'd with this heat, the king his 
course pursues, And next the troops of 
either Ajax views: In one firm orb the 
bands were ranged around, A cloud of 
heroes blacken'd all the ground. Thus 
from the lofty promontory's brow A 
swain surveys the gathering storm 
below; Slow from the main the heavy 
vapours rise, Spread in dim streams, 
and sail along the skies, Till black as 
night the swelling tempest shows, The 
cloud condensing as the west-wind 
blows: He dreads the impending storm, 
and drives his flock To the close 
covert of an arching rock.

 Such, and so thick, the embattled 
squadrons stood, With spears erect, a 
moving iron wood: A shady light was 
shot from glimmering shields, And their 
brown arms obscured the dusky fields.

 "O heroes! worthy such a dauntless 
train, Whose godlike virtue we but urge 
in vain, (Exclaim'd the king), who 
raise your eager bands With great 
examples, more than loud commands. Ah! 
would the gods but breathe in all the 
rest Such souls as burn in your exalted 
breast, Soon should our arms with just 
success be crown'd, And Troy's proud 
walls lie smoking on the ground."

 Then to the next the general bends his 
course; (His heart exults, and glories 
in his force); There reverend Nestor 
ranks his Pylian bands, And with 
inspiring eloquence commands; With 
strictest order sets his train in arms, 
The chiefs advises, and the soldiers 
warms. Alastor, Chromius, Haemon, round 
him wait, Bias the good, and Pelagon 
the great. The horse and chariots to 
the front assign'd, The foot (the 
strength of war) he ranged behind; The 
middle space suspected troops supply, 
Inclosed by both, nor left the power to 
fly; He gives command to "curb the 
fiery steed, Nor cause confusion, nor 
the ranks exceed: Before the rest let 
none too rashly ride; No strength nor 
skill, but just in time, be tried: The 
charge once made, no warrior turn the 
rein, But fight, or fall; a firm 
embodied train. He whom the fortune of 
the field shall cast From forth his 
chariot, mount the next in haste; Nor 
seek unpractised to direct the car, 
Content with javelins to provoke the 
war. Our great forefathers held this 
prudent course, Thus ruled their 
ardour, thus preserved their force; By 
laws like these immortal conquests 
made, And earth's proud tyrants low in 
ashes laid."

 So spoke the master of the martial 
art, And touch'd with transport great 
Atrides' heart. "Oh! hadst thou 
strength to match thy brave desires, 
And nerves to second what thy soul 
inspires! But wasting years, that 
wither human race, Exhaust thy spirits, 
and thy arms unbrace. What once thou 
wert, oh ever mightst thou be! And age 
the lot of any chief but thee."

 Thus to the experienced prince Atrides 
cried; He shook his hoary locks, and 
thus replied: "Well might I wish, could 
mortal wish renew(134) That strength 
which once in boiling youth I knew; 
Such as I was, when Ereuthalion, slain 
Beneath this arm, fell prostrate on the 
plain. But heaven its gifts not all at 
once bestows, These years with wisdom 
crowns, with action those: The field of 
combat fits the young and bold, The 
solemn council best becomes the old: To 
you the glorious conflict I resign, Let 
sage advice, the palm of age, be mine."

 He said. With joy the monarch march'd 
before, And found Menestheus on the 
dusty shore, With whom the firm 
Athenian phalanx stands; And next 
Ulysses, with his subject bands. Remote 
their forces lay, nor knew so far The 
peace infringed, nor heard the sounds 
of war; The tumult late begun, they 
stood intent To watch the motion, 
dubious of the event. The king, who saw 
their squadrons yet unmoved, With hasty 
ardour thus the chiefs reproved:

 "Can Peleus' son forget a warrior's 
part. And fears Ulysses, skill'd in 
every art? Why stand you distant, and 
the rest expect To mix in combat which 
yourselves neglect? From you 'twas 
hoped among the first to dare The shock 
of armies, and commence the war; For 
this your names are call'd before the 
rest, To share the pleasures of the 
genial feast: And can you, chiefs! 
without a blush survey Whole troops 
before you labouring in the fray? Say, 
is it thus those honours you requite? 
The first in banquets, but the last in 
fight."

 Ulysses heard: the hero's warmth 
o'erspread His cheek with blushes: and 
severe, he said: "Take back the unjust 
reproach! Behold we stand Sheathed in 
bright arms, and but expect command. If 
glorious deeds afford thy soul delight, 
Behold me plunging in the thickest 
fight. Then give thy warrior-chief a 
warrior's due, Who dares to act 
whate'er thou dar'st to view." Struck 
with his generous wrath, the king 
replies:

 "O great in action, and in council 
wise! With ours, thy care and ardour 
are the same, Nor need I to commend, 
nor aught to blame. Sage as thou art, 
and learn'd in human kind, Forgive the 
transport of a martial mind. Haste to 
the fight, secure of just amends; The 
gods that make, shall keep the worthy, 
friends."

 He said, and pass'd where great 
Tydides lay, His steeds and chariots 
wedged in firm array; (The warlike 
Sthenelus attends his side;)(135) To 
whom with stern reproach the monarch 
cried: "O son of Tydeus! (he, whose 
strength could tame The bounding steed, 
in arms a mighty name) Canst thou, 
remote, the mingling hosts descry, With 
hands unactive, and a careless eye? Not 
thus thy sire the fierce encounter 
fear'd; Still first in front the 
matchless prince appear'd: What 
glorious toils, what wonders they 
recite, Who view'd him labouring 
through the ranks of fight? I saw him 
once, when gathering martial powers, A 
peaceful guest, he sought Mycenae's 
towers; Armies he ask'd, and armies had 
been given, Not we denied, but Jove 
forbade from heaven; While dreadful 
comets glaring from afar, Forewarn'd 
the horrors of the Theban war.(136) 
Next, sent by Greece from where Asopus 
flows, A fearless envoy, he approach'd 
the foes; Thebes' hostile walls 
unguarded and alone, Dauntless he 
enters, and demands the throne. The 
tyrant feasting with his chiefs he 
found, And dared to combat all those 
chiefs around: Dared, and subdued 
before their haughty lord; For Pallas 
strung his arm and edged his sword. 
Stung with the shame, within the 
winding way, To bar his passage fifty 
warriors lay; Two heroes led the secret 
squadron on, Mason the fierce, and 
hardy Lycophon; Those fifty slaughter'd 
in the gloomy vale. He spared but one 
to bear the dreadful tale, Such Tydeus 
was, and such his martial fire; Gods! 
how the son degenerates from the sire!"

 No words the godlike Diomed return'd, 
But heard respectful, and in secret 
burn'd: Not so fierce Capaneus' 
undaunted son; Stern as his sire, the 
boaster thus begun:

 "What needs, O monarch! this invidious 
praise, Ourselves to lessen, while our 
sire you raise? Dare to be just, 
Atrides! and confess Our value equal, 
though our fury less. With fewer troops 
we storm'd the Theban wall, And happier 
saw the sevenfold city fall,(137) In 
impious acts the guilty father died; 
The sons subdued, for Heaven was on 
their side. Far more than heirs of all 
our parents' fame, Our glories darken 
their diminish'd name."

 To him Tydides thus: "My friend, 
forbear; Suppress thy passion, and the 
king revere: His high concern may well 
excuse this rage, Whose cause we 
follow, and whose war we wage: His the 
first praise, were Ilion's towers 
o'erthrown, And, if we fail, the chief 
disgrace his own. Let him the Greeks to 
hardy toils excite, 'Tis ours to labour 
in the glorious fight."

 He spoke, and ardent, on the trembling 
ground Sprung from his car: his ringing 
arms resound. Dire was the clang, and 
dreadful from afar, Of arm'd Tydides 
rushing to the war. As when the winds, 
ascending by degrees,(138) First move 
the whitening surface of the seas, The 
billows float in order to the shore, 
The wave behind rolls on the wave 
before; Till, with the growing storm, 
the deeps arise, Foam o'er the rocks, 
and thunder to the skies. So to the 
fight the thick battalions throng, 
Shields urged on shields, and men drove 
men along Sedate and silent move the 
numerous bands; No sound, no whisper, 
but the chief's commands, Those only 
heard; with awe the rest obey, As if 
some god had snatch'd their voice away. 
Not so the Trojans; from their host 
ascends A general shout that all the 
region rends. As when the fleecy flocks 
unnumber'd stand In wealthy folds, and 
wait the milker's hand, The hollow 
vales incessant bleating fills, The 
lambs reply from all the neighbouring 
hills: Such clamours rose from various 
nations round, Mix'd was the murmur, 
and confused the sound. Each host now 
joins, and each a god inspires, These 
Mars incites, and those Minerva fires, 
Pale flight around, and dreadful terror 
reign; And discord raging bathes the 
purple plain; Discord! dire sister of 
the slaughtering power, Small at her 
birth, but rising every hour, While 
scarce the skies her horrid head can 
bound, She stalks on earth, and shakes 
the world around;(139) The nations 
bleed, where'er her steps she turns, 
The groan still deepens, and the combat 
burns.

 Now shield with shield, with helmet 
helmet closed, To armour armour, lance 
to lance opposed, Host against host 
with shadowy squadrons drew, The 
sounding darts in iron tempests flew, 
Victors and vanquish'd join'd 
promiscuous cries, And shrilling shouts 
and dying groans arise; With streaming 
blood the slippery fields are dyed, And 
slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful 
tide.

 As torrents roll, increased by 
numerous rills, With rage impetuous, 
down their echoing hills Rush to the 
vales, and pour'd along the plain. Roar 
through a thousand channels to the 
main: The distant shepherd trembling 
hears the sound; So mix both hosts, and 
so their cries rebound.

 The bold Antilochus the slaughter led, 
The first who struck a valiant Trojan 
dead: At great Echepolus the lance 
arrives, Razed his high crest, and 
through his helmet drives; Warm'd in 
the brain the brazen weapon lies, And 
shades eternal settle o'er his eyes. So 
sinks a tower, that long assaults had 
stood Of force and fire, its walls 
besmear'd with blood. Him, the bold 
leader of the Abantian throng,(140) 
Seized to despoil, and dragg'd the 
corpse along: But while he strove to 
tug the inserted dart, Agenor's javelin 
reach'd the hero's heart. His flank, 
unguarded by his ample shield, Admits 
the lance: he falls, and spurns the 
field; The nerves, unbraced, support 
his limbs no more; The soul comes 
floating in a tide of gore. Trojans and 
Greeks now gather round the slain; The 
war renews, the warriors bleed again: 
As o'er their prey rapacious wolves 
engage, Man dies on man, and all is 
blood and rage.

 In blooming youth fair Simoisius fell, 
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of 
hell; Fair Simoisius, whom his mother 
bore Amid the flocks on silver Simois' 
shore: The nymph descending from the 
hills of Ide, To seek her parents on 
his flowery side, Brought forth the 
babe, their common care and joy, And 
thence from Simois named the lovely 
boy. Short was his date! by dreadful 
Ajax slain, He falls, and renders all 
their cares in vain! So falls a poplar, 
that in watery ground Raised high the 
head, with stately branches crown'd, 
(Fell'd by some artist with his shining 
steel, To shape the circle of the 
bending wheel,) Cut down it lies, tall, 
smooth, and largely spread, With all 
its beauteous honours on its head 
There, left a subject to the wind and 
rain, And scorch'd by suns, it withers 
on the plain Thus pierced by Ajax, 
Simoisius lies Stretch'd on the shore, 
and thus neglected dies.

 At Ajax, Antiphus his javelin threw; 
The pointed lance with erring fury 
flew, And Leucus, loved by wise 
Ulysses, slew. He drops the corpse of 
Simoisius slain, And sinks a breathless 
carcase on the plain. This saw Ulysses, 
and with grief enraged, Strode where 
the foremost of the foes engaged; Arm'd 
with his spear, he meditates the wound, 
In act to throw; but cautious look'd 
around, Struck at his sight the Trojans 
backward drew, And trembling heard the 
javelin as it flew. A chief stood nigh, 
who from Abydos came, Old Priam's son, 
Democoon was his name. The weapon 
entered close above his ear, Cold 
through his temples glides the whizzing 
spear;(141) With piercing shrieks the 
youth resigns his breath, His eye-balls 
darken with the shades of death; 
Ponderous he falls; his clanging arms 
resound, And his broad buckler rings 
against the ground.

 Seized with affright the boldest foes 
appear; E'en godlike Hector seems 
himself to fear; Slow he gave way, the 
rest tumultuous fled; The Greeks with 
shouts press on, and spoil the dead: 
But Phoebus now from Ilion's towering 
height Shines forth reveal'd, and 
animates the fight. "Trojans, be bold, 
and force with force oppose; Your 
foaming steeds urge headlong on the 
foes! Nor are their bodies rocks, nor 
ribb'd with steel; Your weapons enter, 
and your strokes they feel. Have ye 
forgot what seem'd your dread before? 
The great, the fierce Achilles fights 
no more."

 Apollo thus from Ilion's lofty towers, 
Array'd in terrors, roused the Trojan 
powers: While war's fierce goddess 
fires the Grecian foe, And shouts and 
thunders in the fields below. Then 
great Diores fell, by doom divine, In 
vain his valour and illustrious line. A 
broken rock the force of Pyrus threw, 
(Who from cold Ćnus led the Thracian 
crew,)(142) Full on his ankle dropp'd 
the ponderous stone, Burst the strong 
nerves, and crash'd the solid bone. 
Supine he tumbles on the crimson sands, 
Before his helpless friends, and native 
bands, And spreads for aid his 
unavailing hands. The foe rush'd 
furious as he pants for breath, And 
through his navel drove the pointed 
death: His gushing entrails smoked upon 
the ground, And the warm life came 
issuing from the wound.

 His lance bold Thoas at the conqueror 
sent, Deep in his breast above the pap 
it went, Amid the lungs was fix'd the 
winged wood, And quivering in his 
heaving bosom stood: Till from the 
dying chief, approaching near, The 
Ćtolian warrior tugg'd his weighty 
spear: Then sudden waved his flaming 
falchion round, And gash'd his belly 
with a ghastly wound; The corpse now 
breathless on the bloody plain, To 
spoil his arms the victor strove in 
vain; The Thracian bands against the 
victor press'd, A grove of lances 
glitter'd at his breast. Stern Thoas, 
glaring with revengeful eyes, In sullen 
fury slowly quits the prize.

 Thus fell two heroes; one the pride of 
Thrace, And one the leader of the 
Epeian race; Death's sable shade at 
once o'ercast their eyes, In dust the 
vanquish'd and the victor lies. With 
copious slaughter all the fields are 
red, And heap'd with growing mountains 
of the dead.

 Had some brave chief this martial 
scene beheld, By Pallas guarded through 
the dreadful field; Might darts be bid 
to turn their points away, And swords 
around him innocently play; The war's 
whole art with wonder had he seen, And 
counted heroes where he counted men.

 So fought each host, with thirst of 
glory fired, And crowds on crowds 
triumphantly expired. 

 Map of the Plain of Troy. 

 

BOOK V. 

ARGUMENT.

THE ACTS OF DIOMED.

Diomed, assisted by Pallas, performs 
wonders in this day's battle. Pandarus 
wounds him with an arrow, but the 
goddess cures him, enables him to 
discern gods from mortals, and 
prohibits him from contending with any 
of the former, excepting Venus. Ćneas 
joins Pandarus to oppose him; Pandarus 
is killed, and Ćneas in great danger 
but for the assistance of Venus; who, 
as she is removing her son from the 
fight, is wounded on the hand by 
Diomed. Apollo seconds her in his 
rescue, and at length carries off Ćneas 
to Troy, where he is healed in the 
temple of Pergamus. Mars rallies the 
Trojans, and assists Hector to make a 
stand. In the meantime Ćneas is 
restored to the field, and they 
overthrow several of the Greeks; among 
the rest Tlepolemus is slain by 
Sarpedon. Juno and Minerva descend to 
resist Mars; the latter incites Diomed 
to go against that god; he wounds him, 
and sends him groaning to heaven.

The first battle continues through this 
book. The scene is the same as in the 
former.

 But Pallas now Tydides' soul 
inspires,(143) Fills with her force, 
and warms with all her fires, Above the 
Greeks his deathless fame to raise, And 
crown her hero with distinguish'd 
praise. High on his helm celestial 
lightnings play, His beamy shield emits 
a living ray; The unwearied blaze 
incessant streams supplies, Like the 
red star that fires the autumnal skies, 
When fresh he rears his radiant orb to 
sight, And, bathed in ocean, shoots a 
keener light. Such glories Pallas on 
the chief bestow'd, Such, from his 
arms, the fierce effulgence flow'd: 
Onward she drives him, furious to 
engage, Where the fight burns, and 
where the thickest rage.

 The sons of Dares first the combat 
sought, A wealthy priest, but rich 
without a fault; In Vulcan's fane the 
father's days were led, The sons to 
toils of glorious battle bred; These 
singled from their troops the fight 
maintain, These, from their steeds, 
Tydides on the plain. Fierce for renown 
the brother-chiefs draw near, And first 
bold Phegeus cast his sounding spear, 
Which o'er the warrior's shoulder took 
its course, And spent in empty air its 
erring force. Not so, Tydides, flew thy 
lance in vain, But pierced his breast, 
and stretch'd him on the plain. Seized 
with unusual fear, Idaeus fled, Left 
the rich chariot, and his brother dead. 
And had not Vulcan lent celestial aid, 
He too had sunk to death's eternal 
shade; But in a smoky cloud the god of 
fire Preserved the son, in pity to the 
sire. The steeds and chariot, to the 
navy led, Increased the spoils of 
gallant Diomed.

 Struck with amaze and shame, the 
Trojan crew, Or slain, or fled, the 
sons of Dares view; When by the 
blood-stain'd hand Minerva press'd The 
god of battles, and this speech 
address'd:

 "Stern power of war! by whom the 
mighty fall, Who bathe in blood, and 
shake the lofty wall! Let the brave 
chiefs their glorious toils divide; And 
whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide: 
While we from interdicted fields 
retire, Nor tempt the wrath of heaven's 
avenging sire."

 Her words allay the impetuous 
warrior's heat, The god of arms and 
martial maid retreat; Removed from 
fight, on Xanthus' flowery bounds They 
sat, and listen'd to the dying sounds.

 Meantime, the Greeks the Trojan race 
pursue, And some bold chieftain every 
leader slew: First Odius falls, and 
bites the bloody sand, His death 
ennobled by Atrides' hand:

 As he to flight his wheeling car 
address'd, The speedy javelin drove 
from back to breast. In dust the mighty 
Halizonian lay, His arms resound, the 
spirit wings its way.

 Thy fate was next, O Phaestus! doom'd 
to feel The great Idomeneus' protended 
steel; Whom Borus sent (his son and 
only joy) From fruitful Tarne to the 
fields of Troy. The Cretan javelin 
reach'd him from afar, And pierced his 
shoulder as he mounts his car; Back 
from the car he tumbles to the ground, 
And everlasting shades his eyes 
surround.

 Then died Scamandrius, expert in the 
chase, In woods and wilds to wound the 
savage race; Diana taught him all her 
sylvan arts, To bend the bow, and aim 
unerring darts: But vainly here Diana's 
arts he tries, The fatal lance arrests 
him as he flies; From Menelaus' arm the 
weapon sent, Through his broad back and 
heaving bosom went: Down sinks the 
warrior with a thundering sound, His 
brazen armour rings against the ground.

 Next artful Phereclus untimely fell; 
Bold Merion sent him to the realms of 
hell. Thy father's skill, O Phereclus! 
was thine, The graceful fabric and the 
fair design; For loved by Pallas, 
Pallas did impart To him the 
shipwright's and the builder's art. 
Beneath his hand the fleet of Paris 
rose, The fatal cause of all his 
country's woes; But he, the mystic will 
of heaven unknown, Nor saw his 
country's peril, nor his own. The 
hapless artist, while confused he fled, 
The spear of Merion mingled with the 
dead. Through his right hip, with 
forceful fury cast, Between the bladder 
and the bone it pass'd; Prone on his 
knees he falls with fruitless cries, 
And death in lasting slumber seals his 
eyes.

 From Meges' force the swift Pedaeus 
fled, Antenor's offspring from a 
foreign bed, Whose generous spouse, 
Theanor, heavenly fair, Nursed the 
young stranger with a mother's care. 
How vain those cares! when Meges in the 
rear Full in his nape infix'd the fatal 
spear; Swift through his crackling jaws 
the weapon glides, And the cold tongue 
and grinning teeth divides.

 Then died Hypsenor, generous and 
divine, Sprung from the brave 
Dolopion's mighty line, Who near adored 
Scamander made abode, Priest of the 
stream, and honoured as a god. On him, 
amidst the flying numbers found, 
Eurypylus inflicts a deadly wound; On 
his broad shoulders fell the forceful 
brand, Thence glancing downwards, 
lopp'd his holy hand, Which stain'd 
with sacred blood the blushing sand. 
Down sunk the priest: the purple hand 
of death Closed his dim eye, and fate 
suppress'd his breath.

 Thus toil'd the chiefs, in different 
parts engaged. In every quarter fierce 
Tydides raged; Amid the Greek, amid the 
Trojan train, Rapt through the ranks he 
thunders o'er the plain; Now here, now 
there, he darts from place to place, 
Pours on the rear, or lightens in their 
face. Thus from high hills the torrents 
swift and strong Deluge whole fields, 
and sweep the trees along, Through 
ruin'd moles the rushing wave resounds, 
O'erwhelm's the bridge, and bursts the 
lofty bounds; The yellow harvests of 
the ripen'd year, And flatted 
vineyards, one sad waste appear!(144) 
While Jove descends in sluicy sheets of 
rain, And all the labours of mankind 
are vain.

 So raged Tydides, boundless in his 
ire, Drove armies back, and made all 
Troy retire. With grief the leader of 
the Lycian band Saw the wide waste of 
his destructive hand: His bended bow 
against the chief he drew; Swift to the 
mark the thirsty arrow flew, Whose 
forky point the hollow breastplate 
tore, Deep in his shoulder pierced, and 
drank the gore: The rushing stream his 
brazen armour dyed, While the proud 
archer thus exulting cried:

 "Hither, ye Trojans, hither drive your 
steeds! Lo! by our hand the bravest 
Grecian bleeds, Not long the deathful 
dart he can sustain; Or Phoebus urged 
me to these fields in vain." So spoke 
he, boastful: but the winged dart 
Stopp'd short of life, and mock'd the 
shooter's art. The wounded chief, 
behind his car retired, The helping 
hand of Sthenelus required; Swift from 
his seat he leap'd upon the ground, And 
tugg'd the weapon from the gushing 
wound; When thus the king his guardian 
power address'd, The purple current 
wandering o'er his vest:

 "O progeny of Jove! unconquer'd maid! 
If e'er my godlike sire deserved thy 
aid, If e'er I felt thee in the 
fighting field; Now, goddess, now, thy 
sacred succour yield. O give my lance 
to reach the Trojan knight, Whose arrow 
wounds the chief thou guard'st in 
fight; And lay the boaster grovelling 
on the shore, That vaunts these eyes 
shall view the light no more."

 Thus pray'd Tydides, and Minerva 
heard, His nerves confirm'd, his 
languid spirits cheer'd; He feels each 
limb with wonted vigour light; His 
beating bosom claim'd the promised 
fight. "Be bold, (she cried), in every 
combat shine, War be thy province, thy 
protection mine; Rush to the fight, and 
every foe control; Wake each paternal 
virtue in thy soul: Strength swells thy 
boiling breast, infused by me, And all 
thy godlike father breathes in thee; 
Yet more, from mortal mists I purge thy 
eyes,(145) And set to view the warring 
deities. These see thou shun, through 
all the embattled plain; Nor rashly 
strive where human force is vain. If 
Venus mingle in the martial band, Her 
shalt thou wound: so Pallas gives 
command."

 With that, the blue-eyed virgin wing'd 
her flight; The hero rush'd impetuous 
to the fight; With tenfold ardour now 
invades the plain, Wild with delay, and 
more enraged by pain. As on the fleecy 
flocks when hunger calls, Amidst the 
field a brindled lion falls; If chance 
some shepherd with a distant dart The 
savage wound, he rouses at the smart, 
He foams, he roars; the shepherd dares 
not stay, But trembling leaves the 
scattering flocks a prey; Heaps fall on 
heaps; he bathes with blood the ground, 
Then leaps victorious o'er the lofty 
mound. Not with less fury stern Tydides 
flew; And two brave leaders at an 
instant slew; Astynous breathless fell, 
and by his side, His people's pastor, 
good Hypenor, died; Astynous' breast 
the deadly lance receives, Hypenor's 
shoulder his broad falchion cleaves. 
Those slain he left, and sprung with 
noble rage Abas and Polyidus to engage; 
Sons of Eurydamus, who, wise and old, 
Could fate foresee, and mystic dreams 
unfold; The youths return'd not from 
the doubtful plain, And the sad father 
tried his arts in vain; No mystic dream 
could make their fates appear, Though 
now determined by Tydides' spear.

 Young Xanthus next, and Thoon felt his 
rage; The joy and hope of Phaenops' 
feeble age: Vast was his wealth, and 
these the only heirs Of all his labours 
and a life of cares. Cold death 
o'ertakes them in their blooming years, 
And leaves the father unavailing tears: 
To strangers now descends his heapy 
store, The race forgotten, and the name 
no more.

 Two sons of Priam in one chariot ride, 
Glittering in arms, and combat side by 
side. As when the lordly lion seeks his 
food Where grazing heifers range the 
lonely wood, He leaps amidst them with 
a furious bound, Bends their strong 
necks, and tears them to the ground: So 
from their seats the brother chiefs are 
torn, Their steeds and chariot to the 
navy borne.

 With deep concern divine Ćneas view'd 
The foe prevailing, and his friends 
pursued; Through the thick storm of 
singing spears he flies, Exploring 
Pandarus with careful eyes. At length 
he found Lycaon's mighty son; To whom 
the chief of Venus' race begun:

 "Where, Pandarus, are all thy honours 
now, Thy winged arrows and unerring 
bow, Thy matchless skill, thy yet 
unrivall'd fame, And boasted glory of 
the Lycian name? O pierce that mortal! 
if we mortal call That wondrous force 
by which whole armies fall; Or god 
incensed, who quits the distant skies 
To punish Troy for slighted sacrifice; 
(Which, oh avert from our unhappy 
state! For what so dreadful as 
celestial hate)? Whoe'er he be, 
propitiate Jove with prayer; If man, 
destroy; if god, entreat to spare."

 To him the Lycian: "Whom your eyes 
behold, If right I judge, is Diomed the 
bold: Such coursers whirl him o'er the 
dusty field, So towers his helmet, and 
so flames his shield. If 'tis a god, he 
wears that chief's disguise: Or if that 
chief, some guardian of the skies, 
Involved in clouds, protects him in the 
fray, And turns unseen the frustrate 
dart away. I wing'd an arrow, which not 
idly fell, The stroke had fix'd him to 
the gates of hell; And, but some god, 
some angry god withstands, His fate was 
due to these unerring hands. Skill'd in 
the bow, on foot I sought the war, Nor 
join'd swift horses to the rapid car. 
Ten polish'd chariots I possess'd at 
home, And still they grace Lycaon's 
princely dome: There veil'd in spacious 
coverlets they stand; And twice ten 
coursers wait their lord's command. The 
good old warrior bade me trust to 
these, When first for Troy I sail'd the 
sacred seas; In fields, aloft, the 
whirling car to guide, And through the 
ranks of death triumphant ride. But 
vain with youth, and yet to thrift 
inclined, I heard his counsels with 
unheedful mind, And thought the steeds 
(your large supplies unknown) Might 
fail of forage in the straiten'd town; 
So took my bow and pointed darts in 
hand And left the chariots in my native 
land.

 "Too late, O friend! my rashness I 
deplore; These shafts, once fatal, 
carry death no more. Tydeus' and 
Atreus' sons their points have found, 
And undissembled gore pursued the 
wound. In vain they bleed: this 
unavailing bow Serves, not to 
slaughter, but provoke the foe. In evil 
hour these bended horns I strung, And 
seized the quiver where it idly hung. 
Cursed be the fate that sent me to the 
field Without a warrior's arms, the 
spear and shield! If e'er with life I 
quit the Trojan plain, If e'er I see my 
spouse and sire again, This bow, 
unfaithful to my glorious aims, Broke 
by my hand, shall feed the blazing 
flames."

 To whom the leader of the Dardan race: 
"Be calm, nor Phoebus' honour'd gift 
disgrace. The distant dart be praised, 
though here we need The rushing chariot 
and the bounding steed. Against yon 
hero let us bend our course, And, hand 
to hand, encounter force with force. 
Now mount my seat, and from the 
chariot's height Observe my father's 
steeds, renown'd in fight; Practised 
alike to turn, to stop, to chase, To 
dare the shock, or urge the rapid race; 
Secure with these, through fighting 
fields we go; Or safe to Troy, if Jove 
assist the foe. Haste, seize the whip, 
and snatch the guiding rein; The 
warrior's fury let this arm sustain; 
Or, if to combat thy bold heart 
incline, Take thou the spear, the 
chariot's care be mine."

 "O prince! (Lycaon's valiant son 
replied) As thine the steeds, be thine 
the task to guide. The horses, 
practised to their lord's command, 
Shall bear the rein, and answer to thy 
hand; But, if, unhappy, we desert the 
fight, Thy voice alone can animate 
their flight; Else shall our fates be 
number'd with the dead, And these, the 
victor's prize, in triumph led. Thine 
be the guidance, then: with spear and 
shield Myself will charge this terror 
of the field."

 And now both heroes mount the 
glittering car; The bounding coursers 
rush amidst the war; Their fierce 
approach bold Sthenelus espied, Who 
thus, alarm'd, to great Tydides cried:

 "O friend! two chiefs of force immense 
I see, Dreadful they come, and bend 
their rage on thee: Lo the brave heir 
of old Lycaon's line, And great Ćneas, 
sprung from race divine! Enough is 
given to fame. Ascend thy car! And save 
a life, the bulwark of our war."

 At this the hero cast a gloomy look, 
Fix'd on the chief with scorn; and thus 
he spoke:

 "Me dost thou bid to shun the coming 
fight? Me wouldst thou move to base, 
inglorious flight? Know, 'tis not 
honest in my soul to fear, Nor was 
Tydides born to tremble here. I hate 
the cumbrous chariot's slow advance, 
And the long distance of the flying 
lance; But while my nerves are strong, 
my force entire, Thus front the foe, 
and emulate my sire. Nor shall yon 
steeds, that fierce to fight convey 
Those threatening heroes, bear them 
both away; One chief at least beneath 
this arm shall die; So Pallas tells me, 
and forbids to fly. But if she dooms, 
and if no god withstand, That both 
shall fall by one victorious hand, Then 
heed my words: my horses here detain, 
Fix'd to the chariot by the straiten'd 
rein; Swift to Ćneas' empty seat 
proceed, And seize the coursers of 
ethereal breed; The race of those, 
which once the thundering god(146) For 
ravish'd Ganymede on Tros bestow'd, The 
best that e'er on earth's broad surface 
run, Beneath the rising or the setting 
sun. Hence great Anchises stole a breed 
unknown, By mortal mares, from fierce 
Laomedon: Four of this race his ample 
stalls contain, And two transport Ćneas 
o'er the plain. These, were the rich 
immortal prize our own, Through the 
wide world should make our glory known."

 Thus while they spoke, the foe came 
furious on, And stern Lycaon's warlike 
race begun:

 "Prince, thou art met. Though late in 
vain assail'd, The spear may enter 
where the arrow fail'd."

 He said, then shook the ponderous 
lance, and flung; On his broad shield 
the sounding weapon rung, Pierced the 
tough orb, and in his cuirass hung, "He 
bleeds! the pride of Greece! (the 
boaster cries,) Our triumph now, the 
mighty warrior lies!" "Mistaken 
vaunter! (Diomed replied;) Thy dart has 
erred, and now my spear be tried; Ye 
'scape not both; one, headlong from his 
car, With hostile blood shall glut the 
god of war."

 He spoke, and rising hurl'd his 
forceful dart, Which, driven by Pallas, 
pierced a vital part; Full in his face 
it enter'd, and betwixt The nose and 
eye-ball the proud Lycian fix'd; 
Crash'd all his jaws, and cleft the 
tongue within, Till the bright point 
look'd out beneath the chin. Headlong 
he falls, his helmet knocks the ground: 
Earth groans beneath him, and his arms 
resound; The starting coursers tremble 
with affright; The soul indignant seeks 
the realms of night.

 To guard his slaughter'd friend, Ćneas 
flies, His spear extending where the 
carcase lies; Watchful he wheels, 
protects it every way, As the grim lion 
stalks around his prey. O'er the fall'n 
trunk his ample shield display'd, He 
hides the hero with his mighty shade, 
And threats aloud! the Greeks with 
longing eyes Behold at distance, but 
forbear the prize. Then fierce Tydides 
stoops; and from the fields Heaved with 
vast force, a rocky fragment wields. 
Not two strong men the enormous weight 
could raise, Such men as live in these 
degenerate days:(147) He swung it 
round; and, gathering strength to 
throw, Discharged the ponderous ruin at 
the foe. Where to the hip the inserted 
thigh unites, Full on the bone the 
pointed marble lights; Through both the 
tendons broke the rugged stone, And 
stripp'd the skin, and crack'd the 
solid bone. Sunk on his knees, and 
staggering with his pains, His falling 
bulk his bended arm sustains; Lost in a 
dizzy mist the warrior lies; A sudden 
cloud comes swimming o'er his eyes. 
There the brave chief, who mighty 
numbers sway'd, Oppress'd had sunk to 
death's eternal shade, But heavenly 
Venus, mindful of the love She bore 
Anchises in the Idaean grove, His 
danger views with anguish and despair, 
And guards her offspring with a 
mother's care. About her much-loved son 
her arms she throws, Her arms whose 
whiteness match the falling snows. 
Screen'd from the foe behind her 
shining veil, The swords wave harmless, 
and the javelins fail; Safe through the 
rushing horse, and feather'd flight Of 
sounding shafts, she bears him from the 
fight.

 Nor Sthenelus, with unassisting hands, 
Remain'd unheedful of his lord's 
commands: His panting steeds, removed 
from out the war, He fix'd with 
straiten'd traces to the car, Next, 
rushing to the Dardan spoil, detains 
The heavenly coursers with the flowing 
manes: These in proud triumph to the 
fleet convey'd, No longer now a Trojan 
lord obey'd. That charge to bold 
Deipylus he gave, (Whom most he loved, 
as brave men love the brave,) Then 
mounting on his car, resumed the rein, 
And follow'd where Tydides swept the 
plain.

 Meanwhile (his conquest ravished from 
his eyes) The raging chief in chase of 
Venus flies: No goddess she, 
commission'd to the field, Like Pallas 
dreadful with her sable shield, Or 
fierce Bellona thundering at the wall, 
While flames ascend, and mighty ruins 
fall; He knew soft combats suit the 
tender dame, New to the field, and 
still a foe to fame. Through breaking 
ranks his furious course he bends, And 
at the goddess his broad lance extends; 
Through her bright veil the daring 
weapon drove, The ambrosial veil which 
all the Graces wove; Her snowy hand the 
razing steel profaned, And the 
transparent skin with crimson stain'd, 
From the clear vein a stream immortal 
flow'd, Such stream as issues from a 
wounded god;(148) Pure emanation! 
uncorrupted flood! Unlike our gross, 
diseased, terrestrial blood: (For not 
the bread of man their life sustains, 
Nor wine's inflaming juice supplies 
their veins:) With tender shrieks the 
goddess fill'd the place, And dropp'd 
her offspring from her weak embrace. 
Him Phoebus took: he casts a cloud 
around The fainting chief, and wards 
the mortal wound.

 Then with a voice that shook the 
vaulted skies, The king insults the 
goddess as she flies: "Ill with Jove's 
daughter bloody fights agree, The field 
of combat is no scene for thee: Go, let 
thy own soft sex employ thy care, Go, 
lull the coward, or delude the fair. 
Taught by this stroke renounce the 
war's alarms, And learn to tremble at 
the name of arms."

 Tydides thus. The goddess, seized with 
dread, Confused, distracted, from the 
conflict fled. To aid her, swift the 
winged Iris flew, Wrapt in a mist above 
the warring crew. The queen of love 
with faded charms she found. Pale was 
her cheek, and livid look'd the wound. 
To Mars, who sat remote, they bent 
their way: Far, on the left, with 
clouds involved he lay; Beside him 
stood his lance, distain'd with gore, 
And, rein'd with gold, his foaming 
steeds before. Low at his knee, she 
begg'd with streaming eyes Her 
brother's car, to mount the distant 
skies, And show'd the wound by fierce 
Tydides given, A mortal man, who dares 
encounter heaven. Stern Mars attentive 
hears the queen complain, And to her 
hand commits the golden rein; She 
mounts the seat, oppress'd with silent 
woe, Driven by the goddess of the 
painted bow. The lash resounds, the 
rapid chariot flies, And in a moment 
scales the lofty skies: They stopp'd 
the car, and there the coursers stood, 
Fed by fair Iris with ambrosial food; 
Before her mother, love's bright queen 
appears, O'erwhelmed with anguish, and 
dissolved in tears: She raised her in 
her arms, beheld her bleed, And ask'd 
what god had wrought this guilty deed? 

 VENUS, WOUNDED IN THE HAND, CONDUCTED 
BY IRIS TO MARS. 

 Then she: "This insult from no god I 
found, An impious mortal gave the 
daring wound! Behold the deed of 
haughty Diomed! 'Twas in the son's 
defence the mother bled. The war with 
Troy no more the Grecians wage; But 
with the gods (the immortal gods) 
engage."

 Dione then: "Thy wrongs with patience 
bear, And share those griefs inferior 
powers must share: Unnumber'd woes 
mankind from us sustain, And men with 
woes afflict the gods again. The mighty 
Mars in mortal fetters bound,(149) And 
lodged in brazen dungeons underground, 
Full thirteen moons imprison'd roar'd 
in vain; Otus and Ephialtes held the 
chain: Perhaps had perish'd had not 
Hermes' care Restored the groaning god 
to upper air. Great Juno's self has 
borne her weight of pain, The imperial 
partner of the heavenly reign; 
Amphitryon's son infix'd the deadly 
dart,(150) And fill'd with anguish her 
immortal heart. E'en hell's grim king 
Alcides' power confess'd, The shaft 
found entrance in his iron breast; To 
Jove's high palace for a cure he fled, 
Pierced in his own dominions of the 
dead; Where Paeon, sprinkling heavenly 
balm around, Assuaged the glowing 
pangs, and closed the wound. Rash, 
impious man! to stain the bless'd 
abodes, And drench his arrows in the 
blood of gods! 

 OTUS AND EPHIALTES HOLDING MARS 
CAPTIVE. 

 "But thou (though Pallas urged thy 
frantic deed), Whose spear ill-fated 
makes a goddess bleed, Know thou, 
whoe'er with heavenly power contends, 
Short is his date, and soon his glory 
ends; From fields of death when late he 
shall retire, No infant on his knees 
shall call him sire. Strong as thou 
art, some god may yet be found, To 
stretch thee pale and gasping on the 
ground; Thy distant wife, Ćgiale the 
fair,(151) Starting from sleep with a 
distracted air, Shall rouse thy slaves, 
and her lost lord deplore, The brave, 
the great, the glorious now no more!"

 This said, she wiped from Venus' 
wounded palm The sacred ichor, and 
infused the balm. Juno and Pallas with 
a smile survey'd, And thus to Jove 
began the blue-eyed maid:

 "Permit thy daughter, gracious Jove! 
to tell How this mischance the Cyprian 
queen befell, As late she tried with 
passion to inflame The tender bosom of 
a Grecian dame; Allured the fair, with 
moving thoughts of joy, To quit her 
country for some youth of Troy; The 
clasping zone, with golden buckles 
bound, Razed her soft hand with this 
lamented wound."

 The sire of gods and men superior 
smiled, And, calling Venus, thus 
address'd his child: "Not these, O 
daughter are thy proper cares, Thee 
milder arts befit, and softer wars; 
Sweet smiles are thine, and kind 
endearing charms; To Mars and Pallas 
leave the deeds of arms."

 Thus they in heaven: while on the 
plain below The fierce Tydides charged 
his Dardan foe, Flush'd with celestial 
blood pursued his way, And fearless 
dared the threatening god of day; 
Already in his hopes he saw him kill'd, 
Though screen'd behind Apollo's mighty 
shield. Thrice rushing furious, at the 
chief he strook; His blazing buckler 
thrice Apollo shook: He tried the 
fourth: when, breaking from the cloud, 
A more than mortal voice was heard 
aloud.

 "O son of Tydeus, cease! be wise and 
see How vast the difference of the gods 
and thee; Distance immense! between the 
powers that shine Above, eternal, 
deathless, and divine, And mortal man! 
a wretch of humble birth, A short-lived 
reptile in the dust of earth."

 So spoke the god who darts celestial 
fires: He dreads his fury, and some 
steps retires. Then Phoebus bore the 
chief of Venus' race To Troy's high 
fane, and to his holy place; Latona 
there and Phoebe heal'd the wound, With 
vigour arm'd him, and with glory 
crown'd. This done, the patron of the 
silver bow A phantom raised, the same 
in shape and show With great Ćneas; 
such the form he bore, And such in 
fight the radiant arms he wore. Around 
the spectre bloody wars are waged, And 
Greece and Troy with clashing shields 
engaged. Meantime on Ilion's tower 
Apollo stood, And calling Mars, thus 
urged the raging god:

 "Stern power of arms, by whom the 
mighty fall; Who bathest in blood, and 
shakest the embattled wall, Rise in thy 
wrath! to hell's abhorr'd abodes 
Despatch yon Greek, and vindicate the 
gods. First rosy Venus felt his brutal 
rage; Me next he charged, and dares all 
heaven engage: The wretch would brave 
high heaven's immortal sire, His triple 
thunder, and his bolts of fire."

 The god of battle issues on the plain, 
Stirs all the ranks, and fires the 
Trojan train; In form like Acamas, the 
Thracian guide, Enraged to Troy's 
retiring chiefs he cried:

 "How long, ye sons of Priam! will ye 
fly, And unrevenged see Priam's people 
die? Still unresisted shall the foe 
destroy, And stretch the slaughter to 
the gates of Troy? Lo, brave Ćneas 
sinks beneath his wound, Not godlike 
Hector more in arms renown'd: Haste 
all, and take the generous warrior's 
part. He said;--new courage swell'd 
each hero's heart. Sarpedon first his 
ardent soul express'd, And, turn'd to 
Hector, these bold words address'd:

 "Say, chief, is all thy ancient valour 
lost? Where are thy threats, and where 
thy glorious boast, That propp'd alone 
by Priam's race should stand Troy's 
sacred walls, nor need a foreign hand? 
Now, now thy country calls her wonted 
friends, And the proud vaunt in just 
derision ends. Remote they stand while 
alien troops engage, Like trembling 
hounds before the lion's rage. Far 
distant hence I held my wide command, 
Where foaming Xanthus laves the Lycian 
land; With ample wealth (the wish of 
mortals) bless'd, A beauteous wife, and 
infant at her breast; With those I left 
whatever dear could be: Greece, if she 
conquers, nothing wins from me; Yet 
first in fight my Lycian bands I cheer, 
And long to meet this mighty man ye 
fear; While Hector idle stands, nor 
bids the brave Their wives, their 
infants, and their altars save. Haste, 
warrior, haste! preserve thy threaten'd 
state, Or one vast burst of 
all-involving fate Full o'er your 
towers shall fall, and sweep away Sons, 
sires, and wives, an undistinguish'd 
prey. Rouse all thy Trojans, urge thy 
aids to fight; These claim thy thoughts 
by day, thy watch by night; With force 
incessant the brave Greeks oppose; Such 
cares thy friends deserve, and such thy 
foes."

 Stung to the heart the generous Hector 
hears, But just reproof with decent 
silence bears. From his proud car the 
prince impetuous springs, On earth he 
leaps, his brazen armour rings. Two 
shining spears are brandish'd in his 
hands; Thus arm'd, he animates his 
drooping bands, Revives their ardour, 
turns their steps from flight, And 
wakes anew the dying flames of fight. 
They turn, they stand; the Greeks their 
fury dare, Condense their powers, and 
wait the growing war.

 As when, on Ceres' sacred floor, the 
swain Spreads the wide fan to clear the 
golden grain, And the light chaff, 
before the breezes borne, Ascends in 
clouds from off the heapy corn; The 
grey dust, rising with collected winds, 
Drives o'er the barn, and whitens all 
the hinds: So white with dust the 
Grecian host appears. From trampling 
steeds, and thundering charioteers; The 
dusky clouds from labour'd earth arise, 
And roll in smoking volumes to the 
skies. Mars hovers o'er them with his 
sable shield, And adds new horrors to 
the darken'd field: Pleased with his 
charge, and ardent to fulfil, In Troy's 
defence, Apollo's heavenly will: Soon 
as from fight the blue-eyed maid 
retires, Each Trojan bosom with new 
warmth he fires. And now the god, from 
forth his sacred fane, Produced Ćneas 
to the shouting train; Alive, unharm'd, 
with all his peers around, Erect he 
stood, and vigorous from his wound: 
Inquiries none they made; the dreadful 
day No pause of words admits, no dull 
delay; Fierce Discord storms, Apollo 
loud exclaims, Fame calls, Mars 
thunders, and the field's in flames.

 Stern Diomed with either Ajax stood, 
And great Ulysses, bathed in hostile 
blood. Embodied close, the labouring 
Grecian train The fiercest shock of 
charging hosts sustain. Unmoved and 
silent, the whole war they wait 
Serenely dreadful, and as fix'd as 
fate. So when the embattled clouds in 
dark array, Along the skies their 
gloomy lines display; When now the 
North his boisterous rage has spent, 
And peaceful sleeps the liquid element: 
The low-hung vapours, motionless and 
still, Rest on the summits of the 
shaded hill; Till the mass scatters as 
the winds arise, Dispersed and broken 
through the ruffled skies.

 Nor was the general wanting to his 
train; From troop to troop he toils 
through all the plain, "Ye Greeks, be 
men! the charge of battle bear; Your 
brave associates and yourselves revere! 
Let glorious acts more glorious acts 
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 
who trembles in the field of fame, 
Meets death, and worse than death, 
eternal shame!"

 These words he seconds with his flying 
lance, To meet whose point was strong 
Deicoon's chance: Ćneas' friend, and in 
his native place Honour'd and loved 
like Priam's royal race: Long had he 
fought the foremost in the field, But 
now the monarch's lance transpierced 
his shield: His shield too weak the 
furious dart to stay, Through his broad 
belt the weapon forced its way: The 
grisly wound dismiss'd his soul to 
hell, His arms around him rattled as he 
fell.

 Then fierce Ćneas, brandishing his 
blade, In dust Orsilochus and Crethon 
laid, Whose sire Diocleus, wealthy, 
brave and great, In well-built Pherae 
held his lofty seat:(152) Sprung from 
Alpheus' plenteous stream, that yields 
Increase of harvests to the Pylian 
fields. He got Orsilochus, Diocleus he, 
And these descended in the third 
degree. Too early expert in the martial 
toil, In sable ships they left their 
native soil, To avenge Atrides: now, 
untimely slain, They fell with glory on 
the Phrygian plain. So two young 
mountain lions, nursed with blood In 
deep recesses of the gloomy wood, Rush 
fearless to the plains, and 
uncontroll'd Depopulate the stalls and 
waste the fold: Till pierced at 
distance from their native den, 
O'erpowered they fall beneath the force 
of men. Prostrate on earth their 
beauteous bodies lay, Like mountain 
firs, as tall and straight as they. 
Great Menelaus views with pitying eyes, 
Lifts his bright lance, and at the 
victor flies; Mars urged him on; yet, 
ruthless in his hate, The god but urged 
him to provoke his fate. He thus 
advancing, Nestor's valiant son Shakes 
for his danger, and neglects his own; 
Struck with the thought, should Helen's 
lord be slain, And all his country's 
glorious labours vain. Already met, the 
threatening heroes stand; The spears 
already tremble in their hand: In 
rush'd Antilochus, his aid to bring, 
And fall or conquer by the Spartan 
king. These seen, the Dardan backward 
turn'd his course, Brave as he was, and 
shunn'd unequal force. The breathless 
bodies to the Greeks they drew, Then 
mix in combat, and their toils renew.

 First, Pylaemenes, great in battle, 
bled, Who sheathed in brass the 
Paphlagonians led. Atrides mark'd him 
where sublime he stood; Fix'd in his 
throat the javelin drank his blood. The 
faithful Mydon, as he turn'd from fight 
His flying coursers, sunk to endless 
night; A broken rock by Nestor's son 
was thrown: His bended arm received the 
falling stone; From his numb'd hand the 
ivory-studded reins, Dropp'd in the 
dust, are trail'd along the plains: 
Meanwhile his temples feel a deadly 
wound; He groans in death, and 
ponderous sinks to ground: Deep drove 
his helmet in the sands, and there The 
head stood fix'd, the quivering legs in 
air, Till trampled flat beneath the 
coursers' feet: The youthful victor 
mounts his empty seat, And bears the 
prize in triumph to the fleet.

 Great Hector saw, and, raging at the 
view, Pours on the Greeks: the Trojan 
troops pursue: He fires his host with 
animating cries, And brings along the 
furies of the skies, Mars, stern 
destroyer! and Bellona dread, Flame in 
the front, and thunder at their head: 
This swells the tumult and the rage of 
fight; That shakes a spear that casts a 
dreadful light. Where Hector march'd, 
the god of battles shined, Now storm'd 
before him, and now raged behind.

 Tydides paused amidst his full career; 
Then first the hero's manly breast knew 
fear. As when some simple swain his cot 
forsakes, And wide through fens an 
unknown journey takes: If chance a 
swelling brook his passage stay, And 
foam impervious 'cross the wanderer's 
way, Confused he stops, a length of 
country pass'd, Eyes the rough waves, 
and tired, returns at last. Amazed no 
less the great Tydides stands: He 
stay'd, and turning thus address'd his 
bands:

 "No wonder, Greeks! that all to Hector 
yield; Secure of favouring gods, he 
takes the field; His strokes they 
second, and avert our spears. Behold 
where Mars in mortal arms appears! 
Retire then, warriors, but sedate and 
slow; Retire, but with your faces to 
the foe. Trust not too much your 
unavailing might; 'Tis not with Troy, 
but with the gods ye fight."

 Now near the Greeks the black 
battalions drew; And first two leaders 
valiant Hector slew: His force 
Anchialus and Mnesthes found, In every 
art of glorious war renown'd; In the 
same car the chiefs to combat ride, And 
fought united, and united died. Struck 
at the sight, the mighty Ajax glows 
With thirst of vengeance, and assaults 
the foes. His massy spear with 
matchless fury sent, Through Amphius' 
belt and heaving belly went; Amphius 
Apaesus' happy soil possess'd, With 
herds abounding, and with treasure 
bless'd; But fate resistless from his 
country led The chief, to perish at his 
people's head. Shook with his fall his 
brazen armour rung, And fierce, to 
seize it, conquering Ajax sprung; 
Around his head an iron tempest rain'd; 
A wood of spears his ample shield 
sustain'd: Beneath one foot the yet 
warm corpse he press'd, And drew his 
javelin from the bleeding breast: He 
could no more; the showering darts 
denied To spoil his glittering arms, 
and plumy pride. Now foes on foes came 
pouring on the fields, With bristling 
lances, and compacted shields; Till in 
the steely circle straiten'd round, 
Forced he gives way, and sternly quits 
the ground.

 While thus they strive, Tlepolemus the 
great,(153) Urged by the force of 
unresisted fate, Burns with desire 
Sarpedon's strength to prove; Alcides' 
offspring meets the son of Jove. 
Sheathed in bright arms each adverse 
chief came on. Jove's great descendant, 
and his greater son. Prepared for 
combat, ere the lance he toss'd, The 
daring Rhodian vents his haughty boast:

 "What brings this Lycian counsellor so 
far, To tremble at our arms, not mix in 
war! Know thy vain self, nor let their 
flattery move, Who style thee son of 
cloud-compelling Jove. How far unlike 
those chiefs of race divine, How vast 
the difference of their deeds and 
thine! Jove got such heroes as my sire, 
whose soul No fear could daunt, nor 
earth nor hell control. Troy felt his 
arm, and yon proud ramparts stand 
Raised on the ruins of his vengeful 
hand: With six small ships, and but a 
slender train, He left the town a 
wide-deserted plain. But what art thou, 
who deedless look'st around, While 
unrevenged thy Lycians bite the ground! 
Small aid to Troy thy feeble force can 
be; But wert thou greater, thou must 
yield to me. Pierced by my spear, to 
endless darkness go! I make this 
present to the shades below."

 The son of Hercules, the Rhodian 
guide, Thus haughty spoke. The Lycian 
king replied:

 "Thy sire, O prince! o'erturn'd the 
Trojan state, Whose perjured monarch 
well deserved his fate; Those heavenly 
steeds the hero sought so far, False he 
detain'd, the just reward of war. Nor 
so content, the generous chief defied, 
With base reproaches and unmanly pride. 
But you, unworthy the high race you 
boast, Shall raise my glory when thy 
own is lost: Now meet thy fate, and by 
Sarpedon slain, Add one more ghost to 
Pluto's gloomy reign."

 He said: both javelins at an instant 
flew; Both struck, both wounded, but 
Sarpedon's slew: Full in the boaster's 
neck the weapon stood, Transfix'd his 
throat, and drank the vital blood; The 
soul disdainful seeks the caves of 
night, And his seal'd eyes for ever 
lose the light.

 Yet not in vain, Tlepolemus, was 
thrown Thy angry lance; which piercing 
to the bone Sarpedon's thigh, had 
robb'd the chief of breath; But Jove 
was present, and forbade the death. 
Borne from the conflict by his Lycian 
throng, The wounded hero dragg'd the 
lance along. (His friends, each busied 
in his several part, Through haste, or 
danger, had not drawn the dart.) The 
Greeks with slain Tlepolemus retired; 
Whose fall Ulysses view'd, with fury 
fired; Doubtful if Jove's great son he 
should pursue, Or pour his vengeance on 
the Lycian crew. But heaven and fate 
the first design withstand, Nor this 
great death must grace Ulysses' hand. 
Minerva drives him on the Lycian train; 
Alastor, Cronius, Halius, strew'd the 
plain, Alcander, Prytanis, Noemon 
fell:(154) And numbers more his sword 
had sent to hell, But Hector saw; and, 
furious at the sight, Rush'd terrible 
amidst the ranks of fight. With joy 
Sarpedon view'd the wish'd relief, And, 
faint, lamenting, thus implored the 
chief:

 "O suffer not the foe to bear away My 
helpless corpse, an unassisted prey; If 
I, unbless'd, must see my son no more, 
My much-loved consort, and my native 
shore, Yet let me die in Ilion's sacred 
wall; Troy, in whose cause I fell, 
shall mourn my fall."

 He said, nor Hector to the chief 
replies, But shakes his plume, and 
fierce to combat flies; Swift as a 
whirlwind, drives the scattering foes; 
And dyes the ground with purple as he 
goes.

 Beneath a beech, Jove's consecrated 
shade, His mournful friends divine 
Sarpedon laid: Brave Pelagon, his 
favourite chief, was nigh, Who wrench'd 
the javelin from his sinewy thigh. The 
fainting soul stood ready wing'd for 
flight, And o'er his eye-balls swam the 
shades of night; But Boreas rising 
fresh, with gentle breath, Recall'd his 
spirit from the gates of death.

 The generous Greeks recede with tardy 
pace, Though Mars and Hector thunder in 
their face; None turn their backs to 
mean ignoble flight, Slow they retreat, 
and even retreating fight. Who first, 
who last, by Mars' and Hector's hand, 
Stretch'd in their blood, lay gasping 
on the sand? Tenthras the great, 
Orestes the renown'd For managed 
steeds, and Trechus press'd the 
ground;, Next OEnomaus and OEnops' 
offspring died; Oresbius last fell 
groaning at their side: Oresbius, in 
his painted mitre gay, In fat Boeotia 
held his wealthy sway, Where lakes 
surround low Hyle's watery plain; A 
prince and people studious of their 
gain.

 The carnage Juno from the skies 
survey'd, And touch'd with grief 
bespoke the blue-eyed maid: "Oh, sight 
accursed! Shall faithless Troy prevail, 
And shall our promise to our people 
fail? How vain the word to Menelaus 
given By Jove's great daughter and the 
queen of heaven, Beneath his arms that 
Priam's towers should fall, If warring 
gods for ever guard the wall! Mars, red 
with slaughter, aids our hated foes: 
Haste, let us arm, and force with force 
oppose!"

 She spoke; Minerva burns to meet the 
war: And now heaven's empress calls her 
blazing car. At her command rush forth 
the steeds divine; Rich with immortal 
gold their trappings shine. Bright Hebe 
waits; by Hebe, ever young, The 
whirling wheels are to the chariot 
hung. On the bright axle turns the 
bidden wheel Of sounding brass; the 
polished axle steel. Eight brazen 
spokes in radiant order flame; The 
circles gold, of uncorrupted frame, 
Such as the heavens produce: and round 
the gold Two brazen rings of work 
divine were roll'd. The bossy naves of 
sold silver shone; Braces of gold 
suspend the moving throne: The car, 
behind, an arching figure bore; The 
bending concave form'd an arch before. 
Silver the beam, the extended yoke was 
gold, And golden reins the immortal 
coursers hold. Herself, impatient, to 
the ready car, The coursers joins, and 
breathes revenge and war.

 Pallas disrobes; her radiant veil 
untied, With flowers adorn'd, with art 
diversified, (The laboured veil her 
heavenly fingers wove,) Flows on the 
pavement of the court of Jove. Now 
heaven's dread arms her mighty limbs 
invest, Jove's cuirass blazes on her 
ample breast; Deck'd in sad triumph for 
the mournful field, O'er her broad 
shoulders hangs his horrid shield, 
Dire, black, tremendous! Round the 
margin roll'd, A fringe of serpents 
hissing guards the gold: Here all the 
terrors of grim War appear, Here rages 
Force, here tremble Flight and Fear, 
Here storm'd Contention, and here Fury 
frown'd, And the dire orb portentous 
Gorgon crown'd. The massy golden helm 
she next assumes, That dreadful nods 
with four o'ershading plumes; So vast, 
the broad circumference contains A 
hundred armies on a hundred plains. The 
goddess thus the imperial car ascends; 
Shook by her arm the mighty javelin 
bends, Ponderous and huge; that when 
her fury burns, Proud tyrants humbles, 
and whole hosts o'erturns.

 Swift at the scourge the ethereal 
coursers fly, While the smooth chariot 
cuts the liquid sky. Heaven's gates 
spontaneous open to the powers,(155) 
Heaven's golden gates, kept by the 
winged Hours;(156) Commission'd in 
alternate watch they stand, The sun's 
bright portals and the skies command, 
Involve in clouds the eternal gates of 
day, Or the dark barrier roll with ease 
away. The sounding hinges ring on 
either side The gloomy volumes, pierced 
with light, divide. The chariot mounts, 
where deep in ambient skies, Confused, 
Olympus' hundred heads arise; Where far 
apart the Thunderer fills his throne, 
O'er all the gods superior and alone. 
There with her snowy hand the queen 
restrains The fiery steeds, and thus to 
Jove complains:

 "O sire! can no resentment touch thy 
soul? Can Mars rebel, and does no 
thunder roll? What lawless rage on yon 
forbidden plain, What rash destruction! 
and what heroes slain! Venus, and 
Phoebus with the dreadful bow, Smile on 
the slaughter, and enjoy my woe. Mad, 
furious power! whose unrelenting mind 
No god can govern, and no justice bind. 
Say, mighty father! shall we scourge 
this pride, And drive from fight the 
impetuous homicide?"

 To whom assenting, thus the Thunderer 
said: "Go! and the great Minerva be thy 
aid. To tame the monster-god Minerva 
knows, And oft afflicts his brutal 
breast with woes."

 He said; Saturnia, ardent to obey, 
Lash'd her white steeds along the 
aerial way Swift down the steep of 
heaven the chariot rolls, Between the 
expanded earth and starry poles Far as 
a shepherd, from some point on 
high,(157) O'er the wide main extends 
his boundless eye, Through such a space 
of air, with thundering sound, At every 
leap the immortal coursers bound Troy 
now they reach'd and touch'd those 
banks divine, Where silver Simois and 
Scamander join There Juno stopp'd, and 
(her fair steeds unloosed) Of air 
condensed a vapour circumfused For 
these, impregnate with celestial dew, 
On Simois, brink ambrosial herbage 
grew. Thence to relieve the fainting 
Argive throng, Smooth as the sailing 
doves they glide along.

 The best and bravest of the Grecian 
band (A warlike circle) round Tydides 
stand. Such was their look as lions 
bathed in blood, Or foaming boars, the 
terror of the wood Heaven's empress 
mingles with the mortal crowd, And 
shouts, in Stentor's sounding voice, 
aloud; Stentor the strong, endued with 
brazen lungs,(158) Whose throats 
surpass'd the force of fifty tongues.

 "Inglorious Argives! to your race a 
shame, And only men in figure and in 
name! Once from the walls your timorous 
foes engaged, While fierce in war 
divine Achilles raged; Now issuing 
fearless they possess the plain, Now 
win the shores, and scarce the seas 
remain."

 Her speech new fury to their hearts 
convey'd; While near Tydides stood the 
Athenian maid; The king beside his 
panting steeds she found, O'erspent 
with toil reposing on the ground; To 
cool his glowing wound he sat apart, 
(The wound inflicted by the Lycian 
dart.) Large drops of sweat from all 
his limbs descend, Beneath his 
ponderous shield his sinews bend, Whose 
ample belt, that o'er his shoulder lay, 
He eased; and wash'd the clotted gore 
away. The goddess leaning o'er the 
bending yoke, Beside his coursers, thus 
her silence broke:

 "Degenerate prince! and not of Tydeus' 
kind, Whose little body lodged a mighty 
mind; Foremost he press'd in glorious 
toils to share, And scarce refrain'd 
when I forbade the war. Alone, 
unguarded, once he dared to go, And 
feast, incircled by the Theban foe; 
There braved, and vanquish'd, many a 
hardy knight; Such nerves I gave him, 
and such force in fight. Thou too no 
less hast been my constant care; Thy 
hands I arm'd, and sent thee forth to 
war: But thee or fear deters, or sloth 
detains; No drop of all thy father 
warms thy veins."

 The chief thus answered mild: 
"Immortal maid! I own thy presence, and 
confess thy aid. Not fear, thou 
know'st, withholds me from the plains, 
Nor sloth hath seized me, but thy word 
restrains: From warring gods thou 
bad'st me turn my spear, And Venus only 
found resistance here. Hence, goddess! 
heedful of thy high commands, Loth I 
gave way, and warn'd our Argive bands: 
For Mars, the homicide, these eyes 
beheld, With slaughter red, and raging 
round the field."

 Then thus Minerva:--"Brave Tydides, 
hear! Not Mars himself, nor aught 
immortal, fear. Full on the god impel 
thy foaming horse: Pallas commands, and 
Pallas lends thee force. Rash, furious, 
blind, from these to those he flies, 
And every side of wavering combat 
tries; Large promise makes, and breaks 
the promise made: Now gives the 
Grecians, now the Trojans aid."(159)

 She said, and to the steeds 
approaching near, Drew from his seat 
the martial charioteer. The vigorous 
power the trembling car ascends, Fierce 
for revenge; and Diomed attends: The 
groaning axle bent beneath the load; So 
great a hero, and so great a god. She 
snatch'd the reins, she lash'd with all 
her force, And full on Mars impelled 
the foaming horse: But first, to hide 
her heavenly visage, spread Black 
Orcus' helmet o'er her radiant head. 

 DIOMED CASTING HIS SPEAR AT MARS. 

 Just then gigantic Periphas lay slain, 
The strongest warrior of the Ćtolian 
train; The god, who slew him, leaves 
his prostrate prize Stretch'd where he 
fell, and at Tydides flies. Now rushing 
fierce, in equal arms appear The daring 
Greek, the dreadful god of war! Full at 
the chief, above his courser's head, 
From Mars's arm the enormous weapon 
fled: Pallas opposed her hand, and 
caused to glance Far from the car the 
strong immortal lance. Then threw the 
force of Tydeus' warlike son; The 
javelin hiss'd; the goddess urged it 
on: Where the broad cincture girt his 
armour round, It pierced the god: his 
groin received the wound. From the rent 
skin the warrior tugs again The smoking 
steel. Mars bellows with the pain: Loud 
as the roar encountering armies yield, 
When shouting millions shake the 
thundering field. Both armies start, 
and trembling gaze around; And earth 
and heaven re-bellow to the sound. As 
vapours blown by Auster's sultry 
breath, Pregnant with plagues, and 
shedding seeds of death, Beneath the 
rage of burning Sirius rise, Choke the 
parch'd earth, and blacken all the 
skies; In such a cloud the god from 
combat driven, High o'er the dusky 
whirlwind scales the heaven. Wild with 
his pain, he sought the bright abodes, 
There sullen sat beneath the sire of 
gods, Show'd the celestial blood, and 
with a groan Thus pour'd his plaints 
before the immortal throne:

 "Can Jove, supine, flagitious facts 
survey, And brook the furies of this 
daring day? For mortal men celestial 
powers engage, And gods on gods exert 
eternal rage: From thee, O father! all 
these ills we bear, And thy fell 
daughter with the shield and spear; 
Thou gavest that fury to the realms of 
light, Pernicious, wild, regardless of 
the right. All heaven beside reveres 
thy sovereign sway, Thy voice we hear, 
and thy behests obey: 'Tis hers to 
offend, and even offending share Thy 
breast, thy counsels, thy distinguish'd 
care: So boundless she, and thou so 
partial grown, Well may we deem the 
wondrous birth thy own. Now frantic 
Diomed, at her command, Against the 
immortals lifts his raging hand: The 
heavenly Venus first his fury found, Me 
next encountering, me he dared to 
wound; Vanquish'd I fled; even I, the 
god of fight, From mortal madness 
scarce was saved by flight. Else hadst 
thou seen me sink on yonder plain, 
Heap'd round, and heaving under loads 
of slain! Or pierced with Grecian 
darts, for ages lie, Condemn'd to pain, 
though fated not to die."

 Him thus upbraiding, with a wrathful 
look The lord of thunders view'd, and 
stern bespoke: "To me, perfidious! this 
lamenting strain? Of lawless force 
shall lawless Mars complain? Of all the 
gods who tread the spangled skies, Thou 
most unjust, most odious in our eyes! 
Inhuman discord is thy dire delight, 
The waste of slaughter, and the rage of 
fight. No bounds, no law, thy fiery 
temper quells, And all thy mother in 
thy soul rebels. In vain our threats, 
in vain our power we use; She gives the 
example, and her son pursues. Yet long 
the inflicted pangs thou shall not 
mourn, Sprung since thou art from Jove, 
and heavenly-born. Else, singed with 
lightning, hadst thou hence been 
thrown, Where chain'd on burning rocks 
the Titans groan."

 Thus he who shakes Olympus with his 
nod; Then gave to Paeon's care the 
bleeding god.(160) With gentle hand the 
balm he pour'd around, And heal'd the 
immortal flesh, and closed the wound. 
As when the fig's press'd juice, 
infused in cream, To curds coagulates 
the liquid stream, Sudden the fluids 
fix the parts combined; Such, and so 
soon, the ethereal texture join'd. 
Cleansed from the dust and gore, fair 
Hebe dress'd His mighty limbs in an 
immortal vest. Glorious he sat, in 
majesty restored, Fast by the throne of 
heaven's superior lord. Juno and Pallas 
mount the bless'd abodes, Their task 
perform'd, and mix among the gods. 

 JUNO. 

 

BOOK VI. 

ARGUMENT.

THE EPISODES OF GLAUCUS AND DIOMED, AND 
OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.

The gods having left the field, the 
Grecians prevail. Helenus, the chief 
augur of Troy, commands Hector to 
return to the city, in order to appoint 
a solemn procession of the queen and 
the Trojan matrons to the temple of 
Minerva, to entreat her to remove 
Diomed from the fight. The battle 
relaxing during the absence of Hector, 
Glaucus and Diomed have an interview 
between the two armies; where, coming 
to the knowledge, of the friendship and 
hospitality passed between their 
ancestors, they make exchange of their 
arms. Hector, having performed the 
orders of Helenus, prevails upon Paris 
to return to the battle, and, taking a 
tender leave of his wife Andromache, 
hastens again to the field.

The scene is first in the field of 
battle, between the rivers Simois and 
Scamander, and then changes to Troy.

 Now heaven forsakes the fight: the 
immortals yield To human force and 
human skill the field: Dark showers of 
javelins fly from foes to foes; Now 
here, now there, the tide of combat 
flows; While Troy's famed streams, that 
bound the deathful plain On either 
side, run purple to the main.

 Great Ajax first to conquest led the 
way, Broke the thick ranks, and turn'd 
the doubtful day. The Thracian Acamas 
his falchion found, And hew'd the 
enormous giant to the ground; His 
thundering arm a deadly stroke 
impress'd Where the black horse-hair 
nodded o'er his crest; Fix'd in his 
front the brazen weapon lies, And seals 
in endless shades his swimming eyes. 
Next Teuthras' son distain'd the sands 
with blood, Axylus, hospitable, rich, 
and good: In fair Arisbe's walls (his 
native place)(161) He held his seat! a 
friend to human race. Fast by the road, 
his ever-open door Obliged the wealthy, 
and relieved the poor. To stern Tydides 
now he falls a prey, No friend to guard 
him in the dreadful day! Breathless the 
good man fell, and by his side His 
faithful servant, old Calesius died.

 By great Euryalus was Dresus slain, 
And next he laid Opheltius on the 
plain. Two twins were near, bold, 
beautiful, and young, From a fair naiad 
and Bucolion sprung: (Laomedon's white 
flocks Bucolion fed, That monarch's 
first-born by a foreign bed; In secret 
woods he won the naiad's grace, And two 
fair infants crown'd his strong 
embrace:) Here dead they lay in all 
their youthful charms; The ruthless 
victor stripp'd their shining arms.

 Astyalus by Polypoetes fell; Ulysses' 
spear Pidytes sent to hell; By Teucer's 
shaft brave Aretaon bled, And Nestor's 
son laid stern Ablerus dead; Great 
Agamemnon, leader of the brave, The 
mortal wound of rich Elatus gave, Who 
held in Pedasus his proud abode,(162) 
And till'd the banks where silver 
Satnio flow'd. Melanthius by Eurypylus 
was slain; And Phylacus from Leitus 
flies in vain.

 Unbless'd Adrastus next at mercy lies 
Beneath the Spartan spear, a living 
prize. Scared with the din and tumult 
of the fight, His headlong steeds, 
precipitate in flight, Rush'd on a 
tamarisk's strong trunk, and broke The 
shatter'd chariot from the crooked 
yoke; Wide o'er the field, resistless 
as the wind, For Troy they fly, and 
leave their lord behind. Prone on his 
face he sinks beside the wheel: Atrides 
o'er him shakes his vengeful steel; The 
fallen chief in suppliant posture 
press'd The victor's knees, and thus 
his prayer address'd:

 "O spare my youth, and for the life I 
owe Large gifts of price my father 
shall bestow. When fame shall tell, 
that, not in battle slain, Thy hollow 
ships his captive son detain: Rich 
heaps of brass shall in thy tent be 
told,(163) And steel well-temper'd, and 
persuasive gold."

 He said: compassion touch'd the hero's 
heart He stood, suspended 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!(164) Shall these, 
shall these Atrides' mercy find? Well 
hast thou known proud Troy's perfidious 
land, And well her natives merit at thy 
hand! Not one of all the race, nor sex, 
nor age, Shall save a Trojan from our 
boundless rage: Ilion shall perish 
whole, and bury all; Her babes, her 
infants at the breast, shall fall;(165) 
A dreadful lesson of exampled fate, To 
warn the nations, and to curb the 
great!"

 The monarch spoke; the words, with 
warmth address'd, To rigid justice 
steel'd his brother's breast Fierce 
from his knees the hapless chief he 
thrust; The monarch's javelin stretch'd 
him in the dust, Then pressing with his 
foot his panting heart, Forth from the 
slain he tugg'd the reeking dart. Old 
Nestor saw, and roused the warrior's 
rage; "Thus, heroes! thus the vigorous 
combat wage; No son 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 
acquired, And frighted Troy within her 
walls, retired, Had not sage Helenus 
her state redress'd, Taught by the gods 
that moved his sacred breast. Where 
Hector stood, with great Ćneas join'd, 
The seer reveal'd the counsels of his 
mind:

 "Ye generous chiefs! on whom the 
immortals lay The cares and glories of 
this doubtful day; On whom your aids, 
your country's hopes depend; Wise to 
consult, and active to defend! Here, at 
our gates, your brave efforts unite, 
Turn back the routed, and forbid the 
flight, Ere yet their wives' soft arms 
the cowards gain, The sport and insult 
of the hostile train. When your 
commands have hearten'd every band, 
Ourselves, here fix'd, will make the 
dangerous stand; Press'd as we are, and 
sore 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 
the assembled train Of Troy's chief 
matrons to Minerva's fane;(166) Unbar 
the sacred gates, and seek the power, 
With offer'd vows, in Ilion's topmost 
tower. The largest mantle her rich 
wardrobes hold, Most prized 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 so the power, atoned 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 hosts to dread, 
Sprung though he was from more than 
mortal bed; Not thus resistless ruled 
the stream 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 
host inspiring force he flies, And bids 
the thunder of the battle rise. With 
rage recruited the bold Trojans glow, 
And turn the tide of conflict on the 
foe: Fierce in the front he shakes two 
dazzling spears; All Greece recedes, 
and 'midst her triumphs fears; Some 
god, they thought, who ruled the fate 
of wars, Shot down avenging from the 
vault of stars.

 Then thus aloud: "Ye dauntless 
Dardans, hear! And you whom distant 
nations send to war! Be mindful of the 
strength your fathers bore; Be still 
yourselves, and Hector asks no more. 
One hour demands me in the Trojan wall, 
To bid our altars flame, and victims 
fall: Nor shall, I trust, the matrons' 
holy train, And reverend elders, seek 
the gods in vain."

 This said, with ample strides the hero 
pass'd; The shield's large orb behind 
his shoulder cast, His neck 
o'ershading, to his ankle hung; And as 
he march'd the brazen buckler rung.

 Now paused the battle (godlike Hector 
gone),(167) Where daring Glaucus and 
great Tydeus' son Between both armies 
met: the chiefs from far Observed 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 
the embattled field; Yet far before the 
troops thou dar'st appear, And meet a 
lance the fiercest heroes fear. Unhappy 
they, and born of luckless sires, Who 
tempt our fury when Minerva fires! But 
if from heaven, celestial, thou 
descend, 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 Nyssa's sacred 
grove: Their consecrated spears lay 
scatter'd round, With curling vines and 
twisted ivy bound; While Bacchus 
headlong sought the briny flood, And 
Thetis' arms received the trembling 
god. Nor fail'd the crime the 
immortals' wrath to move; (The 
immortals bless'd with endless ease 
above;) Deprived of sight by their 
avenging doom, Cheerless he breathed, 
and wander'd in the gloom, Then sunk 
unpitied to the dire abodes, A wretch 
accursed, and hated by the gods! I 
brave not heaven: but if the fruits of 
earth Sustain 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 
sire, (Replied the chief,) can Tydeus' 
son inquire? Like leaves on trees the 
race of man is found, Now green in 
youth, now withering on the ground; 
Another race the following spring 
supplies; They fall successive, and 
successive rise: So generations in 
their course decay; So flourish these, 
when those are pass'd away. But if thou 
still persist 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,) Aeolian Sisyphus, with 
wisdom bless'd, In ancient time the 
happy wall possess'd, Then call'd 
Ephyre: Glaucus was his son; Great 
Glaucus, father of Bellerophon, Who 
o'er the sons of men in beauty shined, 
Loved for that valour which preserves 
mankind. Then mighty Praetus Argos' 
sceptre sway'd, Whose hard commands 
Bellerophon obey'd. With direful 
jealousy the monarch raged, And the 
brave prince in numerous toils engaged. 
For him Antaea burn'd with lawless 
flame, And strove to tempt him from the 
paths of fame: In vain she tempted the 
relentless youth, Endued with wisdom, 
sacred fear, and truth. Fired at his 
scorn the queen to Praetus fled, And 
begg'd revenge for her insulted bed: 
Incensed he heard, resolving on his 
fate; But hospitable laws restrain'd 
his hate: To Lycia the devoted youth he 
sent, With tablets seal'd, that told 
his dire intent.(168) Now bless'd by 
every power who guards the good, The 
chief arrived at Xanthus' silver flood: 
There Lycia's monarch paid him honours 
due, Nine days he feasted, and nine 
bulls he slew. But when the tenth 
bright morning orient glow'd, The 
faithful youth his monarch's mandate 
show'd: The fatal tablets, till that 
instant seal'd, The deathful secret to 
the king reveal'd. First, dire 
Chimaera's conquest was enjoin'd; A 
mingled monster of no mortal kind! 
Behind, a dragon's fiery tail was 
spread; A goat's rough body bore a 
lion's head; Her pitchy nostrils flaky 
flames expire; Her gaping throat emits 
infernal fire.

 "This pest he slaughter'd, (for he 
read the skies, And trusted heaven's 
informing prodigies,) Then met in arms 
the Solymaean crew,(169) (Fiercest of 
men,) and those the warrior slew; Next 
the bold Amazons' whole force defied; 
And conquer'd still, for heaven was on 
his side.

 "Nor ended here his toils: his Lycian 
foes, At his return, a treacherous 
ambush rose, With levell'd spears along 
the winding shore: There fell they 
breathless, and return'd no more.

 "At length the monarch, with repentant 
grief, Confess'd the gods, and 
god-descended chief; His daughter gave, 
the stranger to detain, With half the 
honours of his ample reign: The Lycians 
grant a chosen space of ground, With 
woods, with vineyards, and with 
harvests crown'd. There long the chief 
his happy lot possess'd, With two brave 
sons and one fair daughter bless'd; 
(Fair e'en in heavenly eyes: her 
fruitful love Crown'd with Sarpedon's 
birth the embrace of Jove;) But when at 
last, distracted in his mind, Forsook 
by heaven, forsaking humankind, Wide 
o'er the Aleian field he chose to 
stray, A long, forlorn, uncomfortable 
way!(170) Woes heap'd on woes consumed 
his wasted heart: His beauteous 
daughter fell by Phoebe's dart; His 
eldest born by raging Mars was slain, 
In combat on the Solymaean plain. 
Hippolochus survived: from him I came, 
The honour'd author of my birth and 
name; By his decree I sought the Trojan 
town; By his instructions learn to win 
renown, To stand the first in worth as 
in command, To add new honours to my 
native land, Before my eyes my mighty 
sires to place, And emulate the glories 
of our race."

 He spoke, and transport fill'd 
Tydides' heart; In earth the generous 
warrior fix'd his dart, Then friendly, 
thus the Lycian prince address'd: 
"Welcome, my brave hereditary guest! 
Thus ever let us meet, with kind 
embrace, Nor stain the sacred 
friendship of our race. Know, chief, 
our grandsires have been guests of old; 
OEneus the strong, Bellerophon the 
bold: Our ancient seat his honour'd 
presence graced, Where twenty days in 
genial rites he pass'd. The parting 
heroes mutual presents left; A golden 
goblet was thy grandsire's gift; OEneus 
a belt of matchless work bestowed, That 
rich with Tyrian dye refulgent glow'd. 
(This from his pledge I learn'd, which, 
safely stored Among my treasures, still 
adorns my board: For Tydeus left me 
young, when Thebe's wall Beheld the 
sons of Greece untimely fall.) Mindful 
of this, in friendship let us join; If 
heaven our steps to foreign lands 
incline, My guest in Argos thou, and I 
in Lycia thine. Enough of Trojans to 
this lance shall yield, In the full 
harvest of yon ample field; Enough of 
Greeks shall dye thy spear with gore; 
But thou and Diomed be foes no more. 
Now change we arms, and prove to either 
host We guard the friendship of the 
line we boast."

 Thus having said, the gallant chiefs 
alight, Their hands they join, their 
mutual faith they plight; Brave Glaucus 
then each narrow thought resign'd, 
(Jove warm'd his bosom, and enlarged 
his mind,) For Diomed's brass arms, of 
mean device, For which nine oxen paid, 
(a vulgar price,) He gave his own, of 
gold divinely wrought,(171) A hundred 
beeves the shining purchase bought.

 Meantime the guardian of the Trojan 
state, Great Hector, enter'd at the 
Scaean gate.(172) Beneath the 
beech-tree's consecrated shades, The 
Trojan matrons and the Trojan maids 
Around him flock'd, all press'd with 
pious care For husbands, brothers, 
sons, engaged in war. He bids the train 
in long procession go, And seek the 
gods, to avert the impending woe. And 
now to Priam's stately courts he came, 
Rais'd on arch'd columns of stupendous 
frame; O'er these a range of marble 
structure runs, The rich pavilions of 
his fifty sons, In fifty chambers 
lodged: and rooms of state,(173) 
Opposed to those, where Priam's 
daughters sate. Twelve domes for them 
and their loved spouses shone, Of equal 
beauty, and of polish'd stone. Hither 
great Hector pass'd, nor pass'd unseen 
Of royal Hecuba, his mother-queen. 
(With her Laodice, whose beauteous face 
Surpass'd the nymphs of Troy's 
illustrious race.) Long in a strict 
embrace she held her son, And press'd 
his hand, and tender thus begun:

 "O Hector! say, what great occasion 
calls My son from fight, when Greece 
surrounds our walls; Com'st thou to 
supplicate the almighty power With 
lifted hands, from Ilion's lofty tower? 
Stay, till I bring the cup with Bacchus 
crown'd, In Jove's high name, to 
sprinkle on the ground, And pay due 
vows to all the gods around. Then with 
a plenteous draught refresh thy soul, 
And draw new spirits from the generous 
bowl; Spent as thou art with long 
laborious fight, The brave defender of 
thy country's right."

 "Far hence be Bacchus' gifts; (the 
chief rejoin'd;) Inflaming wine, 
pernicious to mankind, Unnerves the 
limbs, and dulls the noble mind. Let 
chiefs abstain, and spare the sacred 
juice To sprinkle to the gods, its 
better use. By me that holy office were 
profaned; Ill fits it me, with human 
gore distain'd, To the pure skies these 
horrid hands to raise, Or offer 
heaven's great Sire polluted praise. 
You, with your matrons, go! a spotless 
train, And burn rich odours in 
Minerva's fane. The largest mantle your 
full wardrobes hold, Most prized for 
art, and labour'd o'er with gold, 
Before the goddess' honour'd knees be 
spread, And twelve young heifers to her 
altar led. So may the power, atoned by 
fervent prayer, Our wives, our infants, 
and our city spare; And far avert 
Tydides' wasteful ire, Who mows whole 
troops, and makes all Troy retire. Be 
this, O mother, your religious care: I 
go to rouse soft Paris to the war; If 
yet not lost to all the sense of shame, 
The recreant warrior hear the voice of 
fame. Oh, would kind earth the hateful 
wretch embrace, That pest of Troy, that 
ruin of our race!(174) Deep to the dark 
abyss might he descend, Troy yet should 
flourish, and my sorrows end."

 This heard, she gave command: and 
summon'd came Each noble matron and 
illustrious dame. The Phrygian queen to 
her rich wardrobe went, Where treasured 
odours breathed a costly scent. There 
lay the vestures of no vulgar art, 
Sidonian maids embroider'd every part, 
Whom from soft Sidon youthful Paris 
bore, With Helen touching on the Tyrian 
shore. Here, as the queen revolved with 
careful eyes The various textures and 
the various dyes, She chose a veil that 
shone superior far, And glow'd 
refulgent as the morning star. Herself 
with this the long procession leads; 
The train majestically slow proceeds. 
Soon as to Ilion's topmost tower they 
come, And awful reach the high 
Palladian dome, Antenor's consort, fair 
Theano, waits As Pallas' priestess, and 
unbars the gates. With hands uplifted 
and imploring eyes, They fill the dome 
with supplicating cries. The priestess 
then the shining veil displays, Placed 
on Minerva's knees, and thus she prays:

 "Oh awful goddess! ever-dreadful maid, 
Troy's strong defence, unconquer'd 
Pallas, aid! Break thou Tydides' spear, 
and let him fall Prone on the dust 
before the Trojan wall! So twelve young 
heifers, guiltless of the yoke, Shall 
fill thy temple with a grateful smoke. 
But thou, atoned by penitence and 
prayer, Ourselves, our infants, and our 
city spare!" So pray'd the priestess in 
her holy fane; So vow'd the matrons, 
but they vow'd in vain.

 While these appear before the power 
with prayers, Hector to Paris' lofty 
dome repairs.(175) Himself the mansion 
raised, from every part Assembling 
architects of matchless art. Near 
Priam's court and Hector's palace 
stands The pompous structure, and the 
town commands. A spear the hero bore of 
wondrous strength, Of full ten cubits 
was the lance's length, The steely 
point with golden ringlets join'd, 
Before him brandish'd, at each motion 
shined Thus entering, in the glittering 
rooms he found His brother-chief, whose 
useless arms lay round, His eyes 
delighting with their splendid show, 
Brightening the shield, and polishing 
the bow. Beside him Helen with her 
virgins stands, Guides their rich 
labours, and instructs their hands.

 Him thus inactive, with an ardent look 
The prince beheld, and high-resenting 
spoke. "Thy hate to Troy, is this the 
time to show? (O wretch ill-fated, and 
thy country's foe!) Paris and Greece 
against us both conspire, Thy close 
resentment, and their vengeful ire. For 
thee great Ilion's guardian heroes 
fall, Till heaps of dead alone defend 
her wall, For thee the soldier bleeds, 
the matron mourns, And wasteful war in 
all its fury burns. Ungrateful man! 
deserves not this thy care, Our troops 
to hearten, and our toils to share? 
Rise, or behold the conquering flames 
ascend, And all the Phrygian glories at 
an end."

 "Brother, 'tis just, (replied the 
beauteous youth,) Thy free remonstrance 
proves thy worth and truth: Yet charge 
my absence less, O generous chief! On 
hate to Troy, than conscious shame and 
grief: Here, hid from human eyes, thy 
brother sate, And mourn'd, in secret, 
his and Ilion's fate. 'Tis now enough; 
now glory spreads her charms, And 
beauteous Helen calls her chief to 
arms. Conquest to-day my happier sword 
may bless, 'Tis man's to fight, but 
heaven's to give success. But while I 
arm, contain thy ardent mind; Or go, 
and Paris shall not lag behind."

 

 HECTOR CHIDING PARIS. 

 He said, nor answer'd Priam's warlike 
son; When Helen thus with lowly grace 
begun:

 "Oh, generous brother! (if the guilty 
dame That caused these woes deserve a 
sister's name!) Would heaven, ere all 
these dreadful deeds were done, The day 
that show'd me to the golden sun Had 
seen my death! why did not whirlwinds 
bear The fatal infant to the fowls of 
air? Why sunk I not beneath the 
whelming tide, And midst the roarings 
of the waters died? Heaven fill'd up 
all my ills, and I accursed Bore all, 
and Paris of those ills the worst. 
Helen at least a braver spouse might 
claim, Warm'd with some virtue, some 
regard of fame! Now tired with toils, 
thy fainting limbs recline, With toils, 
sustain'd for Paris' sake and mine The 
gods have link'd our miserable doom, 
Our present woe, and infamy to come: 
Wide shall it spread, and last through 
ages long, Example sad! and theme of 
future song."

 The chief replied: "This time forbids 
to rest; The Trojan bands, by hostile 
fury press'd, Demand their Hector, and 
his arm require; The combat urges, and 
my soul's on fire. Urge thou thy knight 
to march where glory calls, And timely 
join me, ere I leave the walls. Ere yet 
I mingle in the direful fray, My wife, 
my infant, claim a moment's stay; This 
day (perhaps the last that sees me 
here) Demands a parting word, a tender 
tear: This day, some god who hates our 
Trojan land May vanquish Hector by a 
Grecian hand."

 He said, and pass'd with sad presaging 
heart To seek his spouse, his soul's 
far dearer part; At home he sought her, 
but he sought in vain; She, with one 
maid of all her menial train, Had hence 
retired; and with her second joy, The 
young Astyanax, the hope of Troy, 
Pensive she stood on Ilion's towery 
height, Beheld the war, and sicken'd at 
the sight; There her sad eyes in vain 
her lord explore, Or weep the wounds 
her bleeding country bore.

 But he who found not whom his soul 
desired, Whose virtue charm'd him as 
her beauty fired, Stood in the gates, 
and ask'd "what way she bent Her 
parting step? If to the fane she went, 
Where late the mourning matrons made 
resort; Or sought her sisters in the 
Trojan court?" "Not to the court, 
(replied the attendant train,) Nor 
mix'd with matrons to Minerva's fane: 
To Ilion's steepy tower she bent her 
way, To mark the fortunes of the 
doubtful day. Troy fled, she heard, 
before the Grecian sword; She heard, 
and trembled for her absent lord: 
Distracted with surprise, she seem'd to 
fly, Fear on her cheek, and sorrow m 
her eye. The nurse attended with her 
infant boy, The young Astyanax, the 
hope of Troy."

 Hector this heard, return'd without 
delay; Swift through the town he trod 
his former way, Through streets of 
palaces, and walks of state; And met 
the mourner at the Scaean gate. With 
haste to meet him sprung the joyful 
fair. His blameless wife, Aetion's 
wealthy heir: (Cilician Thebe great 
Aetion sway'd, And Hippoplacus' wide 
extended shade:) The nurse stood near, 
in whose embraces press'd, His only 
hope hung smiling at her breast, Whom 
each soft charm and early grace adorn, 
Fair as the new-born star that gilds 
the morn. To this loved infant Hector 
gave the name Scamandrius, from 
Scamander's honour'd stream; Astyanax 
the Trojans call'd the boy, From his 
great father, the defence of Troy. 
Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased 
resign'd To tender passions all his 
mighty mind; His beauteous princess 
cast a mournful look, Hung on his hand, 
and then dejected spoke; Her bosom 
laboured with a boding sigh, And the 
big tear stood trembling in her eye. 

 THE MEETING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. 

 "Too daring prince! ah, whither dost 
thou run? Ah, too forgetful of thy wife 
and son! And think'st thou not how 
wretched we shall be, A widow I, a 
helpless orphan he? For sure such 
courage length of life denies, And thou 
must fall, thy virtue's sacrifice. 
Greece in her single heroes strove in 
vain; Now hosts oppose thee, and thou 
must be slain. O grant me, gods, ere 
Hector meets his doom, All I can ask of 
heaven, an early tomb! So shall my days 
in one sad tenor run, And end with 
sorrows as they first begun. No parent 
now remains my griefs to share, No 
father's aid, no mother's tender care. 
The fierce Achilles wrapt our walls in 
fire, Laid Thebe waste, and slew my 
warlike sire! His fate compassion in 
the victor bred; Stern as he was, he 
yet revered the dead, His radiant arms 
preserved from hostile spoil, And laid 
him decent on the funeral pile; Then 
raised a mountain where his bones were 
burn'd, The mountain-nymphs the rural 
tomb adorn'd, Jove's sylvan daughters 
bade their elms bestow A barren shade, 
and in his honour grow.

 "By the same arm my seven brave 
brothers fell; In one sad day beheld 
the gates of hell; While the fat herds 
and snowy flocks they fed, Amid their 
fields the hapless heroes bled! My 
mother lived to wear the victor's 
bands, The queen of Hippoplacia's 
sylvan lands: Redeem'd too late, she 
scarce beheld again Her pleasing empire 
and her native plain, When ah! 
oppress'd by life-consuming woe, She 
fell a victim to Diana's bow.

 "Yet while my Hector still survives, I 
see My father, mother, brethren, all, 
in thee: Alas! my parents, brothers, 
kindred, all Once more will perish, if 
my Hector fall, Thy wife, thy infant, 
in thy danger share: Oh, prove a 
husband's and a father's care! That 
quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, 
Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall 
of Troy; Thou, from this tower defend 
the important post; There Agamemnon 
points his dreadful host, That pass 
Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain, And 
there the vengeful Spartan fires his 
train. Thrice our bold foes the fierce 
attack have given, Or led by hopes, or 
dictated from heaven. Let others in the 
field their arms employ, But stay my 
Hector here, and guard his Troy."

 The chief replied: "That post shall be 
my care, Not that alone, but all the 
works of war. How would the sons of 
Troy, in arms renown'd, And Troy's 
proud dames, whose garments sweep the 
ground Attaint the lustre of my former 
name, Should Hector basely quit the 
field of fame? My early youth was bred 
to martial pains, My soul impels me to 
the embattled plains! Let me be 
foremost to defend the throne, And 
guard my father's glories, and my own.

 "Yet come it will, the day decreed by 
fates! (How my heart trembles while my 
tongue relates!) The day when thou, 
imperial Troy! must bend, And see thy 
warriors fall, thy glories end. And yet 
no dire presage so wounds my mind, My 
mother's death, the ruin of my kind, 
Not Priam's hoary hairs defiled with 
gore, Not all my brothers gasping on 
the shore; As thine, Andromache! Thy 
griefs I dread: I see thee trembling, 
weeping, captive led! In Argive looms 
our battles to design, And woes, of 
which so large a part was thine! To 
bear the victor's hard commands, or 
bring The weight of waters from 
Hyperia's spring. There while you groan 
beneath the load of life, They cry, 
'Behold the mighty Hector's wife!' Some 
haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to 
see, Imbitters all thy woes, by naming 
me. The thoughts of glory past, and 
present shame, A thousand griefs shall 
waken at the name! May I lie cold 
before that dreadful day, Press'd with 
a load of monumental clay! Thy Hector, 
wrapt in everlasting sleep, Shall 
neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee 
weep."

 Thus having spoke, the illustrious 
chief of Troy Stretch'd his fond arms 
to clasp the lovely boy. The babe clung 
crying to his nurse's breast, Scared at 
the dazzling helm, and nodding crest. 
With secret pleasure each fond parent 
smiled, And Hector hasted to relieve 
his child, The glittering terrors from 
his brows unbound, And placed the 
beaming helmet on the ground; Then 
kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in 
air, Thus to the gods preferr'd a 
father's prayer:

 "O thou! whose glory fills the 
ethereal throne, And all ye deathless 
powers! protect my son! Grant him, like 
me, to purchase just renown, To guard 
the Trojans, to defend the crown, 
Against his country's foes the war to 
wage, And rise the Hector of the future 
age! So when triumphant from successful 
toils Of heroes slain he bears the 
reeking spoils, Whole hosts may hail 
him with deserved acclaim, And say, 
'This chief transcends his father's 
fame:' While pleased amidst the general 
shouts of Troy, His mother's conscious 
heart o'erflows with joy."

 He spoke, and fondly gazing on her 
charms, Restored the pleasing burden to 
her arms; Soft on her fragrant breast 
the babe she laid, Hush'd to repose, 
and with a smile survey'd. The troubled 
pleasure soon chastised by fear, She 
mingled with a smile a tender tear. The 
soften'd chief with kind compassion 
view'd, And dried the falling drops, 
and thus pursued:

 "Andromache! my soul's far better 
part, Why with untimely sorrows heaves 
thy heart? No hostile hand can antedate 
my doom, Till fate condemns me to the 
silent tomb. Fix'd is the term to all 
the race of earth; And such the hard 
condition of our birth: No force can 
then resist, no flight can save, All 
sink alike, the fearful and the brave. 
No more--but hasten to thy tasks at 
home, There guide the spindle, and 
direct the loom: Me glory summons to 
the martial scene, The field of combat 
is the sphere for men. Where heroes 
war, the foremost place I claim, The 
first in danger as the first in fame."

 Thus having said, the glorious chief 
resumes His towery helmet, black with 
shading plumes. His princess parts with 
a prophetic sigh, Unwilling parts, and 
oft reverts her eye That stream'd at 
every look; then, moving slow, Sought 
her own palace, and indulged her woe. 
There, while her tears deplored the 
godlike man, Through all her train the 
soft infection ran; The pious maids 
their mingled sorrows shed, And mourn 
the living Hector, as the dead.

 But now, no longer deaf to honour's 
call, Forth issues Paris from the 
palace wall. In brazen arms that cast a 
gleamy ray, Swift through the town the 
warrior bends his way. The wanton 
courser thus with reins unbound(176) 
Breaks from his stall, and beats the 
trembling ground; Pamper'd and proud, 
he seeks the wonted tides, And laves, 
in height of blood his shining sides; 
His head now freed, he tosses to the 
skies; His mane dishevell'd o'er his 
shoulders flies; He snuffs the females 
in the distant plain, And springs, 
exulting, to his fields again. With 
equal triumph, sprightly, bold, and 
gay, In arms refulgent as the god of 
day, The son of Priam, glorying in his 
might, Rush'd forth with Hector to the 
fields of fight.

 And now, the warriors passing on the 
way, The graceful Paris first excused 
his stay. To whom the noble Hector thus 
replied: "O chief! in blood, and now in 
arms, allied! Thy power in war with 
justice none contest; Known is thy 
courage, and thy strength confess'd. 
What pity sloth should seize a soul so 
brave, Or godlike Paris live a woman's 
slave! My heart weeps blood at what the 
Trojans say, And hopes thy deeds shall 
wipe the stain away. Haste then, in all 
their glorious labours share, For much 
they suffer, for thy sake, in war. 
These ills shall cease, whene'er by 
Jove's decree We crown the bowl to 
heaven and liberty: While the proud foe 
his frustrate triumphs mourns, And 
Greece indignant through her seas 
returns." 

 BOWS AND BOW CASE. 

 IRIS. 

 

BOOK VII. 

ARGUMENT

THE SINGLE COMBAT OF HECTOR AND AJAX.

The battle renewing with double ardour 
upon the return of Hector, Minerva is 
under apprehensions for the Greeks. 
Apollo, seeing her descend from 
Olympus, joins her near the Scaean 
gate. They agree to put off the general 
engagement for that day, and incite 
Hector to challenge the Greeks to a 
single combat. Nine of the princes 
accepting the challenge, the lot is 
cast and falls upon Ajax. These heroes, 
after several attacks, are parted by 
the night. The Trojans calling a 
council, Antenor purposes the delivery 
of Helen to the Greeks, to which Paris 
will not consent, but offers to restore 
them her riches. Priam sends a herald 
to make this offer, and to demand a 
truce for burning the dead, the last of 
which only is agreed to by Agamemnon. 
When the funerals are performed, the 
Greeks, pursuant to the advice of 
Nestor, erect a fortification to 
protect their fleet and camp, flanked 
with towers, and defended by a ditch 
and palisades. Neptune testifies his 
jealousy at this work, but is pacified 
by a promise from Jupiter. Both armies 
pass the night in feasting but Jupiter 
disheartens the Trojans with thunder, 
and other signs of his wrath.

The three and twentieth day ends with 
the duel of Hector and Ajax, the next 
day the truce is agreed; another is 
taken up in the funeral rites of the 
slain and one more in building the 
fortification before the ships. So that 
somewhat about three days is employed 
in this book. The scene lies wholly in 
the field.

 So spoke the guardian of the Trojan 
state, Then rush'd impetuous through 
the Scaean gate. Him Paris follow'd to 
the dire alarms; Both breathing 
slaughter, both resolved in arms. As 
when to sailors labouring through the 
main, That long have heaved the weary 
oar in vain, Jove bids at length the 
expected gales arise; The gales blow 
grateful, and the vessel flies. So 
welcome these to Troy's desiring train, 
The bands are cheer'd, the war awakes 
again.

 Bold Paris first the work of death 
begun On great Menestheus, Areithous' 
son, Sprung from the fair Philomeda's 
embrace, The pleasing Arne was his 
native place. Then sunk Eioneus to the 
shades below, Beneath his steely casque 
he felt the blow(177) Full on his neck, 
from Hector's weighty hand; And roll'd, 
with limbs relax'd, along the land. By 
Glaucus' spear the bold Iphmous bleeds, 
Fix'd in the shoulder as he mounts his 
steeds; Headlong he tumbles: his slack 
nerves unbound, Drop the cold useless 
members on the ground.

 When now Minerva saw her Argives 
slain, From vast Olympus to the 
gleaming plain Fierce she descends: 
Apollo marked her flight, Nor shot less 
swift from Ilion's towery height. 
Radiant they met, beneath the beechen 
shade; When thus Apollo to the 
blue-eyed maid:

 "What cause, O daughter of Almighty 
Jove! Thus wings thy progress from the 
realms above? Once more impetuous dost 
thou bend thy way, To give to Greece 
the long divided day? Too much has Troy 
already felt thy hate, Now breathe thy 
rage, and hush the stern debate; This 
day, the business of the field suspend; 
War soon shall kindle, and great Ilion 
bend; Since vengeful goddesses 
confederate join To raze her walls, 
though built by hands divine."

 To whom the progeny of Jove replies: 
"I left, for this, the council of the 
skies: But who shall bid conflicting 
hosts forbear, What art shall calm the 
furious sons of war?" To her the god: 
"Great Hector's soul incite To dare the 
boldest Greek to single fight, Till 
Greece, provoked, from all her numbers 
show A warrior worthy to be Hector's 
foe."

 At this agreed, the heavenly powers 
withdrew; Sage Helenus their secret 
counsels knew; Hector, inspired, he 
sought: to him address'd, Thus told the 
dictates of his sacred breast: "O son 
of Priam! let thy faithful ear Receive 
my words: thy friend and brother hear! 
Go forth persuasive, and a while engage 
The warring nations to suspend their 
rage; Then dare the boldest of the 
hostile train To mortal combat on the 
listed plain. For not this day shall 
end thy glorious date; The gods have 
spoke it, and their voice is fate."

 He said: the warrior heard the word 
with joy; Then with his spear 
restrain'd the youth of Troy, Held by 
the midst athwart. On either hand The 
squadrons part; the expecting Trojans 
stand; Great Agamemnon bids the Greeks 
forbear: They breathe, and hush the 
tumult of the war. The Athenian maid, 
and glorious god of day,(178) With 
silent joy the settling hosts survey: 
In form of vultures, on the beech's 
height They sit conceal'd, and wait the 
future fight.

 The thronging troops obscure the dusky 
fields, Horrid with bristling spears, 
and gleaming shields. As when a general 
darkness veils the main, (Soft Zephyr 
curling the wide wat'ry plain,) The 
waves scarce heave, the face of ocean 
sleeps, And a still horror saddens all 
the deeps; Thus in thick orders 
settling wide around, At length 
composed they sit, and shade the 
ground. Great Hector first amidst both 
armies broke The solemn silence, and 
their powers bespoke:

 "Hear, all ye Trojan, all ye Grecian 
bands, What my soul prompts, and what 
some god commands. Great Jove, averse 
our warfare to compose, O'erwhelms the 
nations with new toils and woes; War 
with a fiercer tide once more returns, 
Till Ilion falls, or till yon navy 
burns. You then, O princes of the 
Greeks! appear; 'Tis Hector speaks, and 
calls the gods to hear: From all your 
troops select the boldest knight, And 
him, the boldest, Hector dares to 
fight. Here if I fall, by chance of 
battle slain, Be his my spoil, and his 
these arms remain; But let my body, to 
my friends return'd, By Trojan hands 
and Trojan flames be burn'd. And if 
Apollo, in whose aid I trust, Shall 
stretch your daring champion in the 
dust; If mine the glory to despoil the 
foe; On Phoebus' temple I'll his arms 
bestow: The breathless carcase to your 
navy sent, Greece on the shore shall 
raise a monument; Which when some 
future mariner surveys, Wash'd by broad 
Hellespont's resounding seas, Thus 
shall he say, 'A valiant Greek lies 
there, By Hector slain, the mighty man 
of war,' The stone shall tell your 
vanquish'd hero's name. And distant 
ages learn the victor's fame."

 This fierce defiance Greece astonish'd 
heard, Blush'd to refuse, and to accept 
it fear'd. Stern Menelaus first the 
silence broke, And, inly groaning, thus 
opprobrious spoke:

 "Women of Greece! O scandal of your 
race, Whose coward souls your manly 
form disgrace, How great the shame, 
when every age shall know That not a 
Grecian met this noble foe! Go then! 
resolve to earth, from whence ye grew, 
A heartless, spiritless, inglorious 
crew! Be what ye seem, unanimated clay, 
Myself will dare the danger of the day; 
'Tis man's bold task the generous 
strife to try, But in the hands of God 
is victory."

 These words scarce spoke, with 
generous ardour press'd, His manly 
limbs in azure arms he dress'd. That 
day, Atrides! a superior hand Had 
stretch'd thee breathless on the 
hostile strand; But all at once, thy 
fury to compose, The kings of Greece, 
an awful band, arose; Even he their 
chief, great Agamemnon, press'd Thy 
daring hand, and this advice address'd: 
"Whither, O Menelaus! wouldst thou run, 
And tempt a fate which prudence bids 
thee shun? Grieved though thou art, 
forbear the rash design; Great Hectors 
arm is mightier far than thine: Even 
fierce Achilles learn'd its force to 
fear, And trembling met this dreadful 
son of war. Sit thou secure, amidst thy 
social band; Greece in our cause shall 
arm some powerful hand. The mightiest 
warrior of the Achaian name, Though 
bold and burning with desire of fame, 
Content the doubtful honour might 
forego, So great the danger, and so 
brave the foe."

 He said, and turn'd his brother's 
vengeful mind; He stoop'd to reason, 
and his rage resign'd, No longer bent 
to rush on certain harms; His joyful 
friends unbrace his azure arms.

 He from whose lips divine persuasion 
flows, Grave Nestor, then, in graceful 
act arose; Thus to the kings he spoke: 
"What grief, what shame Attend on 
Greece, and all the Grecian name! How 
shall, alas! her hoary heroes mourn 
Their sons degenerate, and their race a 
scorn! What tears shall down thy 
silvery beard be roll'd, O Peleus, old 
in arms, in wisdom old! Once with what 
joy the generous prince would hear Of 
every chief who fought this glorious 
war, Participate their fame, and 
pleased inquire Each name, each action, 
and each hero's sire! Gods! should he 
see our warriors trembling stand, And 
trembling all before one hostile hand; 
How would he lift his aged arms on 
high, Lament inglorious Greece, and beg 
to die! Oh! would to all the immortal 
powers above, Minerva, Phoebus, and 
almighty Jove! Years might again roll 
back, my youth renew, And give this arm 
the spring which once it knew When 
fierce in war, where Jardan's waters 
fall, I led my troops to Phea's 
trembling wall, And with the Arcadian 
spears my prowess tried, Where Celadon 
rolls down his rapid tide.(179) There 
Ereuthalion braved us in the field, 
Proud Areithous' dreadful arms to 
wield; Great Areithous, known from 
shore to shore By the huge, knotted, 
iron mace he bore; No lance he shook, 
nor bent the twanging bow, But broke, 
with this, the battle of the foe. Him 
not by manly force Lycurgus slew, Whose 
guileful javelin from the thicket flew, 
Deep in a winding way his breast 
assailed, Nor aught the warrior's 
thundering mace avail'd. Supine he 
fell: those arms which Mars before Had 
given the vanquish'd, now the victor 
bore: But when old age had dimm'd 
Lycurgus' eyes, To Ereuthalion he 
consign'd the prize. Furious with this 
he crush'd our levell'd bands, And 
dared the trial of the strongest hands; 
Nor could the strongest hands his fury 
stay: All saw, and fear'd, his huge 
tempestuous sway Till I, the youngest 
of the host, appear'd, And, youngest, 
met whom all our army fear'd. I fought 
the chief: my arms Minerva crown'd: 
Prone fell the giant o'er a length of 
ground. What then I was, O were your 
Nestor now! Not Hector's self should 
want an equal foe. But, warriors, you 
that youthful vigour boast, The flower 
of Greece, the examples of our host, 
Sprung from such fathers, who such 
numbers sway, Can you stand trembling, 
and desert the day?"

 His warm reproofs the listening kings 
inflame; And nine, the noblest of the 
Grecian name, Up-started fierce: but 
far before the rest The king of men 
advanced his dauntless breast: Then 
bold Tydides, great in arms, appear'd; 
And next his bulk gigantic Ajax rear'd; 
Oileus follow'd; Idomen was there,(180) 
And Merion, dreadful as the god of war: 
With these Eurypylus and Thoas stand, 
And wise Ulysses closed the daring 
band. All these, alike inspired with 
noble rage, Demand the fight. To whom 
the Pylian sage:

 "Lest thirst of glory your brave souls 
divide, What chief shall combat, let 
the gods decide. Whom heaven shall 
choose, be his the chance to raise His 
country's fame, his own immortal 
praise."

 The lots produced, each hero signs his 
own: Then in the general's helm the 
fates are thrown,(181) The people pray, 
with lifted eyes and hands, And vows 
like these ascend from all the bands: 
"Grant, thou Almighty! in whose hand is 
fate, A worthy champion for the Grecian 
state: This task let Ajax or Tydides 
prove, Or he, the king of kings, 
beloved by Jove." Old Nestor shook the 
casque. By heaven inspired, Leap'd 
forth the lot, of every Greek desired. 
This from the right to left the herald 
bears, Held out in order to the Grecian 
peers; Each to his rival yields the 
mark unknown, Till godlike Ajax finds 
the lot his own; Surveys the 
inscription with rejoicing eyes, Then 
casts before him, and with transport 
cries:

 "Warriors! I claim the lot, and arm 
with joy; Be mine the conquest of this 
chief of Troy. Now while my brightest 
arms my limbs invest, To Saturn's son 
be all your vows address'd: But pray in 
secret, lest the foes should hear, And 
deem your prayers the mean effect of 
fear. Said I in secret? No, your vows 
declare In such a voice as fills the 
earth and air, Lives there a chief whom 
Ajax ought to dread? Ajax, in all the 
toils of battle bred! From warlike 
Salamis I drew my birth, And, born to 
combats, fear no force on earth."

 He said. The troops with elevated 
eyes, Implore the god whose thunder 
rends the skies: "O father of mankind, 
superior lord! On lofty Ida's holy hill 
adored: Who in the highest heaven hast 
fix'd thy throne, Supreme of gods! 
unbounded and alone: Grant thou, that 
Telamon may bear away The praise and 
conquest of this doubtful day; Or, if 
illustrious Hector be thy care, That 
both may claim it, and that both may 
share."

 Now Ajax braced his dazzling armour 
on; Sheathed in bright steel the 
giant-warrior shone: He moves to combat 
with majestic pace; So stalks in arms 
the grisly god of Thrace,(182) When 
Jove to punish faithless men prepares, 
And gives whole nations to the waste of 
wars, Thus march'd the chief, 
tremendous as a god; Grimly he smiled; 
earth trembled as he strode:(183) His 
massy javelin quivering in his hand, He 
stood, the bulwark of the Grecian band. 
Through every Argive heart new 
transport ran; All Troy stood trembling 
at the mighty man: Even Hector paused; 
and with new doubt oppress'd, Felt his 
great heart suspended in his breast: 
'Twas vain to seek retreat, and vain to 
fear; Himself had challenged, and the 
foe drew near.

 Stern Telamon behind his ample shield, 
As from a brazen tower, o'erlook'd the 
field. Huge was its orb, with seven 
thick folds o'ercast, Of tough 
bull-hides; of solid brass the last, 
(The work of Tychius, who in Hyle 
dwell'd And in all arts of armoury 
excell'd,) This Ajax bore before his 
manly breast, And, threatening, thus 
his adverse chief address'd:

 "Hector! approach my arm, and singly 
know What strength thou hast, and what 
the Grecian foe. Achilles shuns the 
fight; yet some there are, Not void of 
soul, and not unskill'd in war: Let 
him, unactive on the sea-beat shore, 
Indulge his wrath, and aid our arms no 
more; Whole troops of heroes Greece has 
yet to boast, And sends thee one, a 
sample of her host, Such as I am, I 
come to prove thy might; No more--be 
sudden, and begin the fight."

 "O son of Telamon, thy country's 
pride! (To Ajax thus the Trojan prince 
replied) Me, as a boy, or woman, 
wouldst thou fright, New to the field, 
and trembling at the fight? Thou 
meet'st a chief deserving of thy arms, 
To combat born, and bred amidst alarms: 
I know to shift my ground, remount the 
car, Turn, charge, and answer every 
call of war; To right, to left, the 
dexterous lance I wield, And bear thick 
battle on my sounding shield But open 
be our fight, and bold each blow; I 
steal no conquest from a noble foe."

 He said, and rising, high above the 
field Whirl'd the long lance against 
the sevenfold shield. Full on the brass 
descending from above Through six 
bull-hides the furious weapon drove, 
Till in the seventh it fix'd. Then Ajax 
threw; Through Hector's shield the 
forceful javelin flew, His corslet 
enters, and his garment rends, And 
glancing downwards, near his flank 
descends. The wary Trojan shrinks, and 
bending low Beneath his buckler, 
disappoints the blow. From their bored 
shields the chiefs their javelins drew, 
Then close impetuous, and the charge 
renew; Fierce as the mountain-lions 
bathed in blood, Or foaming boars, the 
terror of the wood. At Ajax, Hector his 
long lance extends; The blunted point 
against the buckler bends; But Ajax, 
watchful as his foe drew near, Drove 
through the Trojan targe the knotty 
spear; It reach'd his neck, with 
matchless strength impell'd! Spouts the 
black gore, and dims his shining 
shield. Yet ceased not Hector thus; but 
stooping down, In his strong hand 
up-heaved a flinty stone, Black, 
craggy, vast: to this his force he 
bends; Full on the brazen boss the 
stone descends; The hollow brass 
resounded with the shock: Then Ajax 
seized the fragment of a rock, Applied 
each nerve, and swinging round on high, 
With force tempestuous, let the ruin 
fly; The huge stone thundering through 
his buckler broke: His slacken'd knees 
received the numbing stroke; Great 
Hector falls extended on the field, His 
bulk supporting on the shatter'd 
shield: Nor wanted heavenly aid: 
Apollo's might Confirm'd his sinews, 
and restored to fight. And now both 
heroes their broad falchions drew In 
flaming circles round their heads they 
flew; But then by heralds' voice the 
word was given. The sacred ministers of 
earth and heaven: Divine Talthybius, 
whom the Greeks employ. And sage Idaeus 
on the part of Troy, Between the swords 
their peaceful sceptres rear'd; And 
first Idaeus' awful voice was heard: 

 HECTOR AND AJAX SEPARATED BY THE 
HERALDS. 

 "Forbear, my sons! your further force 
to prove, Both dear to men, and both 
beloved of Jove. To either host your 
matchless worth is known, Each sounds 
your praise, and war is all your own. 
But now the Night extends her awful 
shade; The goddess parts you; be the 
night obey'd."(184)

 To whom great Ajax his high soul 
express'd: "O sage! to Hector be these 
words address'd. Let him, who first 
provoked our chiefs to fight, Let him 
demand the sanction of the night; If 
first he ask'd it, I content obey, And 
cease the strife when Hector shows the 
way."

 "O first of Greeks! (his noble foe 
rejoin'd) Whom heaven adorns, superior 
to thy kind, With strength of body, and 
with worth of mind! Now martial law 
commands us to forbear; Hereafter we 
shall meet in glorious war, Some future 
day shall lengthen out the strife, And 
let the gods decide of death or life! 
Since, then, the night extends her 
gloomy shade, And heaven enjoins it, be 
the night obey'd. Return, brave Ajax, 
to thy Grecian friends, And joy the 
nations whom thy arm defends; As I 
shall glad each chief, and Trojan wife, 
Who wearies heaven with vows for 
Hector's life. But let us, on this 
memorable day, Exchange some gift: that 
Greece and Troy may say, 'Not hate, but 
glory, made these chiefs contend; And 
each brave foe was in his soul a 
friend.'"

 With that, a sword with stars of 
silver graced, The baldric studded, and 
the sheath enchased, He gave the Greek. 
The generous Greek bestow'd A radiant 
belt that rich with purple glow'd. Then 
with majestic grace they quit the 
plain; This seeks the Grecian, that the 
Phrygian train.

 The Trojan bands returning Hector 
wait, And hail with joy the Champion of 
their state; Escaped great Ajax, they 
survey him round, Alive, unarm'd, and 
vigorous from his wound; To Troy's high 
gates the godlike man they bear Their 
present triumph, as their late despair.

 But Ajax, glorying in his hardy deed, 
The well-arm'd Greeks to Agamemnon 
lead. A steer for sacrifice the king 
design'd, Of full five years, and of 
the nobler kind. The victim falls; they 
strip the smoking hide, The beast they 
quarter, and the joints divide; Then 
spread the tables, the repast prepare, 
Each takes his seat, and each receives 
his share. The king himself (an 
honorary sign) Before great Ajax placed 
the mighty chine.(185) When now the 
rage of hunger was removed, Nestor, in 
each persuasive art approved, The sage 
whose counsels long had sway'd the 
rest, In words like these his prudent 
thought express'd:

 "How dear, O kings! this fatal day has 
cost, What Greeks are perish'd! what a 
people lost! What tides of blood have 
drench'd Scamander's shore! What crowds 
of heroes sunk to rise no more! Then 
hear me, chief! nor let the morrow's 
light Awake thy squadrons to new toils 
of fight: Some space at least permit 
the war to breathe, While we to flames 
our slaughter'd friends bequeath, From 
the red field their scatter'd bodies 
bear, And nigh the fleet a funeral 
structure rear; So decent urns their 
snowy bones may keep, And pious 
children o'er their ashes weep. Here, 
where on one promiscuous pile they 
blazed, High o'er them all a general 
tomb be raised; Next, to secure our 
camp and naval powers, Raise an 
embattled wall, with lofty towers; From 
space to space be ample gates around, 
For passing chariots; and a trench 
profound. So Greece to combat shall in 
safety go, Nor fear the fierce 
incursions of the foe." 'Twas thus the 
sage his wholesome counsel moved; The 
sceptred kings of Greece his words 
approved.

 Meanwhile, convened at Priam's 
palace-gate, The Trojan peers in 
nightly council sate; A senate void of 
order, as of choice: Their hearts were 
fearful, and confused their voice. 
Antenor, rising, thus demands their 
ear: "Ye Trojans, Dardans, and 
auxiliars, hear! 'Tis heaven the 
counsel of my breast inspires, And I 
but move what every god requires: Let 
Sparta's treasures be this hour 
restored, And Argive Helen own her 
ancient lord. The ties of faith, the 
sworn alliance, broke, Our impious 
battles the just gods provoke. As this 
advice ye practise, or reject, So hope 
success, or dread the dire effect."

 The senior spoke and sate. To whom 
replied The graceful husband of the 
Spartan bride: "Cold counsels, Trojan, 
may become thy years But sound 
ungrateful in a warrior's ears: Old 
man, if void of fallacy or art, Thy 
words express the purpose of thy heart, 
Thou, in thy time, more sound advice 
hast given; But wisdom has its date, 
assign'd by heaven. Then hear me, 
princes of the Trojan name! Their 
treasures I'll restore, but not the 
dame; My treasures too, for peace, I 
will resign; But be this bright 
possession ever mine."

 'Twas then, the growing discord to 
compose, Slow from his seat the 
reverend Priam rose: His godlike aspect 
deep attention drew: He paused, and 
these pacific words ensue:

 "Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliar 
bands! Now take refreshment as the hour 
demands; Guard well the walls, relieve 
the watch of night. Till the new sun 
restores the cheerful light. Then shall 
our herald, to the Atrides sent, Before 
their ships proclaim my son's intent. 
Next let a truce be ask'd, that Troy 
may burn Her slaughter'd heroes, and 
their bones inurn; That done, once more 
the fate of war be tried, And whose the 
conquest, mighty Jove decide!"

 The monarch spoke: the warriors 
snatch'd with haste (Each at his post 
in arms) a short repast. Soon as the 
rosy morn had waked the day, To the 
black ships Idaeus bent his way; There, 
to the sons of Mars, in council found, 
He raised his voice: the host stood 
listening round.

 "Ye sons of Atreus, and ye Greeks, 
give ear! The words of Troy, and Troy's 
great monarch, hear. Pleased may ye 
hear (so heaven succeed my prayers) 
What Paris, author of the war, 
declares. The spoils and treasures he 
to Ilion bore (Oh had he perish'd ere 
they touch'd our shore!) He proffers 
injured Greece: with large increase Of 
added Trojan wealth to buy the peace. 
But to restore the beauteous bride 
again, This Greece demands, and Troy 
requests in vain. Next, O ye chiefs! we 
ask a truce to burn Our slaughter'd 
heroes, and their bones inurn. That 
done, once more the fate of war be 
tried, And whose the conquest, mighty 
Jove decide!"

 The Greeks gave ear, but none the 
silence broke; At length Tydides rose, 
and rising spoke: "Oh, take not, 
friends! defrauded of your fame, Their 
proffer'd wealth, nor even the Spartan 
dame. Let conquest make them ours: fate 
shakes their wall, And Troy already 
totters to her fall."

 The admiring chiefs, and all the 
Grecian name, With general shouts 
return'd him loud acclaim. Then thus 
the king of kings rejects the peace: 
"Herald! in him thou hear'st the voice 
of Greece For what remains; let funeral 
flames be fed With heroes' corps: I war 
not with the dead: Go search your 
slaughtered chiefs on yonder plain, And 
gratify the manes of the slain. Be 
witness, Jove, whose thunder rolls on 
high!" He said, and rear'd his sceptre 
to the sky.

 To sacred Troy, where all her princes 
lay To wait the event, the herald bent 
his way. He came, and standing in the 
midst, explain'd The peace rejected, 
but the truce obtain'd. Straight to 
their several cares the Trojans move, 
Some search the plains, some fell the 
sounding grove: Nor less the Greeks, 
descending on the shore, Hew'd the 
green forests, and the bodies bore. And 
now from forth the chambers of the 
main, To shed his sacred light on earth 
again, Arose the golden chariot of the 
day, And tipp'd the mountains with a 
purple ray. In mingled throngs the 
Greek and Trojan train Through heaps of 
carnage search'd the mournful plain. 
Scarce could the friend his slaughter'd 
friend explore, With dust dishonour'd, 
and deformed with gore. The wounds they 
wash'd, their pious tears they shed, 
And, laid along their cars, deplored 
the dead. Sage Priam check'd their 
grief: with silent haste The bodies 
decent on the piles were placed: With 
melting hearts the cold remains they 
burn'd, And, sadly slow, to sacred Troy 
return'd. Nor less the Greeks their 
pious sorrows shed, And decent on the 
pile dispose the dead; The cold remains 
consume with equal care; And slowly, 
sadly, to their fleet repair. Now, ere 
the morn had streak'd with reddening 
light The doubtful confines of the day 
and night, About the dying flames the 
Greeks appear'd, And round the pile a 
general tomb they rear'd. Then, to 
secure the camp and naval powers, They 
raised embattled walls with lofty 
towers:(186) From space to space were 
ample gates around, For passing 
chariots, and a trench profound Of 
large extent; and deep in earth below, 
Strong piles infix'd stood adverse to 
the foe.

 So toil'd the Greeks: meanwhile the 
gods above, In shining circle round 
their father Jove, Amazed beheld the 
wondrous works of man: Then he, whose 
trident shakes the earth, began:

 "What mortals henceforth shall our 
power adore, Our fanes frequent, our 
oracles implore, If the proud Grecians 
thus successful boast Their rising 
bulwarks on the sea-beat coast? See the 
long walls extending to the main, No 
god consulted, and no victim slain! 
Their fame shall fill the world's 
remotest ends, Wide as the morn her 
golden beam extends; While old 
Laomedon's divine abodes, Those radiant 
structures raised by labouring gods, 
Shall, razed and lost, in long oblivion 
sleep." Thus spoke the hoary monarch of 
the deep.

 The almighty Thunderer with a frown 
replies, That clouds the world, and 
blackens half the skies: "Strong god of 
ocean! thou, whose rage can make The 
solid earth's eternal basis shake! What 
cause of fear from mortal works could 
move(187) The meanest subject of our 
realms above? Where'er the sun's 
refulgent rays are cast, Thy power is 
honour'd, and thy fame shall last. But 
yon proud work no future age shall 
view, No trace remain where once the 
glory grew. The sapp'd foundations by 
thy force shall fall, And, whelm'd 
beneath the waves, drop the huge wall: 
Vast drifts of sand shall change the 
former shore: The ruin vanish'd, and 
the name no more."

 Thus they in heaven: while, o'er the 
Grecian train, The rolling sun 
descending to the main Beheld the 
finish'd work. Their bulls they slew; 
Back from the tents the savoury vapour 
flew. And now the fleet, arrived from 
Lemnos' strands, With Bacchus' 
blessings cheered the generous bands. 
Of fragrant wines the rich Eunaeus sent 
A thousant measures to the royal tent. 
(Eunaeus, whom Hypsipyle of yore To 
Jason, shepherd of his people, bore,) 
The rest they purchased at their proper 
cost, And well the plenteous freight 
supplied the host: Each, in exchange, 
proportion'd treasures gave;(188) Some, 
brass or iron; some, an ox, or slave. 
All night they feast, the Greek and 
Trojan powers: Those on the fields, and 
these within their towers. But Jove 
averse the signs of wrath display'd, 
And shot red lightnings through the 
gloomy shade: Humbled they stood; pale 
horror seized on all, While the deep 
thunder shook the aerial hall. Each 
pour'd to Jove before the bowl was 
crown'd; And large libations drench'd 
the thirsty ground: Then late, 
refresh'd with sleep from toils of 
fight, Enjoy'd the balmy blessings of 
the night. 

 GREEK AMPHORA--WINE VESSELS. 

 

BOOK VIII. 

ARGUMENT.

THE SECOND BATTLE, AND THE DISTRESS OF 
THE GREEKS.

Jupiter assembles a council of the 
deities, and threatens them with the 
pains of Tartarus if they assist either 
side: Minerva only obtains of him that 
she may direct the Greeks by her 
counsels.(189) his balances the fates 
of both, and affrights the Greeks with 
his thunders and lightnings. Nestor 
alone continues in the field in great 
danger: Diomed relieves him; whose 
exploits, and those of Hector, are 
excellently described. Juno endeavours 
to animate Neptune to the assistance of 
the Greeks, but in vain. The acts of 
Teucer, who is at length wounded by 
Hector, and carried off. Juno and 
Minerva prepare to aid the Grecians, 
but are restrained by Iris, sent from 
Jupiter. The night puts an end to the 
battle. Hector continues in the field, 
(the Greeks being driven to their 
fortifications before the ships,) and 
gives orders to keep the watch all 
night in the camp, to prevent the enemy 
from re-embarking and escaping by 
flight. They kindle fires through all 
the fields, and pass the night under 
arms.

The time of seven and twenty days is 
employed from the opening of the poem 
to the end of this book. The scene here 
(except of the celestial machines) lies 
in the field towards the seashore.

 Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn, 
Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy 
lawn; When Jove convened the senate of 
the skies, Where high Olympus' cloudy 
tops arise, The sire of gods his awful 
silence broke; The heavens attentive 
trembled as he spoke:

 "Celestial states! immortal gods! give 
ear, Hear our decree, and reverence 
what ye hear; The fix'd decree which 
not all heaven can move; Thou, fate! 
fulfil it! and, ye powers, approve! 
What god but enters yon forbidden 
field, Who yields assistance, or but 
wills to yield, Back to the skies with 
shame he shall be driven, Gash'd with 
dishonest wounds, the scorn of heaven; 
Or far, oh far, from steep Olympus 
thrown, Low in the dark Tartarean gulf 
shall groan, With burning chains fix'd 
to the brazen floors, And lock'd by 
hell's inexorable doors; As deep 
beneath the infernal centre 
hurl'd,(190) As from that centre to the 
ethereal world. Let him who tempts me, 
dread those dire abodes: And know, the 
Almighty is the god of gods. League all 
your forces, then, ye powers above, 
Join all, and try the omnipotence of 
Jove. Let down our golden everlasting 
chain(191) Whose strong embrace holds 
heaven, and earth, and main Strive all, 
of mortal and immortal birth, To drag, 
by this, the Thunderer down to earth Ye 
strive in vain! if I but stretch this 
hand, I heave the gods, the ocean, and 
the land; I fix the chain to great 
Olympus' height, And the vast world 
hangs trembling in my sight! For such I 
reign, unbounded and above; And such 
are men, and gods, compared to Jove."

 The all-mighty spoke, nor durst the 
powers reply: A reverend horror 
silenced all the sky; Trembling they 
stood before their sovereign's look; At 
length his best-beloved, the power of 
wisdom, spoke:

 "O first and greatest! God, by gods 
adored We own thy might, our father and 
our lord! But, ah! permit to pity human 
state: If not to help, at least lament 
their fate. From fields forbidden we 
submiss refrain, With arms unaiding 
mourn our Argives slain; Yet grant my 
counsels still their breasts may move, 
Or all must perish in the wrath of 
Jove."

 The cloud-compelling god her suit 
approved, And smiled superior on his 
best beloved; Then call'd his coursers, 
and his chariot took; The stedfast 
firmament beneath them shook: Rapt by 
the ethereal steeds the chariot roll'd; 
Brass were their hoofs, their curling 
manes of gold: Of heaven's undrossy 
gold the gods array, Refulgent, flash'd 
intolerable day. High on the throne he 
shines: his coursers fly Between the 
extended earth and starry sky. But when 
to Ida's topmost height he came, (Fair 
nurse of fountains, and of savage 
game,) Where o'er her pointed summits 
proudly raised, His fane breathed 
odours, and his altar blazed: There, 
from his radiant car, the sacred sire 
Of gods and men released the steeds of 
fire: Blue ambient mists the immortal 
steeds embraced; High on the cloudy 
point his seat he placed; Thence his 
broad eye the subject world surveys, 
The town, and tents, and navigable seas.

 Now had the Grecians snatch'd a short 
repast, And buckled on their shining 
arms with haste. Troy roused as soon; 
for on this dreadful day The fate of 
fathers, wives, and infants lay. The 
gates unfolding pour forth all their 
train; Squadrons on squadrons cloud the 
dusky plain: Men, steeds, and chariots 
shake the trembling ground, The tumult 
thickens, and the skies resound; And 
now with shouts the shocking armies 
closed, To lances lances, shields to 
shields opposed, Host against host with 
shadowy legends drew, The sounding 
darts in iron tempests flew; Victors 
and vanquish'd join promiscuous cries, 
Triumphant shouts and dying groans 
arise; With streaming blood the 
slippery fields are dyed, And 
slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful 
tide. Long as the morning beams, 
increasing bright, O'er heaven's clear 
azure spread the sacred light, 
Commutual death the fate of war 
confounds, Each adverse battle gored 
with equal wounds. But when the sun the 
height of heaven ascends, The sire of 
gods his golden scales suspends,(192) 
With equal hand: in these explored the 
fate Of Greece and Troy, and poised the 
mighty weight: Press'd with its load, 
the Grecian balance lies Low sunk on 
earth, the Trojan strikes the skies. 
Then Jove from Ida's top his horrors 
spreads; The clouds burst dreadful o'er 
the Grecian heads; Thick lightnings 
flash; the muttering thunder rolls; 
Their strength he withers, and unmans 
their souls. Before his wrath the 
trembling hosts retire; The gods in 
terrors, and the skies on fire. Nor 
great Idomeneus that sight could bear, 
Nor each stern Ajax, thunderbolts of 
war: Nor he, the king of war, the alarm 
sustain'd Nestor alone, amidst the 
storm remain'd. Unwilling he remain'd, 
for Paris' dart Had pierced his courser 
in a mortal part; Fix'd in the 
forehead, where the springing man 
Curl'd o'er the brow, it stung him to 
the brain; Mad with his anguish, he 
begins to rear, Paw with his hoofs 
aloft, and lash the air. Scarce had his 
falchion cut the reins, and freed The 
encumber'd chariot from the dying 
steed, When dreadful Hector, thundering 
through the war, Pour'd to the tumult 
on his whirling car. That day had 
stretch'd beneath his matchless hand 
The hoary monarch of the Pylian band, 
But Diomed beheld; from forth the crowd 
He rush'd, and on Ulysses call'd aloud:

 "Whither, oh whither does Ulysses run? 
Oh, flight unworthy great Laertes' son! 
Mix'd with the vulgar shall thy fate be 
found, Pierced in the back, a vile, 
dishonest wound? Oh turn and save from 
Hector's direful rage The glory of the 
Greeks, the Pylian sage." His fruitless 
words are lost unheard in air, Ulysses 
seeks the ships, and shelters there. 
But bold Tydides to the rescue goes, A 
single warrior midst a host of foes; 
Before the coursers with a sudden 
spring He leap'd, and anxious thus 
bespoke the king:

 "Great perils, father! wait the 
unequal fight; These younger champions 
will oppress thy might. Thy veins no 
more with ancient vigour glow, Weak is 
thy servant, and thy coursers slow. 
Then haste, ascend my seat, and from 
the car Observe the steeds of Tros, 
renown'd in war. Practised alike to 
turn, to stop, to chase, To dare the 
fight, or urge the rapid race: These 
late obey'd Ćneas' guiding rein; Leave 
thou thy chariot to our faithful train; 
With these against yon Trojans will we 
go, Nor shall great Hector want an 
equal foe; Fierce as he is, even he may 
learn to fear The thirsty fury of my 
flying spear."

 Thus said the chief; and Nestor, 
skill'd in war, Approves his counsel, 
and ascends the car: The steeds he 
left, their trusty servants hold; 
Eurymedon, and Sthenelus the bold: The 
reverend charioteer directs the course, 
And strains his aged arm to lash the 
horse. Hector they face; unknowing how 
to fear, Fierce he drove on; Tydides 
whirl'd his spear. The spear with 
erring haste mistook its way, But 
plunged in Eniopeus' bosom lay. His 
opening hand in death forsakes the 
rein; The steeds fly back: he falls, 
and spurns the plain. Great Hector 
sorrows for his servant kill'd, Yet 
unrevenged permits to press the field; 
Till, to supply his place and rule the 
car, Rose Archeptolemus, the fierce in 
war. And now had death and horror 
cover'd all;(193) Like timorous flocks 
the Trojans in their wall Inclosed had 
bled: but Jove with awful sound Roll'd 
the big thunder o'er the vast profound: 
Full in Tydides' face the lightning 
flew; The ground before him flamed with 
sulphur blue; The quivering steeds fell 
prostrate at the sight; And Nestor's 
trembling hand confess'd his fright: He 
dropp'd the reins: and, shook with 
sacred dread, Thus, turning, warn'd the 
intrepid Diomed:

 "O chief! too daring in thy friend's 
defence Retire advised, and urge the 
chariot hence. This day, averse, the 
sovereign of the skies Assists great 
Hector, and our palm denies. Some other 
sun may see the happier hour, When 
Greece shall conquer by his heavenly 
power. 'Tis not in man his fix'd decree 
to move: The great will glory to submit 
to Jove."

 "O reverend prince! (Tydides thus 
replies) Thy years are awful, and thy 
words are wise. But ah, what grief! 
should haughty Hector boast I fled 
inglorious to the guarded coast. Before 
that dire disgrace shall blast my fame, 
O'erwhelm me, earth; and hide a 
warrior's shame!" To whom Gerenian 
Nestor thus replied:(194) "Gods! can 
thy courage fear the Phrygian's pride? 
Hector may vaunt, but who shall heed 
the boast? Not those who felt thy arm, 
the Dardan host, Nor Troy, yet bleeding 
in her heroes lost; Not even a Phrygian 
dame, who dreads the sword That laid in 
dust her loved, lamented lord." He 
said, and, hasty, o'er the gasping 
throng Drives the swift steeds: the 
chariot smokes along; The shouts of 
Trojans thicken in the wind; The storm 
of hissing javelins pours behind. Then 
with a voice that shakes the solid 
skies, Pleased, Hector braves the 
warrior as he flies. "Go, mighty hero! 
graced above the rest In seats of 
council and the sumptuous feast: Now 
hope no more those honours from thy 
train; Go less than woman, in the form 
of man! To scale our walls, to wrap our 
towers in flames, To lead in exile the 
fair Phrygian dames, Thy once proud 
hopes, presumptuous prince! are fled; 
This arm shall reach thy heart, and 
stretch thee dead."

 Now fears dissuade him, and now hopes 
invite. To stop his coursers, and to 
stand the fight; Thrice turn'd the 
chief, and thrice imperial Jove On 
Ida's summits thunder'd from above. 
Great Hector heard; he saw the flashing 
light, (The sign of conquest,) and thus 
urged the fight:

 "Hear, every Trojan, Lycian, Dardan 
band, All famed in war, and dreadful 
hand to hand. Be mindful of the wreaths 
your arms have won, Your great 
forefathers' glories, and your own. 
Heard ye the voice of Jove? Success and 
fame Await on Troy, on Greece eternal 
shame. In vain they skulk behind their 
boasted wall, Weak bulwarks; destined 
by this arm to fall. High o'er their 
slighted trench our steeds shall bound, 
And pass victorious o'er the levell'd 
mound. Soon as before yon hollow ships 
we stand, Fight each with flames, and 
toss the blazing brand; Till, their 
proud navy wrapt in smoke and fires, 
All Greece, encompass'd, in one blaze 
expires."

 Furious he said; then bending o'er the 
yoke, Encouraged his proud steeds, 
while thus he spoke:

 "Now, Xanthus, Ćthon, Lampus, urge the 
chase, And thou, Podargus! prove thy 
generous race; Be fleet, be fearless, 
this important day, And all your 
master's well-spent care repay. For 
this, high-fed, in plenteous stalls ye 
stand, Served with pure wheat, and by a 
princess' hand; For this my spouse, of 
great Aetion's line, So oft has steep'd 
the strengthening grain in wine. Now 
swift pursue, now thunder uncontroll'd: 
Give me to seize rich Nestor's shield 
of gold; From Tydeus' shoulders strip 
the costly load, Vulcanian arms, the 
labour of a god: These if we gain, then 
victory, ye powers! This night, this 
glorious night, the fleet is ours!"

 That heard, deep anguish stung 
Saturnia's soul; She shook her throne, 
that shook the starry pole: And thus to 
Neptune: "Thou, whose force can make 
The stedfast earth from her foundations 
shake, Seest thou the Greeks by fates 
unjust oppress'd, Nor swells thy heart 
in that immortal breast? Yet Ćgae, 
Helice, thy power obey,(195) And gifts 
unceasing on thine altars lay. Would 
all the deities of Greece combine, In 
vain the gloomy Thunderer might repine: 
Sole should he sit, with scarce a god 
to friend, And see his Trojans to the 
shades descend: Such be the scene from 
his Idaean bower; Ungrateful prospect 
to the sullen power!"

 Neptune with wrath rejects the rash 
design: "What rage, what madness, 
furious queen! is thine? I war not with 
the highest. All above Submit and 
tremble at the hand of Jove."

 Now godlike Hector, to whose matchless 
might Jove gave the glory of the 
destined fight, Squadrons on squadrons 
drives, and fills the fields With 
close-ranged chariots, and with 
thicken'd shields. Where the deep 
trench in length extended lay, 
Compacted troops stand wedged in firm 
array, A dreadful front! they shake the 
brands, and threat With long-destroying 
flames the hostile fleet. The king of 
men, by Juno's self inspired, Toil'd 
through the tents, and all his army 
fired. Swift as he moved, he lifted in 
his hand His purple robe, bright ensign 
of command. High on the midmost bark 
the king appear'd: There, from Ulysses' 
deck, his voice was heard: To Ajax and 
Achilles reach'd the sound, Whose 
distant ships the guarded navy bound. 
"O Argives! shame of human race! (he 
cried: The hollow vessels to his voice 
replied,) Where now are all your 
glorious boasts of yore, Your hasty 
triumphs on the Lemnian shore? Each 
fearless hero dares a hundred foes, 
While the feast lasts, and while the 
goblet flows; But who to meet one 
martial man is found, When the fight 
rages, and the flames surround? O 
mighty Jove! O sire of the distress'd! 
Was ever king like me, like me 
oppress'd? With power immense, with 
justice arm'd in vain; My glory 
ravish'd, and my people slain! To thee 
my vows were breathed from every shore; 
What altar smoked not with our victims' 
gore? With fat of bulls I fed the 
constant flame, And ask'd destruction 
to the Trojan name. Now, gracious god! 
far humbler our demand; Give these at 
least to 'scape from Hector's hand, And 
save the relics of the Grecian land!"

 Thus pray'd the king, and heaven's 
great father heard His vows, in 
bitterness of soul preferr'd: The wrath 
appeased, by happy signs declares, And 
gives the people to their monarch's 
prayers. His eagle, sacred bird of 
heaven! he sent, A fawn his talons 
truss'd, (divine portent!) High o'er 
the wondering hosts he soar'd above, 
Who paid their vows to Panomphaean 
Jove; Then let the prey before his 
altar fall; The Greeks beheld, and 
transport seized on all: Encouraged by 
the sign, the troops revive, And fierce 
on Troy with doubled fury drive. 
Tydides first, of all the Grecian 
force, O'er the broad ditch impell'd 
his foaming horse, Pierced the deep 
ranks, their strongest battle tore, And 
dyed his javelin red with Trojan gore. 
Young Agelaus (Phradmon was his sire) 
With flying coursers shunn'd his 
dreadful ire; Struck through the back, 
the Phrygian fell oppress'd; The dart 
drove on, and issued at his breast: 
Headlong he quits the car: his arms 
resound; His ponderous buckler thunders 
on the ground. Forth rush a tide of 
Greeks, the passage freed; The Atridae 
first, the Ajaces next succeed: 
Meriones, like Mars in arms renown'd, 
And godlike Idomen, now passed the 
mound; Evaemon's son next issues to the 
foe, And last young Teucer with his 
bended bow. Secure behind the 
Telamonian shield The skilful archer 
wide survey'd the field, With every 
shaft some hostile victim slew, Then 
close beneath the sevenfold orb 
withdrew: The conscious infant so, when 
fear alarms, Retires for safety to the 
mother's arms. Thus Ajax guards his 
brother in the field, Moves as he 
moves, and turns the shining shield. 
Who first by Teucer's mortal arrows 
bled? Orsilochus; then fell Ormenus 
dead: The godlike Lycophon next press'd 
the plain, With Chromius, Daetor, 
Ophelestes slain: Bold Hamopaon 
breathless sunk to ground; The bloody 
pile great Melanippus crown'd. Heaps 
fell on heaps, sad trophies of his art, 
A Trojan ghost attending every dart. 
Great Agamemnon views with joyful eye 
The ranks grow thinner as his arrows 
fly: "O youth forever dear! (the 
monarch cried) Thus, always thus, thy 
early worth be tried; Thy brave example 
shall retrieve our host, Thy country's 
saviour, and thy father's boast! Sprung 
from an alien's bed thy sire to grace, 
The vigorous offspring of a stolen 
embrace: Proud of his boy, he own'd the 
generous flame, And the brave son 
repays his cares with fame. Now hear a 
monarch's vow: If heaven's high powers 
Give me to raze Troy's long-defended 
towers; Whatever treasures Greece for 
me design, The next rich honorary gift 
be thine: Some golden tripod, or 
distinguished car, With coursers 
dreadful in the ranks of war: Or some 
fair captive, whom thy eyes approve, 
Shall recompense the warrior's toils 
with love."

 To this the chief: "With praise the 
rest inspire, Nor urge a soul already 
fill'd with fire. What strength I have, 
be now in battle tried, Till every 
shaft in Phrygian blood be dyed. Since 
rallying from our wall we forced the 
foe, Still aim'd at Hector have I bent 
my bow: Eight forky arrows from this 
hand have fled, And eight bold heroes 
by their points lie dead: But sure some 
god denies me to destroy This fury of 
the field, this dog of Troy."

 He said, and twang'd the string. The 
weapon flies At Hector's breast, and 
sings along the skies: He miss'd the 
mark; but pierced Gorgythio's heart, 
And drench'd in royal blood the thirsty 
dart. (Fair Castianira, nymph of form 
divine, This offspring added to king 
Priam's line.) As full-blown poppies, 
overcharged with rain,(196) Decline the 
head, and drooping kiss the plain; So 
sinks the youth: his beauteous head, 
depress'd Beneath his helmet, drops 
upon his breast. Another shaft the 
raging archer drew, That other shaft 
with erring fury flew, (From Hector, 
Phoebus turn'd the flying wound,) Yet 
fell not dry or guiltless to the 
ground: Thy breast, brave 
Archeptolemus! it tore, And dipp'd its 
feathers in no vulgar gore. Headlong he 
falls: his sudden fall alarms The 
steeds, that startle at his sounding 
arms. Hector with grief his charioteer 
beheld All pale and breathless on the 
sanguine field: Then bids Cebriones 
direct the rein, Quits his bright car, 
and issues on the plain. Dreadful he 
shouts: from earth a stone he took, And 
rush'd on Teucer with the lifted rock. 
The youth already strain'd the forceful 
yew; The shaft already to his shoulder 
drew; The feather in his hand, just 
wing'd for flight, Touch'd where the 
neck and hollow chest unite; There, 
where the juncture knits the channel 
bone, The furious chief discharged the 
craggy stone: The bow-string burst 
beneath the ponderous blow, And his 
numb'd hand dismiss'd his useless bow. 
He fell: but Ajax his broad shield 
display'd, And screen'd his brother 
with the mighty shade; Till great 
Alaster, and Mecistheus, bore The 
batter'd archer groaning to the shore.

 Troy yet found grace before the 
Olympian sire, He arm'd their hands, 
and fill'd their breasts with fire. The 
Greeks repulsed, retreat behind their 
wall, Or in the trench on heaps 
confusedly fall. First of the foe, 
great Hector march'd along, With terror 
clothed, and more than mortal strong. 
As the bold hound, that gives the lion 
chase, With beating bosom, and with 
eager pace, Hangs on his haunch, or 
fastens on his heels, Guards as he 
turns, and circles as he wheels; Thus 
oft the Grecians turn'd, but still they 
flew; Thus following, Hector still the 
hindmost slew. When flying they had 
pass'd the trench profound, And many a 
chief lay gasping on the ground; Before 
the ships a desperate stand they made, 
And fired the troops, and called the 
gods to aid. Fierce on his rattling 
chariot Hector came: His eyes like 
Gorgon shot a sanguine flame That 
wither'd all their host: like Mars he 
stood: Dire as the monster, dreadful as 
the god! Their strong distress the wife 
of Jove survey'd; Then pensive thus, to 
war's triumphant maid:

 "O daughter of that god, whose arm can 
wield The avenging bolt, and shake the 
sable shield! Now, in this moment of 
her last despair, Shall wretched Greece 
no more confess our care, Condemn'd to 
suffer the full force of fate, And 
drain the dregs of heaven's relentless 
hate? Gods! shall one raging hand thus 
level all? What numbers fell! what 
numbers yet shall fall! What power 
divine shall Hector's wrath assuage? 
Still swells the slaughter, and still 
grows the rage!"

 So spake the imperial regent of the 
skies; To whom the goddess with the 
azure eyes:

 "Long since had Hector stain'd these 
fields with gore, Stretch'd by some 
Argive on his native shore: But he 
above, the sire of heaven, withstands, 
Mocks our attempts, and slights our 
just demands; The stubborn god, 
inflexible and hard, Forgets my service 
and deserved reward: Saved I, for this, 
his favourite son distress'd, By stern 
Eurystheus with long labours press'd? 
He begg'd, with tears he begg'd, in 
deep dismay; I shot from heaven, and 
gave his arm the day. Oh had my wisdom 
known this dire event, When to grim 
Pluto's gloomy gates he went; The 
triple dog had never felt his chain, 
Nor Styx been cross'd, nor hell 
explored in vain. Averse to me of all 
his heaven of gods, At Thetis' suit the 
partial Thunderer nods; To grace her 
gloomy, fierce, resenting son, My hopes 
are frustrate, and my Greeks undone. 
Some future day, perhaps, he may be 
moved To call his blue-eyed maid his 
best beloved. Haste, launch thy 
chariot, through yon ranks to ride; 
Myself will arm, and thunder at thy 
side. Then, goddess! say, shall Hector 
glory then? (That terror of the Greeks, 
that man of men) When Juno's self, and 
Pallas shall appear, All dreadful in 
the crimson walks of war! What mighty 
Trojan then, on yonder shore, Expiring, 
pale, and terrible no more, Shall feast 
the fowls, and glut the dogs with gore?"

 She ceased, and Juno rein'd the steeds 
with care: (Heaven's awful empress, 
Saturn's other heir:) Pallas, 
meanwhile, her various veil unbound, 
With flowers adorn'd, with art immortal 
crown'd; The radiant robe her sacred 
fingers wove Floats in rich waves, and 
spreads the court of Jove. Her father's 
arms her mighty limbs invest, His 
cuirass blazes on her ample breast. The 
vigorous power the trembling car 
ascends: Shook by her arm, the massy 
javelin bends: Huge, ponderous, strong! 
that when her fury burns Proud tyrants 
humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns.

 Saturnia lends the lash; the coursers 
fly; Smooth glides the chariot through 
the liquid sky. Heaven's gates 
spontaneous open to the powers, 
Heaven's golden gates, kept by the 
winged Hours. Commission'd in alternate 
watch they stand, The sun's bright 
portals and the skies command; Close, 
or unfold, the eternal gates of day Bar 
heaven with clouds, or roll those 
clouds away. The sounding hinges ring, 
the clouds divide. Prone down the steep 
of heaven their course they guide. But 
Jove, incensed, from Ida's top 
survey'd, And thus enjoin'd the 
many-colour'd maid. 

 JUNO AND MINERVA GOING TO ASSIST THE 
GREEKS. 

 "Thaumantia! mount the winds, and stop 
their car; Against the highest who 
shall wage the war? If furious yet they 
dare the vain debate, Thus have I 
spoke, and what I speak is fate: Their 
coursers crush'd beneath the wheels 
shall lie, Their car in fragments, 
scatter'd o'er the sky: My lightning 
these rebellious shall confound, And 
hurl them flaming, headlong, to the 
ground, Condemn'd for ten revolving 
years to weep The wounds impress'd by 
burning thunder deep. So shall Minerva 
learn to fear our ire, Nor dare to 
combat hers and nature's sire. For 
Juno, headstrong and imperious still, 
She claims some title to transgress our 
will."

 Swift as the wind, the 
various-colour'd maid From Ida's top 
her golden wings display'd; To great 
Olympus' shining gate she flies, There 
meets the chariot rushing down the 
skies, Restrains their progress from 
the bright abodes, And speaks the 
mandate of the sire of gods.

 "What frenzy goddesses! what rage can 
move Celestial minds to tempt the wrath 
of Jove? Desist, obedient to his high 
command: This is his word; and know his 
word shall stand: His lightning your 
rebellion shall confound, And hurl ye 
headlong, flaming, to the ground; Your 
horses crush'd beneath the wheels shall 
lie, Your car in fragments scatter'd 
o'er the sky; Yourselves condemn'd ten 
rolling years to weep The wounds 
impress'd by burning thunder deep. So 
shall Minerva learn to fear his ire, 
Nor dare to combat hers and nature's 
sire. For Juno, headstrong and 
imperious still, She claims some title 
to transgress his will: But thee, what 
desperate insolence has driven To lift 
thy lance against the king of heaven?"

 Then, mounting on the pinions of the 
wind, She flew; and Juno thus her rage 
resign'd:

 "O daughter of that god, whose arm can 
wield The avenging bolt, and shake the 
dreadful shield No more let beings of 
superior birth Contend with Jove for 
this low race of earth; Triumphant now, 
now miserably slain, They breathe or 
perish as the fates ordain: But Jove's 
high counsels full effect shall find; 
And, ever constant, ever rule mankind."

 She spoke, and backward turn'd her 
steeds of light, Adorn'd with manes of 
gold, and heavenly bright. The Hours 
unloosed them, panting as they stood, 
And heap'd their mangers with ambrosial 
food. There tied, they rest in high 
celestial stalls; The chariot propp'd 
against the crystal walls, The pensive 
goddesses, abash'd, controll'd, Mix 
with the gods, and fill their seats of 
gold. 

 THE HOURS TAKING THE HORSES FROM 
JUNO'S CAR. 

 And now the Thunderer meditates his 
flight From Ida's summits to the 
Olympian height. Swifter than thought, 
the wheels instinctive fly, Flame 
through the vast of air, and reach the 
sky. 'Twas Neptune's charge his 
coursers to unbrace, And fix the car on 
its immortal base; There stood the 
chariot, beaming forth its rays, Till 
with a snowy veil he screen'd the 
blaze. He, whose all-conscious eyes the 
world behold, The eternal Thunderer 
sat, enthroned in gold. High heaven the 
footstool of his feet he makes, And 
wide beneath him all Olympus shakes. 
Trembling afar the offending powers 
appear'd, Confused and silent, for his 
frown they fear'd. He saw their soul, 
and thus his word imparts: "Pallas and 
Juno! say, why heave your hearts? Soon 
was your battle o'er: proud Troy 
retired Before your face, and in your 
wrath expired. But know, whoe'er 
almighty power withstand! Unmatch'd our 
force, unconquer'd is our hand: Who 
shall the sovereign of the skies 
control? Not all the gods that crown 
the starry pole. Your hearts shall 
tremble, if our arms we take, And each 
immortal nerve with horror shake. For 
thus I speak, and what I speak shall 
stand; What power soe'er provokes our 
lifted hand, On this our hill no more 
shall hold his place; Cut off, and 
exiled from the ethereal race."

 Juno and Pallas grieving hear the 
doom, But feast their souls on Ilion's 
woes to come. Though secret anger 
swell'd Minerva's breast, The prudent 
goddess yet her wrath repress'd; But 
Juno, impotent of rage, replies: "What 
hast thou said, O tyrant of the skies! 
Strength and omnipotence invest thy 
throne; 'Tis thine to punish; ours to 
grieve alone. For Greece we grieve, 
abandon'd by her fate To drink the 
dregs of thy unmeasured hate. From 
fields forbidden we submiss refrain, 
With arms unaiding see our Argives 
slain; Yet grant our counsels still 
their breasts may move, Lest all should 
perish in the rage of Jove."

 The goddess thus; and thus the god 
replies, Who swells the clouds, and 
blackens all the skies:

 "The morning sun, awaked by loud 
alarms, Shall see the almighty 
Thunderer in arms. What heaps of 
Argives then shall load the plain, 
Those radiant eyes shall view, and view 
in vain. Nor shall great Hector cease 
the rage of fight, The navy flaming, 
and thy Greeks in flight, Even till the 
day when certain fates ordain That 
stern Achilles (his Patroclus slain) 
Shall rise in vengeance, and lay waste 
the plain. For such is fate, nor canst 
thou turn its course With all thy rage, 
with all thy rebel force. Fly, if thy 
wilt, to earth's remotest bound, Where 
on her utmost verge the seas resound; 
Where cursed Iapetus and Saturn dwell, 
Fast by the brink, within the streams 
of hell; No sun e'er gilds the gloomy 
horrors there; No cheerful gales 
refresh the lazy air: There arm once 
more the bold Titanian band; And arm in 
vain; for what I will, shall stand."

 Now deep in ocean sunk the lamp of 
light, And drew behind the cloudy veil 
of night: The conquering Trojans mourn 
his beams decay'd; The Greeks rejoicing 
bless the friendly shade.

 The victors keep the field; and Hector 
calls A martial council near the navy 
walls; These to Scamander's bank apart 
he led, Where thinly scatter'd lay the 
heaps of dead. The assembled chiefs, 
descending on the ground, Attend his 
order, and their prince surround. A 
massy spear he bore of mighty strength, 
Of full ten cubits was the lance's 
length; The point was brass, refulgent 
to behold, Fix'd to the wood with 
circling rings of gold: The noble 
Hector on his lance reclined, And, 
bending forward, thus reveal'd his mind:

 "Ye valiant Trojans, with attention 
hear! Ye Dardan bands, and generous 
aids, give ear! This day, we hoped, 
would wrap in conquering flame Greece 
with her ships, and crown our toils 
with fame. But darkness now, to save 
the cowards, falls, And guards them 
trembling in their wooden walls. Obey 
the night, and use her peaceful hours 
Our steeds to forage, and refresh our 
powers. Straight from the town be sheep 
and oxen sought, And strengthening 
bread and generous wine be brought Wide 
o'er the field, high blazing to the 
sky, Let numerous fires the absent sun 
supply, The flaming piles with 
plenteous fuel raise, Till the bright 
morn her purple beam displays; Lest, in 
the silence and the shades of night, 
Greece on her sable ships attempt her 
flight. Not unmolested let the wretches 
gain Their lofty decks, or safely 
cleave the main; Some hostile wound let 
every dart bestow, Some lasting token 
of the Phrygian foe, Wounds, that long 
hence may ask their spouses' care. And 
warn their children from a Trojan war. 
Now through the circuit of our Ilion 
wall, Let sacred heralds sound the 
solemn call; To bid the sires with 
hoary honours crown'd, And beardless 
youths, our battlements surround. Firm 
be the guard, while distant lie our 
powers, And let the matrons hang with 
lights the towers; Lest, under covert 
of the midnight shade, The insidious 
foe the naked town invade. Suffice, 
to-night, these orders to obey; A 
nobler charge shall rouse the dawning 
day. The gods, I trust, shall give to 
Hector's hand From these detested foes 
to free the land, Who plough'd, with 
fates averse, the watery way: For 
Trojan vultures a predestined prey. Our 
common safety must be now the care; But 
soon as morning paints the fields of 
air, Sheathed in bright arms let every 
troop engage, And the fired fleet 
behold the battle rage. Then, then 
shall Hector and Tydides prove Whose 
fates are heaviest in the scales of 
Jove. To-morrow's light (O haste the 
glorious morn!) Shall see his bloody 
spoils in triumph borne, With this keen 
javelin shall his breast be gored, And 
prostrate heroes bleed around their 
lord. Certain as this, oh! might my 
days endure, From age inglorious, and 
black death secure; So might my life 
and glory know no bound, Like Pallas 
worshipp'd, like the sun renown'd! As 
the next dawn, the last they shall 
enjoy, Shall crush the Greeks, and end 
the woes of Troy."

 The leader spoke. From all his host 
around Shouts of applause along the 
shores resound. Each from the yoke the 
smoking steeds untied, And fix'd their 
headstalls to his chariot-side. Fat 
sheep and oxen from the town are led, 
With generous wine, and all-sustaining 
bread, Full hecatombs lay burning on 
the shore: The winds to heaven the 
curling vapours bore. Ungrateful 
offering to the immortal powers!(197) 
Whose wrath hung heavy o'er the Trojan 
towers: Nor Priam nor his sons obtain'd 
their grace; Proud Troy they hated, and 
her guilty race.

 The troops exulting sat in order 
round, And beaming fires illumined all 
the ground. As when the moon, refulgent 
lamp of night,(198) O'er heaven's pure 
azure spreads her sacred light, When 
not a breath disturbs the deep serene, 
And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn 
scene, Around her throne the vivid 
planets roll, And stars unnumber'd gild 
the glowing pole, O'er the dark trees a 
yellower verdure shed, And tip with 
silver every mountain's head: Then 
shine the vales, the rocks in prospect 
rise, A flood of glory bursts from all 
the skies: The conscious swains, 
rejoicing in the sight, Eye the blue 
vault, and bless the useful light. So 
many flames before proud Ilion blaze, 
And lighten glimmering Xanthus with 
their rays. The long reflections of the 
distant fires Gleam on the walls, and 
tremble on the spires. A thousand piles 
the dusky horrors gild, And shoot a 
shady lustre o'er the field. Full fifty 
guards each flaming pile attend, Whose 
umber'd arms, by fits, thick flashes 
send, Loud neigh the coursers o'er 
their heaps of corn, And ardent 
warriors wait the rising morn.