Such thoughts revolving in his careful breast, Near, and more near, the shady cohorts press'd; These, in the warrior, their own fate enclose; And round him deep the steely circle grows. So fares a boar whom all the troop surrounds Of shouting huntsmen and of clamorous hounds; He grinds his ivory tusks; he foams with ire; His sanguine eye-balls glare with living fire; By these, by those, on every part is plied; And the red slaughter spreads on every side. Pierced through the shoulder, first Deiopis fell; Next Ennomus and Thoon sank to hell; Chersidamas, beneath the navel thrust, Falls prone to earth, and grasps the bloody dust. Charops, the son of Hippasus, was near; Ulysses reach'd him with the fatal spear; But to his aid his brother Socus flies, Socus the brave, the generous, and the wise. Near as he drew, the warrior thus began:


"O great Ulysses! much-enduring man! Not deeper skill'd in every martial sleight, Than worn to toils, and active in the fight! This day two brothers shall thy conquest grace, And end at once the great Hippasian race, Or thou beneath this lance must press the field." He said, and forceful pierced his spacious shield: Through the strong brass the ringing javelin thrown, Plough'd half his side, and bared it to the bone. By Pallas' care, the spear, though deep infix'd, Stopp'd short of life, nor with his entrails mix'd.


The wound not mortal wise Ulysses knew, Then furious thus (but first some steps withdrew): "Unhappy man! whose death our hands shall grace, Fate calls thee hence and finish'd is thy race. Nor longer check my conquests on the foe; But, pierced by this, to endless darkness go, And add one spectre to the realms below!"


He spoke, while Socus, seized with sudden fright, Trembling gave way, and turn'd his back to flight; Between his shoulders pierced the following dart, And held its passage through the panting heart: Wide in his breast appear'd the grisly wound; He falls; his armour rings against the ground. Then thus Ulysses, gazing on the slain: "Famed son of Hippasus! there press the plain; There ends thy narrow span assign'd by fate, Heaven owes Ulysses yet a longer date. Ah, wretch! no father shall thy corpse compose; Thy dying eyes no tender mother close; But hungry birds shall tear those balls away, And hovering vultures scream around their prey. Me Greece shall honour, when I meet my doom, With solemn funerals and a lasting tomb."


Then raging with intolerable smart, He writhes his body, and extracts the dart. The dart a tide of spouting gore pursued, And gladden'd Troy with sight of hostile blood. Now troops on troops the fainting chief invade, Forced he recedes, and loudly calls for aid. Thrice to its pitch his lofty voice he rears; The well-known voice thrice Menelaus hears: Alarm'd, to Ajax Telamon he cried, Who shares his labours, and defends his side: "O friend! Ulysses' shouts invade my ear; Distressed he seems, and no assistance near; Strong as he is, yet one opposed to all, Oppress'd by multitudes, the best may fall. Greece robb'd of him must bid her host despair, And feel a loss not ages can repair."


Then, where the cry directs, his course he bends; Great Ajax, like the god of war, attends, The prudent chief in sore distress they found, With bands of furious Trojans compass'd round.[223] As when some huntsman, with a flying spear, From the blind thicket wounds a stately deer; Down his cleft side, while fresh the blood distils, He bounds aloft, and scuds from hills to hills, Till life's warm vapour issuing through the wound, Wild mountain-wolves the fainting beast surround: Just as their jaws his prostrate limbs invade, The lion rushes through the woodland shade, The wolves, though hungry, scour dispersed away; The lordly savage vindicates his prey. Ulysses thus, unconquer'd by his pains, A single warrior half a host sustains: But soon as Ajax leaves his tower-like shield, The scattered crowds fly frighted o'er the field; Atrides' arm the sinking hero stays, And, saved from numbers, to his car conveys.


Victorious Ajax plies the routed crew; And first Doryclus, Priam's son, he slew, On strong Pandocus next inflicts a wound, And lays Lysander bleeding on the ground. As when a torrent, swell'd with wintry rains, Pours from the mountains o'er the deluged plains, And pines and oaks, from their foundations torn, A country's ruins! to the seas are borne: Fierce Ajax thus o'erwhelms the yielding throng; Men, steeds, and chariots, roll in heaps along.


But Hector, from this scene of slaughter far, Raged on the left, and ruled the tide of war: Loud groans proclaim his progress through the plain, And deep Scamander swells with heaps of slain. There Nestor and Idomeneus oppose The warrior's fury; there the battle glows; There fierce on foot, or from the chariot's height, His sword deforms the beauteous ranks of fight. The spouse of Helen, dealing darts around, Had pierced Machaon with a distant wound: In his right shoulder the broad shaft appear'd, And trembling Greece for her physician fear'd. To Nestor then Idomeneus begun: "Glory of Greece, old Neleus' valiant son! Ascend thy chariot, haste with speed away, And great Machaon to the ships convey; A wise physician skill'd our wounds to heal, Is more than armies to the public weal." Old Nestor mounts the seat; beside him rode The wounded offspring of the healing god. He lends the lash; the steeds with sounding feet Shake the dry field, and thunder toward the fleet.


But now Cebriones, from Hector's car, Survey'd the various fortune of the war: "While here (he cried) the flying Greeks are slain, Trojans on Trojans yonder load the plain. Before great Ajax see the mingled throng Of men and chariots driven in heaps along! I know him well, distinguish'd o'er the field By the broad glittering of the sevenfold shield. Thither, O Hector, thither urge thy steeds, There danger calls, and there the combat bleeds; There horse and foot in mingled deaths unite, And groans of slaughter mix with shouts of fight."


Thus having spoke, the driver's lash resounds; Swift through the ranks the rapid chariot bounds; Stung by the stroke, the coursers scour the fields, O'er heaps of carcases, and hills of shields. The horses' hoofs are bathed in heroes' gore, And, dashing, purple all the car before; The groaning axle sable drops distils, And mangled carnage clogs the rapid wheels. Here Hector, plunging through the thickest fight, Broke the dark phalanx, and let in the light: (By the long lance, the sword, or ponderous stone, The ranks he scatter'd and the troops o'erthrown:) Ajax he shuns, through all the dire debate, And fears that arm whose force he felt so late. But partial Jove, espousing Hector's part, Shot heaven-bred horror through the Grecian's heart; Confused, unnerved in Hector's presence grown, Amazed he stood, with terrors not his own. O'er his broad back his moony shield he threw, And, glaring round, by tardy steps withdrew. Thus the grim lion his retreat maintains, Beset with watchful dogs, and shouting swains; Repulsed by numbers from the nightly stalls, Though rage impels him, and though hunger calls, Long stands the showering darts, and missile fires; Then sourly slow the indignant beast retires: So turn'd stern Ajax, by whole hosts repell'd, While his swoln heart at every step rebell'd.


As the slow beast, with heavy strength endued, In some wide field by troops of boys pursued, Though round his sides a wooden tempest rain, Crops the tall harvest, and lays waste the plain; Thick on his hide the hollow blows resound, The patient animal maintains his ground, Scarce from the field with all their efforts chased, And stirs but slowly when he stirs at last: On Ajax thus a weight of Trojans hung, The strokes redoubled on his buckler rung; Confiding now in bulky strength he stands, Now turns, and backward bears the yielding bands; Now stiff recedes, yet hardly seems to fly, And threats his followers with retorted eye. Fix'd as the bar between two warring powers, While hissing darts descend in iron showers: In his broad buckler many a weapon stood, Its surface bristled with a quivering wood; And many a javelin, guiltless on the plain, Marks the dry dust, and thirsts for blood in vain. But bold Eurypylus his aid imparts, And dauntless springs beneath a cloud of darts; Whose eager javelin launch'd against the foe, Great Apisaon felt the fatal blow; From his torn liver the red current flow'd, And his slack knees desert their dying load. The victor rushing to despoil the dead, From Paris' bow a vengeful arrow fled; Fix'd in his nervous thigh the weapon stood, Fix'd was the point, but broken was the wood. Back to the lines the wounded Greek retired, Yet thus retreating, his associates fired:


"What god, O Grecians! has your hearts dismay'd? Oh, turn to arms; 'tis Ajax claims your aid. This hour he stands the mark of hostile rage, And this the last brave battle he shall wage: Haste, join your forces; from the gloomy grave The warrior rescue, and your country save." Thus urged the chief: a generous troop appears, Who spread their bucklers, and advance their spears, To guard their wounded friend: while thus they stand With pious care, great Ajax joins the band: Each takes new courage at the hero's sight; The hero rallies, and renews the fight.


Thus raged both armies like conflicting fires, While Nestor's chariot far from fight retires: His coursers steep'd in sweat, and stain'd with gore, The Greeks' preserver, great Machaon, bore. That hour Achilles, from the topmost height Of his proud fleet, o'erlook'd the fields of fight; His feasted eyes beheld around the plain The Grecian rout, the slaying, and the slain. His friend Machaon singled from the rest, A transient pity touch'd his vengeful breast. Straight to Menoetius' much-loved son he sent: Graceful as Mars, Patroclus quits his tent; In evil hour! Then fate decreed his doom, And fix'd the date of all his woes to come.


"Why calls my friend? thy loved injunctions lay; Whate'er thy will, Patroclus shall obey."


"O first of friends! (Pelides thus replied) Still at my heart, and ever at my side! The time is come, when yon despairing host Shall learn the value of the man they lost: Now at my knees the Greeks shall pour their moan, And proud Atrides tremble on his throne. Go now to Nestor, and from him be taught What wounded warrior late his chariot brought: For, seen at distance, and but seen behind, His form recall'd Machaon to my mind; Nor could I, through yon cloud, discern his face, The coursers pass'd me with so swift a pace."


The hero said. His friend obey'd with haste, Through intermingled ships and tents he pass'd; The chiefs descending from their car he found: The panting steeds Eurymedon unbound. The warriors standing on the breezy shore, To dry their sweat, and wash away the gore, Here paused a moment, while the gentle gale Convey'd that freshness the cool seas exhale; Then to consult on farther methods went, And took their seats beneath the shady tent. The draught prescribed, fair Hecamede prepares, Arsinous' daughter, graced with golden hairs: (Whom to his aged arms, a royal slave, Greece, as the prize of Nestor's wisdom gave:) A table first with azure feet she placed; Whose ample orb a brazen charger graced; Honey new-press'd, the sacred flour of wheat, And wholesome garlic, crown'd the savoury treat, Next her white hand an antique goblet brings, A goblet sacred to the Pylian kings From eldest times: emboss'd with studs of gold, Two feet support it, and four handles hold; On each bright handle, bending o'er the brink, In sculptured gold, two turtles seem to drink: A massy weight, yet heaved with ease by him, When the brisk nectar overlook'd the brim. Temper'd in this, the nymph of form divine Pours a large portion of the Pramnian wine; With goat's-milk cheese a flavourous taste bestows, And last with flour the smiling surface strows: This for the wounded prince the dame prepares: The cordial beverage reverend Nestor shares: Salubrious draughts the warriors' thirst allay, And pleasing conference beguiles the day.


Meantime Patroclus, by Achilles sent, Unheard approached, and stood before the tent. Old Nestor, rising then, the hero led To his high seat: the chief refused and said:


"'Tis now no season for these kind delays; The great Achilles with impatience stays. To great Achilles this respect I owe; Who asks, what hero, wounded by the foe, Was borne from combat by thy foaming steeds? With grief I see the great Machaon bleeds. This to report, my hasty course I bend; Thou know'st the fiery temper of my friend." "Can then the sons of Greece (the sage rejoin'd) Excite compassion in Achilles' mind? Seeks he the sorrows of our host to know? This is not half the story of our woe. Tell him, not great Machaon bleeds alone, Our bravest heroes in the navy groan, Ulysses, Agamemnon, Diomed, And stern Eurypylus, already bleed. But, ah! what flattering hopes I entertain! Achilles heeds not, but derides our pain: Even till the flames consume our fleet he stays, And waits the rising of the fatal blaze. Chief after chief the raging foe destroys; Calm he looks on, and every death enjoys. Now the slow course of all-impairing time Unstrings my nerves, and ends my manly prime; Oh! had I still that strength my youth possess'd, When this bold arm the Epeian powers oppress'd, The bulls of Elis in glad triumph led, And stretch'd the great Itymonaeus dead! Then from my fury fled the trembling swains, And ours was all the plunder of the plains: Fifty white flocks, full fifty herds of swine, As many goats, as many lowing kine: And thrice the number of unrivall'd steeds, All teeming females, and of generous breeds. These, as my first essay of arms, I won; Old Neleus gloried in his conquering son. Thus Elis forced, her long arrears restored, And shares were parted to each Pylian lord. The state of Pyle was sunk to last despair, When the proud Elians first commenced the war: For Neleus' sons Alcides' rage had slain; Of twelve bold brothers, I alone remain! Oppress'd, we arm'd; and now this conquest gain'd, My sire three hundred chosen sheep obtain'd. (That large reprisal he might justly claim, For prize defrauded, and insulted fame, When Elis' monarch, at the public course, Detain'd his chariot, and victorious horse.) The rest the people shared; myself survey'd The just partition, and due victims paid. Three days were past, when Elis rose to war, With many a courser, and with many a car; The sons of Actor at their army's head (Young as they were) the vengeful squadrons led. High on the rock fair Thryoessa stands, Our utmost frontier on the Pylian lands: Not far the streams of famed Alphaeus flow: The stream they pass'd, and pitch'd their tents below. Pallas, descending in the shades of night, Alarms the Pylians and commands the fight. Each burns for fame, and swells with martial pride, Myself the foremost; but my sire denied; Fear'd for my youth, exposed to stern alarms; And stopp'd my chariot, and detain'd my arms. My sire denied in vain: on foot I fled Amidst our chariots; for the goddess led.


"Along fair Arene's delightful plain Soft Minyas rolls his waters to the main: There, horse and foot, the Pylian troops unite, And sheathed in arms, expect the dawning light. Thence, ere the sun advanced his noon-day flame, To great Alphaeus' sacred source we came. There first to Jove our solemn rites were paid; An untamed heifer pleased the blue-eyed maid; A bull, Alphaeus; and a bull was slain To the blue monarch of the watery main. In arms we slept, beside the winding flood, While round the town the fierce Epeians stood. Soon as the sun, with all-revealing ray, Flamed in the front of Heaven, and gave the day. Bright scenes of arms, and works of war appear; The nations meet; there Pylos, Elis here. The first who fell, beneath my javelin bled; King Augias' son, and spouse of Agamede: (She that all simples' healing virtues knew, And every herb that drinks the morning dew:) I seized his car, the van of battle led; The Epeians saw, they trembled, and they fled. The foe dispersed, their bravest warrior kill'd, Fierce as the whirlwind now I swept the field: Full fifty captive chariots graced my train; Two chiefs from each fell breathless to the plain. Then Actor's sons had died, but Neptune shrouds The youthful heroes in a veil of clouds. O'er heapy shields, and o'er the prostrate throng, Collecting spoils, and slaughtering all along, Through wide Buprasian fields we forced the foes, Where o'er the vales the Olenian rocks arose; Till Pallas stopp'd us where Alisium flows. Even there the hindmost of the rear I slay, And the same arm that led concludes the day; Then back to Pyle triumphant take my way. There to high Jove were public thanks assign'd, As first of gods; to Nestor, of mankind. Such then I was, impell'd by youthful blood; So proved my valour for my country's good.


"Achilles with unactive fury glows, And gives to passion what to Greece he owes. How shall he grieve, when to the eternal shade Her hosts shall sink, nor his the power to aid! O friend! my memory recalls the day, When, gathering aids along the Grecian sea, I, and Ulysses, touch'd at Phthia's port, And entered Peleus' hospitable court. A bull to Jove he slew in sacrifice, And pour'd libations on the flaming thighs. Thyself, Achilles, and thy reverend sire Menoetius, turn'd the fragments on the fire. Achilles sees us, to the feast invites; Social we sit, and share the genial rites. We then explained the cause on which we came, Urged you to arms, and found you fierce for fame. Your ancient fathers generous precepts gave; Peleus said only this:—'My son! be brave.' Menoetius thus: 'Though great Achilles shine In strength superior, and of race divine, Yet cooler thoughts thy elder years attend; Let thy just counsels aid, and rule thy friend.' Thus spoke your father at Thessalia's court: Words now forgot, though now of vast import. Ah! try the utmost that a friend can say: Such gentle force the fiercest minds obey; Some favouring god Achilles' heart may move; Though deaf to glory, he may yield to love. If some dire oracle his breast alarm, If aught from Heaven withhold his saving arm, Some beam of comfort yet on Greece may shine, If thou but lead the Myrmidonian line; Clad in Achilles' arms, if thou appear, Proud Troy may tremble, and desist from war; Press'd by fresh forces, her o'er-labour'd train Shall seek their walls, and Greece respire again."


This touch'd his generous heart, and from the tent Along the shore with hasty strides he went; Soon as he came, where, on the crowded strand, The public mart and courts of justice stand, Where the tall fleet of great Ulysses lies, And altars to the guardian gods arise; There, sad, he met the brave Euaemon's son, Large painful drops from all his members run; An arrow's head yet rooted in his wound, The sable blood in circles mark'd the ground. As faintly reeling he confess'd the smart, Weak was his pace, but dauntless was his heart. Divine compassion touch'd Patroclus' breast, Who, sighing, thus his bleeding friend address'd:


"Ah, hapless leaders of the Grecian host! Thus must ye perish on a barbarous coast? Is this your fate, to glut the dogs with gore, Far from your friends, and from your native shore? Say, great Eurypylus! shall Greece yet stand? Resists she yet the raging Hector's hand? Or are her heroes doom'd to die with shame, And this the period of our wars and fame?"


Eurypylus replies: "No more, my friend; Greece is no more! this day her glories end; Even to the ships victorious Troy pursues, Her force increasing as her toil renews. Those chiefs, that used her utmost rage to meet, Lie pierced with wounds, and bleeding in the fleet. But, thou, Patroclus! act a friendly part, Lead to my ships, and draw this deadly dart; With lukewarm water wash the gore away; With healing balms the raging smart allay, Such as sage Chiron, sire of pharmacy, Once taught Achilles, and Achilles thee. Of two famed surgeons, Podalirius stands This hour surrounded by the Trojan bands; And great Machaon, wounded in his tent, Now wants that succour which so oft he lent."


To him the chief: "What then remains to do? The event of things the gods alone can view. Charged by Achilles' great command I fly, And bear with haste the Pylian king's reply: But thy distress this instant claims relief." He said, and in his arms upheld the chief. The slaves their master's slow approach survey'd, And hides of oxen on the floor display'd: There stretch'd at length the wounded hero lay; Patroclus cut the forky steel away: Then in his hands a bitter root he bruised; The wound he wash'd, the styptic juice infused. The closing flesh that instant ceased to glow, The wound to torture, and the blood to flow.


The Greeks having retired into their intrenchments, Hector attempts to force them; but it proving impossible to pass the ditch, Polydamas advises to quit their chariots, and manage the attack on foot. The Trojans follow his counsel; and having divided their army into five bodies of foot, begin the assault. But upon the signal of an eagle with a serpent in his talons, which appeared on the left hand of the Trojans, Polydamas endeavours to withdraw them again. This Hector opposes, and continues the attack; in which, after many actions, Sarpedon makes the first breach in the wall. Hector also, casting a stone of vast size, forces open one of the gates, and enters at the head of his troops, who victoriously pursue the Grecians even to their ships.


While thus the hero's pious cares attend The cure and safety of his wounded friend, Trojans and Greeks with clashing shields engage, And mutual deaths are dealt with mutual rage. Nor long the trench or lofty walls oppose; With gods averse the ill-fated works arose; Their powers neglected, and no victim slain, The walls were raised, the trenches sunk in vain.


Without the gods, how short a period stands The proudest monument of mortal hands! This stood while Hector and Achilles raged, While sacred Troy the warring hosts engaged; But when her sons were slain, her city burn'd, And what survived of Greece to Greece return'd; Then Neptune and Apollo shook the shore, Then Ida's summits pour'd their watery store; Rhesus and Rhodius then unite their rills, Caresus roaring down the stony hills, Æsepus, Granicus, with mingled force, And Xanthus foaming from his fruitful source; And gulfy Simois, rolling to the main[224] Helmets, and shields, and godlike heroes slain: These, turn'd by Phœbus from their wonted ways, Deluged the rampire nine continual days; The weight of waters saps the yielding wall, And to the sea the floating bulwarks fall. Incessant cataracts the Thunderer pours, And half the skies descend in sluicy showers. The god of ocean, marching stern before, With his huge trident wounds the trembling shore, Vast stones and piles from their foundation heaves, And whelms the smoky ruin in the waves. Now smooth'd with sand, and levell'd by the flood, No fragment tells where once the wonder stood; In their old bounds the rivers roll again, Shine 'twixt the hills, or wander o'er the plain.[225]


But this the gods in later times perform; As yet the bulwark stood, and braved the storm; The strokes yet echoed of contending powers; War thunder'd at the gates, and blood distain'd the towers. Smote by the arm of Jove with dire dismay, Close by their hollow ships the Grecians lay: Hector's approach in every wind they hear, And Hector's fury every moment fear. He, like a whirlwind, toss'd the scattering throng, Mingled the troops, and drove the field along. So 'midst the dogs and hunters' daring bands, Fierce of his might, a boar or lion stands; Arm'd foes around a dreadful circle form, And hissing javelins rain an iron storm: His powers untamed, their bold assault defy, And where he turns the rout disperse or die: He foams, he glares, he bounds against them all, And if he falls, his courage makes him fall. With equal rage encompass'd Hector glows; Exhorts his armies, and the trenches shows. The panting steeds impatient fury breathe, And snort and tremble at the gulf beneath; Just at the brink they neigh, and paw the ground, And the turf trembles, and the skies resound. Eager they view'd the prospect dark and deep, Vast was the leap, and headlong hung the steep; The bottom bare, (a formidable show!) And bristled thick with sharpen'd stakes below. The foot alone this strong defence could force, And try the pass impervious to the horse. This saw Polydamas; who, wisely brave, Restrain'd great Hector, and this counsel gave:


"O thou, bold leader of the Trojan bands! And you, confederate chiefs from foreign lands! What entrance here can cumbrous chariots find, The stakes beneath, the Grecian walls behind? No pass through those, without a thousand wounds, No space for combat in yon narrow bounds. Proud of the favours mighty Jove has shown, On certain dangers we too rashly run: If 'tis his will our haughty foes to tame, Oh may this instant end the Grecian name! Here, far from Argos, let their heroes fall, And one great day destroy and bury all! But should they turn, and here oppress our train, What hopes, what methods of retreat remain? Wedged in the trench, by our own troops confused, In one promiscuous carnage crush'd and bruised, All Troy must perish, if their arms prevail, Nor shall a Trojan live to tell the tale. Hear then, ye warriors! and obey with speed; Back from the trenches let your steeds be led; Then all alighting, wedged in firm array, Proceed on foot, and Hector lead the way. So Greece shall stoop before our conquering power, And this (if Jove consent) her fatal hour."


This counsel pleased: the godlike Hector sprung Swift from his seat; his clanging armour rung. The chief's example follow'd by his train, Each quits his car, and issues on the plain, By orders strict the charioteers enjoin'd Compel the coursers to their ranks behind. The forces part in five distinguish'd bands, And all obey their several chiefs' commands. The best and bravest in the first conspire, Pant for the fight, and threat the fleet with fire: Great Hector glorious in the van of these, Polydamas, and brave Cebriones. Before the next the graceful Paris shines, And bold Alcathous, and Agenor joins. The sons of Priam with the third appear, Deiphobus, and Helenas the seer; In arms with these the mighty Asius stood, Who drew from Hyrtacus his noble blood, And whom Arisba's yellow coursers bore, The coursers fed on Sellè's winding shore. Antenor's sons the fourth battalion guide, And great Æneas, born on fountful Ide. Divine Sarpedon the last band obey'd, Whom Glaucus and Asteropaeus aid. Next him, the bravest, at their army's head, But he more brave than all the hosts he led.


Now with compacted shields in close array, The moving legions speed their headlong way: Already in their hopes they fire the fleet, And see the Grecians gasping at their feet.


While every Trojan thus, and every aid, The advice of wise Polydamas obey'd, Asius alone, confiding in his car, His vaunted coursers urged to meet the war. Unhappy hero! and advised in vain; Those wheels returning ne'er shall mark the plain; No more those coursers with triumphant joy Restore their master to the gates of Troy! Black death attends behind the Grecian wall, And great Idomeneus shall boast thy fall! Fierce to the left he drives, where from the plain The flying Grecians strove their ships to gain; Swift through the wall their horse and chariots pass'd, The gates half-open'd to receive the last. Thither, exulting in his force, he flies: His following host with clamours rend the skies: To plunge the Grecians headlong in the main, Such their proud hopes; but all their hopes were vain!


To guard the gates, two mighty chiefs attend, Who from the Lapiths' warlike race descend; This Polypœtes, great Perithous' heir, And that Leonteus, like the god of war. As two tall oaks, before the wall they rise; Their roots in earth, their heads amidst the skies: Whose spreading arms with leafy honours crown'd, Forbid the tempest, and protect the ground; High on the hills appears their stately form, And their deep roots for ever brave the storm. So graceful these, and so the shock they stand Of raging Asius, and his furious band. Orestes, Acamas, in front appear, And Œnomaus and Thoon close the rear: In vain their clamours shake the ambient fields, In vain around them beat their hollow shields; The fearless brothers on the Grecians call, To guard their navies, and defend the wall. Even when they saw Troy's sable troops impend, And Greece tumultuous from her towers descend, Forth from the portals rush'd the intrepid pair, Opposed their breasts, and stood themselves the war. So two wild boars spring furious from their den, Roused with the cries of dogs and voice of men; On every side the crackling trees they tear, And root the shrubs, and lay the forest bare; They gnash their tusks, with fire their eye-balls roll, Till some wide wound lets out their mighty soul. Around their heads the whistling javelins sung, With sounding strokes their brazen targets rung; Fierce was the fight, while yet the Grecian powers Maintain'd the walls, and mann'd the lofty towers: To save their fleet their last efforts they try, And stones and darts in mingled tempests fly.


As when sharp Boreas blows abroad, and brings The dreary winter on his frozen wings; Beneath the low-hung clouds the sheets of snow Descend, and whiten all the fields below: So fast the darts on either army pour, So down the rampires rolls the rocky shower: Heavy, and thick, resound the batter'd shields, And the deaf echo rattles round the fields.


With shame repulsed, with grief and fury driven, The frantic Asius thus accuses Heaven: "In powers immortal who shall now believe? Can those too flatter, and can Jove deceive? What man could doubt but Troy's victorious power Should humble Greece, and this her fatal hour? But like when wasps from hollow crannies drive, To guard the entrance of their common hive, Darkening the rock, while with unwearied wings They strike the assailants, and infix their stings; A race determined, that to death contend: So fierce these Greeks their last retreats defend. Gods! shall two warriors only guard their gates, Repel an army, and defraud the fates?"


These empty accents mingled with the wind, Nor moved great Jove's unalterable mind; To godlike Hector and his matchless might Was owed the glory of the destined fight. Like deeds of arms through all the forts were tried, And all the gates sustain'd an equal tide; Through the long walls the stony showers were heard, The blaze of flames, the flash of arms appear'd. The spirit of a god my breast inspire, To raise each act to life, and sing with fire! While Greece unconquer'd kept alive the war, Secure of death, confiding in despair; And all her guardian gods, in deep dismay, With unassisting arms deplored the day.


Even yet the dauntless Lapithae maintain The dreadful pass, and round them heap the slain. First Damasus, by Polypœtes' steel, Pierced through his helmet's brazen visor, fell; The weapon drank the mingled brains and gore! The warrior sinks, tremendous now no more! Next Ormenus and Pylon yield their breath: Nor less Leonteus strews the field with death; First through the belt Hippomachus he gored, Then sudden waved his unresisted sword: Antiphates, as through the ranks he broke, The falchion struck, and fate pursued the stroke: Iamenus, Orestes, Menon, bled; And round him rose a monument of dead. Meantime, the bravest of the Trojan crew, Bold Hector and Polydamas, pursue; Fierce with impatience on the works to fall, And wrap in rolling flames the fleet and wall. These on the farther bank now stood and gazed, By Heaven alarm'd, by prodigies amazed: A signal omen stopp'd the passing host, Their martial fury in their wonder lost. Jove's bird on sounding pinions beat the skies; A bleeding serpent of enormous size, His talons truss'd; alive, and curling round, He stung the bird, whose throat received the wound: Mad with the smart, he drops the fatal prey, In airy circles wings his painful way, Floats on the winds, and rends the heaven with cries: Amidst the host the fallen serpent lies. They, pale with terror, mark its spires unroll'd, And Jove's portent with beating hearts behold. Then first Polydamas the silence broke, Long weigh'd the signal, and to Hector spoke:


"How oft, my brother, thy reproach I bear, For words well meant, and sentiments sincere? True to those counsels which I judge the best, I tell the faithful dictates of my breast. To speak his thoughts is every freeman's right, In peace, in war, in council, and in fight; And all I move, deferring to thy sway, But tends to raise that power which I obey. Then hear my words, nor may my words be vain! Seek not this day the Grecian ships to gain; For sure, to warn us, Jove his omen sent, And thus my mind explains its clear event: The victor eagle, whose sinister flight Retards our host, and fills our hearts with fright, Dismiss'd his conquest in the middle skies, Allow'd to seize, but not possess the prize; Thus, though we gird with fires the Grecian fleet, Though these proud bulwalks tumble at our feet, Toils unforeseen, and fiercer, are decreed; More woes shall follow, and more heroes bleed. So bodes my soul, and bids me thus advise; For thus a skilful seer would read the skies."


To him then Hector with disdain return'd: (Fierce as he spoke, his eyes with fury burn'd:) "Are these the faithful counsels of thy tongue? Thy will is partial, not thy reason wrong: Or if the purpose of thy heart thou vent, Sure heaven resumes the little sense it lent. What coward counsels would thy madness move Against the word, the will reveal'd of Jove? The leading sign, the irrevocable nod, And happy thunders of the favouring god, These shall I slight, and guide my wavering mind By wandering birds that flit with every wind? Ye vagrants of the sky! your wings extend, Or where the suns arise, or where descend; To right, to left, unheeded take your way, While I the dictates of high heaven obey. Without a sign his sword the brave man draws, And asks no omen but his country's cause. But why should'st thou suspect the war's success? None fears it more, as none promotes it less: Though all our chiefs amidst yon ships expire, Trust thy own cowardice to escape their fire. Troy and her sons may find a general grave, But thou canst live, for thou canst be a slave. Yet should the fears that wary mind suggests Spread their cold poison through our soldiers' breasts, My javelin can revenge so base a part, And free the soul that quivers in thy heart."


Furious he spoke, and, rushing to the wall, Calls on his host; his host obey the call; With ardour follow where their leader flies: Redoubling clamours thunder in the skies. Jove breathes a whirlwind from the hills of Ide, And drifts of dust the clouded navy hide; He fills the Greeks with terror and dismay, And gives great Hector the predestined day. Strong in themselves, but stronger in his aid, Close to the works their rigid siege they laid. In vain the mounds and massy beams defend, While these they undermine, and those they rend; Upheaved the piles that prop the solid wall; And heaps on heaps the smoky ruins fall. Greece on her ramparts stands the fierce alarms; The crowded bulwarks blaze with waving arms, Shield touching shield, a long refulgent row; Whence hissing darts, incessant, rain below. The bold Ajaces fly from tower to tower, And rouse, with flame divine, the Grecian power. The generous impulse every Greek obeys; Threats urge the fearful; and the valiant, praise.


"Fellows in arms! whose deeds are known to fame, And you, whose ardour hopes an equal name! Since not alike endued with force or art; Behold a day when each may act his part! A day to fire the brave, and warm the cold, To gain new glories, or augment the old. Urge those who stand, and those who faint, excite; Drown Hector's vaunts in loud exhorts of fight; Conquest, not safety, fill the thoughts of all; Seek not your fleet, but sally from the wall; So Jove once more may drive their routed train, And Troy lie trembling in her walls again."


Their ardour kindles all the Grecian powers; And now the stones descend in heavier showers. As when high Jove his sharp artillery forms, And opes his cloudy magazine of storms; In winter's bleak uncomfortable reign, A snowy inundation hides the plain; He stills the winds, and bids the skies to sleep; Then pours the silent tempest thick and deep; And first the mountain-tops are cover'd o'er, Then the green fields, and then the sandy shore; Bent with the weight, the nodding woods are seen, And one bright waste hides all the works of men: The circling seas, alone absorbing all, Drink the dissolving fleeces as they fall: So from each side increased the stony rain, And the white ruin rises o'er the plain.


Thus godlike Hector and his troops contend To force the ramparts, and the gates to rend: Nor Troy could conquer, nor the Greeks would yield, Till great Sarpedon tower'd amid the field; For mighty Jove inspired with martial flame His matchless son, and urged him on to fame. In arms he shines, conspicuous from afar, And bears aloft his ample shield in air; Within whose orb the thick bull-hides were roll'd, Ponderous with brass, and bound with ductile gold: And while two pointed javelins arm his hands, Majestic moves along, and leads his Lycian bands.


So press'd with hunger, from the mountain's brow Descends a lion on the flocks below; So stalks the lordly savage o'er the plain, In sullen majesty, and stern disdain: In vain loud mastiffs bay him from afar, And shepherds gall him with an iron war; Regardless, furious, he pursues his way; He foams, he roars, he rends the panting prey.


Resolved alike, divine Sarpedon glows With generous rage that drives him on the foes. He views the towers, and meditates their fall, To sure destruction dooms the aspiring wall; Then casting on his friend an ardent look, Fired with the thirst of glory, thus he spoke:


"Why boast we, Glaucus! our extended reign,[226] Where Xanthus' streams enrich the Lycian plain, Our numerous herds that range the fruitful field, And hills where vines their purple harvest yield, Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crown'd, Our feasts enhanced with music's sprightly sound? Why on those shores are we with joy survey'd, Admired as heroes, and as gods obey'd, Unless great acts superior merit prove, And vindicate the bounteous powers above? 'Tis ours, the dignity they give to grace; The first in valour, as the first in place; That when with wondering eyes our martial bands Behold our deeds transcending our commands, Such, they may cry, deserve the sovereign state, Whom those that envy dare not imitate! Could all our care elude the gloomy grave, Which claims no less the fearful and the brave, For lust of fame I should not vainly dare In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war. But since, alas! ignoble age must come, Disease, and death's inexorable doom, The life, which others pay, let us bestow, And give to fame what we to nature owe; Brave though we fall, and honour'd if we live, Or let us glory gain, or glory give!"


He said; his words the listening chief inspire With equal warmth, and rouse the warrior's fire; The troops pursue their leaders with delight, Rush to the foe, and claim the promised fight. Menestheus from on high the storm beheld Threatening the fort, and blackening in the field: Around the walls he gazed, to view from far What aid appear'd to avert the approaching war, And saw where Teucer with the Ajaces stood, Of fight insatiate, prodigal of blood. In vain he calls; the din of helms and shields Rings to the skies, and echoes through the fields, The brazen hinges fly, the walls resound, Heaven trembles, roar the mountains, thunders all the ground. Then thus to Thoos: "Hence with speed (he said), And urge the bold Ajaces to our aid; Their strength, united, best may help to bear The bloody labours of the doubtful war: Hither the Lycian princes bend their course, The best and bravest of the hostile force. But if too fiercely there the foes contend, Let Telamon, at least, our towers defend, And Teucer haste with his unerring bow To share the danger, and repel the foe."


Swift, at the word, the herald speeds along The lofty ramparts, through the martial throng, And finds the heroes bathed in sweat and gore, Opposed in combat on the dusty shore. "Ye valiant leaders of our warlike bands! Your aid (said Thoos) Peteus' son demands; Your strength, united, best may help to bear The bloody labours of the doubtful war: Thither the Lycian princes bend their course, The best and bravest of the hostile force. But if too fiercely, here, the foes contend, At least, let Telamon those towers defend, And Teucer haste with his unerring bow To share the danger, and repel the foe."


Straight to the fort great Ajax turn'd his care, And thus bespoke his brothers of the war: "Now, valiant Lycomede! exert your might, And, brave Oïleus, prove your force in fight; To you I trust the fortune of the field, Till by this arm the foe shall be repell'd: That done, expect me to complete the day. Then with his sevenfold shield he strode away." With equal steps bold Teucer press'd the shore, Whose fatal bow the strong Pandion bore.


High on the walls appear'd the Lycian powers, Like some black tempest gathering round the towers: The Greeks, oppress'd, their utmost force unite, Prepared to labour in the unequal fight: The war renews, mix'd shouts and groans arise; Tumultuous clamour mounts, and thickens in the skies. Fierce Ajax first the advancing host invades, And sends the brave Epicles to the shades, Sarpedon's friend. Across the warrior's way, Rent from the walls, a rocky fragment lay; In modern ages not the strongest swain Could heave the unwieldy burden from the plain: He poised, and swung it round; then toss'd on high, It flew with force, and labour'd up the sky; Full on the Lycian's helmet thundering down, The ponderous ruin crush'd his batter'd crown. As skilful divers from some airy steep Headlong descend, and shoot into the deep, So falls Epicles; then in groans expires, And murmuring to the shades the soul retires.


While to the ramparts daring Glaucus drew, From Teucer's hand a winged arrow flew; The bearded shaft the destined passage found, And on his naked arm inflicts a wound. The chief, who fear'd some foe's insulting boast Might stop the progress of his warlike host, Conceal'd the wound, and, leaping from his height Retired reluctant from the unfinish'd fight. Divine Sarpedon with regret beheld Disabled Glaucus slowly quit the field; His beating breast with generous ardour glows, He springs to fight, and flies upon the foes. Alcmaon first was doom'd his force to feel; Deep in his breast he plunged the pointed steel; Then from the yawning wound with fury tore The spear, pursued by gushing streams of gore: Down sinks the warrior with a thundering sound, His brazen armour rings against the ground.


Swift to the battlement the victor flies, Tugs with full force, and every nerve applies: It shakes; the ponderous stones disjointed yield; The rolling ruins smoke along the field. A mighty breach appears; the walls lie bare; And, like a deluge, rushes in the war. At once bold Teucer draws the twanging bow, And Ajax sends his javelin at the foe; Fix'd in his belt the feather'd weapon stood, And through his buckler drove the trembling wood; But Jove was present in the dire debate, To shield his offspring, and avert his fate. The prince gave back, not meditating flight, But urging vengeance, and severer fight; Then raised with hope, and fired with glory's charms, His fainting squadrons to new fury warms. "O where, ye Lycians, is the strength you boast? Your former fame and ancient virtue lost! The breach lies open, but your chief in vain Attempts alone the guarded pass to gain: Unite, and soon that hostile fleet shall fall: The force of powerful union conquers all."


This just rebuke inflamed the Lycian crew; They join, they thicken, and the assault renew: Unmoved the embodied Greeks their fury dare, And fix'd support the weight of all the war; Nor could the Greeks repel the Lycian powers, Nor the bold Lycians force the Grecian towers. As on the confines of adjoining grounds, Two stubborn swains with blows dispute their bounds; They tug, they sweat; but neither gain, nor yield, One foot, one inch, of the contended field; Thus obstinate to death, they fight, they fall; Nor these can keep, nor those can win the wall. Their manly breasts are pierced with many a wound, Loud strokes are heard, and rattling arms resound; The copious slaughter covers all the shore, And the high ramparts drip with human gore.


As when two scales are charged with doubtful loads, From side to side the trembling balance nods, (While some laborious matron, just and poor, With nice exactness weighs her woolly store,) Till poised aloft, the resting beam suspends Each equal weight; nor this, nor that, descends:[227] So stood the war, till Hector's matchless might, With fates prevailing, turn'd the scale of fight. Fierce as a whirlwind up the walls he flies, And fires his host with loud repeated cries. "Advance, ye Trojans! lend your valiant hands, Haste to the fleet, and toss the blazing brands!" They hear, they run; and, gathering at his call, Raise scaling engines, and ascend the wall: Around the works a wood of glittering spears Shoots up, and all the rising host appears. A ponderous stone bold Hector heaved to throw, Pointed above, and rough and gross below: Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise, Such men as live in these degenerate days: Yet this, as easy as a swain could bear The snowy fleece, he toss'd, and shook in air; For Jove upheld, and lighten'd of its load The unwieldy rock, the labour of a god. Thus arm'd, before the folded gates he came, Of massy substance, and stupendous frame; With iron bars and brazen hinges strong, On lofty beams of solid timber hung: Then thundering through the planks with forceful sway, Drives the sharp rock; the solid beams give way, The folds are shatter'd; from the crackling door Leap the resounding bars, the flying hinges roar. Now rushing in, the furious chief appears, Gloomy as night![228] and shakes two shining spears: A dreadful gleam from his bright armour came, And from his eye-balls flash'd the living flame. He moves a god, resistless in his course, And seems a match for more than mortal force. Then pouring after, through the gaping space, A tide of Trojans flows, and fills the place; The Greeks behold, they tremble, and they fly; The shore is heap'd with death, and tumult rends the sky.


Neptune, concerned for the loss of the Grecians, upon seeing the fortification forced by Hector, (who had entered the gate near the station of the Ajaces,) assumes the shape of Calchas, and inspires those heroes to oppose him: then, in the form of one of the generals, encourages the other Greeks who had retired to their vessels. The Ajaces form their troops in a close phalanx, and put a stop to Hector and the Trojans. Several deeds of valour are performed; Meriones, losing his spear in the encounter, repairs to seek another at the tent of Idomeneus: this occasions a conversation between those two warriors, who return together to the battle. Idomeneus signalizes his courage above the rest; he kills Othryoneus, Asius, and Alcathous: Deiphobus and Æneas march against him, and at length Idomeneus retires. Menelaus wounds Helenus, and kills Pisander. The Trojans are repulsed on the left wing; Hector still keeps his ground against the Ajaces, till, being galled by the Locrian slingers and archers, Polydamas advises to call a council of war: Hector approves of his advice, but goes first to rally the Trojans; upbraids Paris, rejoins Polydamas, meets Ajax again, and renews the attack. The eight-and-twentieth day still continues. The scene is between the Grecian wall and the sea-shore.


When now the Thunderer on the sea-beat coast Had fix'd great Hector and his conquering host, He left them to the fates, in bloody fray To toil and struggle through the well-fought day. Then turn'd to Thracia from the field of fight Those eyes that shed insufferable light, To where the Mysians prove their martial force, And hardy Thracians tame the savage horse; And where the far-famed Hippomolgian strays, Renown'd for justice and for length of days;[229] Thrice happy race! that, innocent of blood, From milk, innoxious, seek their simple food: Jove sees delighted; and avoids the scene Of guilty Troy, of arms, and dying men: No aid, he deems, to either host is given, While his high law suspends the powers of Heaven.


Meantime the monarch of the watery main Observed the Thunderer, nor observed in vain. In Samothracia, on a mountain's brow, Whose waving woods o'erhung the deeps below, He sat; and round him cast his azure eyes Where Ida's misty tops confusedly rise; Below, fair Ilion's glittering spires were seen; The crowded ships and sable seas between. There, from the crystal chambers of the main Emerged, he sat, and mourn'd his Argives slain. At Jove incensed, with grief and fury stung, Prone down the rocky steep he rush'd along; Fierce as he pass'd, the lofty mountains nod, The forest shakes; earth trembled as he trod, And felt the footsteps of the immortal god. From realm to realm three ample strides he took, And, at the fourth, the distant Ægae shook.


Far in the bay his shining palace stands, Eternal frame! not raised by mortal hands: This having reach'd, his brass-hoof'd steeds he reins, Fleet as the winds, and deck'd with golden manes. Refulgent arms his mighty limbs infold, Immortal arms of adamant and gold. He mounts the car, the golden scourge applies, He sits superior, and the chariot flies: His whirling wheels the glassy surface sweep; The enormous monsters rolling o'er the deep Gambol around him on the watery way, And heavy whales in awkward measures play; The sea subsiding spreads a level plain, Exults, and owns the monarch of the main; The parting waves before his coursers fly; The wondering waters leave his axle dry.


Deep in the liquid regions lies a cave, Between where Tenedos the surges lave, And rocky Imbrus breaks the rolling wave: There the great ruler of the azure round Stopp'd his swift chariot, and his steeds unbound, Fed with ambrosial herbage from his hand, And link'd their fetlocks with a golden band, Infrangible, immortal: there they stay: The father of the floods pursues his way: Where, like a tempest, darkening heaven around, Or fiery deluge that devours the ground, The impatient Trojans, in a gloomy throng, Embattled roll'd, as Hector rush'd along: To the loud tumult and the barbarous cry The heavens re-echo, and the shores reply: They vow destruction to the Grecian name, And in their hopes the fleets already flame.


But Neptune, rising from the seas profound, The god whose earthquakes rock the solid ground, Now wears a mortal form; like Calchas seen, Such his loud voice, and such his manly mien; His shouts incessant every Greek inspire, But most the Ajaces, adding fire to fire.


[Illustration: ] NEPTUNE RISING FROM THE SEA


"'Tis yours, O warriors, all our hopes to raise: Oh recollect your ancient worth and praise! 'Tis yours to save us, if you cease to fear; Flight, more than shameful, is destructive here. On other works though Troy with fury fall, And pour her armies o'er our batter'd wall: There Greece has strength: but this, this part o'erthrown, Her strength were vain; I dread for you alone: Here Hector rages like the force of fire, Vaunts of his gods, and calls high Jove his sire: If yet some heavenly power your breast excite, Breathe in your hearts, and string your arms to fight, Greece yet may live, her threaten'd fleet maintain: And Hector's force, and Jove's own aid, be vain."


Then with his sceptre, that the deep controls, He touch'd the chiefs, and steel'd their manly souls: Strength, not their own, the touch divine imparts, Prompts their light limbs, and swells their daring hearts. Then, as a falcon from the rocky height, Her quarry seen, impetuous at the sight, Forth-springing instant, darts herself from high, Shoots on the wing, and skims along the sky: Such, and so swift, the power of ocean flew; The wide horizon shut him from their view.


The inspiring god Oïleus' active son Perceived the first, and thus to Telamon:


"Some god, my friend, some god in human form Favouring descends, and wills to stand the storm. Not Calchas this, the venerable seer; Short as he turned, I saw the power appear: I mark'd his parting, and the steps he trod; His own bright evidence reveals a god. Even now some energy divine I share, And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air!"


"With equal ardour (Telamon returns) My soul is kindled, and my bosom burns; New rising spirits all my force alarm, Lift each impatient limb, and brace my arm. This ready arm, unthinking, shakes the dart; The blood pours back, and fortifies my heart: Singly, methinks, yon towering chief I meet, And stretch the dreadful Hector at my feet."


Full of the god that urged their burning breast, The heroes thus their mutual warmth express'd. Neptune meanwhile the routed Greeks inspired; Who, breathless, pale, with length of labours tired, Pant in the ships; while Troy to conquest calls, And swarms victorious o'er their yielding walls: Trembling before the impending storm they lie, While tears of rage stand burning in their eye. Greece sunk they thought, and this their fatal hour; But breathe new courage as they feel the power. Teucer and Leitus first his words excite; Then stern Peneleus rises to the fight; Thoas, Deipyrus, in arms renown'd, And Merion next, the impulsive fury found; Last Nestor's son the same bold ardour takes, While thus the god the martial fire awakes:


"Oh lasting infamy, oh dire disgrace To chiefs of vigorous youth, and manly race! I trusted in the gods, and you, to see Brave Greece victorious, and her navy free: Ah, no—the glorious combat you disclaim, And one black day clouds all her former fame. Heavens! what a prodigy these eyes survey, Unseen, unthought, till this amazing day! Fly we at length from Troy's oft-conquer'd bands? And falls our fleet by such inglorious hands? A rout undisciplined, a straggling train, Not born to glories of the dusty plain; Like frighted fawns from hill to hill pursued, A prey to every savage of the wood: Shall these, so late who trembled at your name, Invade your camps, involve your ships in flame? A change so shameful, say, what cause has wrought? The soldiers' baseness, or the general's fault? Fools! will ye perish for your leader's vice; The purchase infamy, and life the price? 'Tis not your cause, Achilles' injured fame: Another's is the crime, but yours the shame. Grant that our chief offend through rage or lust, Must you be cowards, if your king's unjust? Prevent this evil, and your country save: Small thought retrieves the spirits of the brave. Think, and subdue! on dastards dead to fame I waste no anger, for they feel no shame: But you, the pride, the flower of all our host, My heart weeps blood to see your glory lost! Nor deem this day, this battle, all you lose; A day more black, a fate more vile, ensues. Let each reflect, who prizes fame or breath, On endless infamy, on instant death: For, lo! the fated time, the appointed shore: Hark! the gates burst, the brazen barriers roar! Impetuous Hector thunders at the wall; The hour, the spot, to conquer, or to fall."


These words the Grecians' fainting hearts inspire, And listening armies catch the godlike fire. Fix'd at his post was each bold Ajax found, With well-ranged squadrons strongly circled round: So close their order, so disposed their fight, As Pallas' self might view with fix'd delight; Or had the god of war inclined his eyes, The god of war had own'd a just surprise. A chosen phalanx, firm, resolved as fate, Descending Hector and his battle wait. An iron scene gleams dreadful o'er the fields, Armour in armour lock'd, and shields in shields, Spears lean on spears, on targets targets throng, Helms stuck to helms, and man drove man along. The floating plumes unnumber'd wave above, As when an earthquake stirs the nodding grove; And levell'd at the skies with pointing rays, Their brandish'd lances at each motion blaze.


Thus breathing death, in terrible array, The close compacted legions urged their way: Fierce they drove on, impatient to destroy; Troy charged the first, and Hector first of Troy. As from some mountain's craggy forehead torn, A rock's round fragment flies, with fury borne, (Which from the stubborn stone a torrent rends,) Precipitate the ponderous mass descends: From steep to steep the rolling ruin bounds; At every shock the crackling wood resounds; Still gathering force, it smokes; and urged amain, Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain: There stops—so Hector. Their whole force he proved,[230] Resistless when he raged, and, when he stopp'd, unmoved.


On him the war is bent, the darts are shed, And all their falchions wave around his head: Repulsed he stands, nor from his stand retires; But with repeated shouts his army fires. "Trojans! be firm; this arm shall make your way Through yon square body, and that black array: Stand, and my spear shall rout their scattering power, Strong as they seem, embattled like a tower; For he that Juno's heavenly bosom warms, The first of gods, this day inspires our arms."


He said; and roused the soul in every breast: Urged with desire of fame, beyond the rest, Forth march'd Deiphobus; but, marching, held Before his wary steps his ample shield. Bold Merion aim'd a stroke (nor aim'd it wide); The glittering javelin pierced the tough bull-hide; But pierced not through: unfaithful to his hand, The point broke short, and sparkled in the sand. The Trojan warrior, touch'd with timely fear, On the raised orb to distance bore the spear. The Greek, retreating, mourn'd his frustrate blow, And cursed the treacherous lance that spared a foe; Then to the ships with surly speed he went, To seek a surer javelin in his tent.


Meanwhile with rising rage the battle glows, The tumult thickens, and the clamour grows. By Teucer's arm the warlike Imbrius bleeds, The son of Mentor, rich in generous steeds. Ere yet to Troy the sons of Greece were led, In fair Pedaeus' verdant pastures bred, The youth had dwelt, remote from war's alarms, And blest in bright Medesicaste's arms: (This nymph, the fruit of Priam's ravish'd joy, Allied the warrior to the house of Troy:) To Troy, when glory call'd his arms, he came, And match'd the bravest of her chiefs in fame: With Priam's sons, a guardian of the throne, He lived, beloved and honour'd as his own. Him Teucer pierced between the throat and ear: He groans beneath the Telamonian spear. As from some far-seen mountain's airy crown, Subdued by steel, a tall ash tumbles down, And soils its verdant tresses on the ground; So falls the youth; his arms the fall resound. Then Teucer rushing to despoil the dead, From Hector's hand a shining javelin fled: He saw, and shunn'd the death; the forceful dart Sung on, and pierced Amphimachus's heart, Cteatus' son, of Neptune's forceful line; Vain was his courage, and his race divine! Prostrate he falls; his clanging arms resound, And his broad buckler thunders on the ground. To seize his beamy helm the victor flies, And just had fastened on the dazzling prize, When Ajax' manly arm a javelin flung; Full on the shield's round boss the weapon rung; He felt the shock, nor more was doom'd to feel, Secure in mail, and sheath'd in shining steel. Repulsed he yields; the victor Greeks obtain The spoils contested, and bear off the slain. Between the leaders of the Athenian line, (Stichius the brave, Menestheus the divine,) Deplored Amphimachus, sad object! lies; Imbrius remains the fierce Ajaces' prize. As two grim lions bear across the lawn, Snatch'd from devouring hounds, a slaughter'd fawn. In their fell jaws high-lifting through the wood, And sprinkling all the shrubs with drops of blood; So these, the chief: great Ajax from the dead Strips his bright arms; Oïleus lops his head: Toss'd like a ball, and whirl'd in air away, At Hector's feet the gory visage lay.


The god of ocean, fired with stern disdain, And pierced with sorrow for his grandson slain, Inspires the Grecian hearts, confirms their hands, And breathes destruction on the Trojan bands. Swift as a whirlwind rushing to the fleet, He finds the lance-famed Idomen of Crete, His pensive brow the generous care express'd With which a wounded soldier touch'd his breast, Whom in the chance of war a javelin tore, And his sad comrades from the battle bore; Him to the surgeons of the camp he sent: That office paid, he issued from his tent Fierce for the fight: to whom the god begun, In Thoas' voice, Andræmon's valiant son, Who ruled where Calydon's white rocks arise, And Pleuron's chalky cliffs emblaze the skies:


"Where's now the imperious vaunt, the daring boast, Of Greece victorious, and proud Ilion lost?"


To whom the king: "On Greece no blame be thrown; Arms are her trade, and war is all her own. Her hardy heroes from the well-fought plains Nor fear withholds, nor shameful sloth detains: 'Tis heaven, alas! and Jove's all-powerful doom, That far, far distant from our native home Wills us to fall inglorious! Oh, my friend! Once foremost in the fight, still prone to lend Or arms or counsels, now perform thy best, And what thou canst not singly, urge the rest."


Thus he: and thus the god whose force can make The solid globe's eternal basis shake: "Ah! never may he see his native land, But feed the vultures on this hateful strand, Who seeks ignobly in his ships to stay, Nor dares to combat on this signal day! For this, behold! in horrid arms I shine, And urge thy soul to rival acts with mine. Together let us battle on the plain; Two, not the worst; nor even this succour vain: Not vain the weakest, if their force unite; But ours, the bravest have confess'd in fight."


This said, he rushes where the combat burns; Swift to his tent the Cretan king returns: From thence, two javelins glittering in his hand, And clad in arms that lighten'd all the strand, Fierce on the foe the impetuous hero drove, Like lightning bursting from the arm of Jove, Which to pale man the wrath of heaven declares, Or terrifies the offending world with wars; In streamy sparkles, kindling all the skies, From pole to pole the trail of glory flies: Thus his bright armour o'er the dazzled throng Gleam'd dreadful, as the monarch flash'd along.


Him, near his tent, Meriones attends; Whom thus he questions: "Ever best of friends! O say, in every art of battle skill'd, What holds thy courage from so brave a field? On some important message art thou bound, Or bleeds my friend by some unhappy wound? Inglorious here, my soul abhors to stay, And glows with prospects of th' approaching day."


"O prince! (Meriones replies) whose care Leads forth the embattled sons of Crete to war; This speaks my grief: this headless lance I wield; The rest lies rooted in a Trojan shield."


To whom the Cretan: "Enter, and receive The wonted weapons; those my tent can give; Spears I have store, (and Trojan lances all,) That shed a lustre round the illumined wall, Though I, disdainful of the distant war, Nor trust the dart, nor aim the uncertain spear, Yet hand to hand I fight, and spoil the slain; And thence these trophies, and these arms I gain. Enter, and see on heaps the helmets roll'd, And high-hung spears, and shields that flame with gold."


"Nor vain (said Merion) are our martial toils; We too can boast of no ignoble spoils: But those my ship contains; whence distant far, I fight conspicuous in the van of war, What need I more? If any Greek there be Who knows not Merion, I appeal to thee."


To this, Idomeneus: "The fields of fight Have proved thy valour, and unconquer'd might: And were some ambush for the foes design'd, Even there thy courage would not lag behind: In that sharp service, singled from the rest, The fear of each, or valour, stands confess'd. No force, no firmness, the pale coward shows; He shifts his place: his colour comes and goes: A dropping sweat creeps cold on every part; Against his bosom beats his quivering heart; Terror and death in his wild eye-balls stare; With chattering teeth he stands, and stiffening hair, And looks a bloodless image of despair! Not so the brave—still dauntless, still the same, Unchanged his colour, and unmoved his frame: Composed his thought, determined is his eye, And fix'd his soul, to conquer or to die: If aught disturb the tenour of his breast, 'Tis but the wish to strike before the rest.


"In such assays thy blameless worth is known, And every art of dangerous war thy own. By chance of fight whatever wounds you bore, Those wounds were glorious all, and all before; Such as may teach, 'twas still thy brave delight T'oppose thy bosom where thy foremost fight. But why, like infants, cold to honour's charms, Stand we to talk, when glory calls to arms? Go—from my conquer'd spears the choicest take, And to their owners send them nobly back."


Swift at the word bold Merion snatch'd a spear And, breathing slaughter, follow'd to the war. So Mars armipotent invades the plain, (The wide destroyer of the race of man,) Terror, his best-beloved son, attends his course, Arm'd with stern boldness, and enormous force; The pride of haughty warriors to confound, And lay the strength of tyrants on the ground: From Thrace they fly, call'd to the dire alarms Of warring Phlegyans, and Ephyrian arms; Invoked by both, relentless they dispose, To these glad conquest, murderous rout to those. So march'd the leaders of the Cretan train, And their bright arms shot horror o'er the plain.


Then first spake Merion: "Shall we join the right, Or combat in the centre of the fight? Or to the left our wonted succour lend? Hazard and fame all parts alike attend."


"Not in the centre (Idomen replied:) Our ablest chieftains the main battle guide; Each godlike Ajax makes that post his care, And gallant Teucer deals destruction there, Skill'd or with shafts to gall the distant field, Or bear close battle on the sounding shield. These can the rage of haughty Hector tame: Safe in their arms, the navy fears no flame, Till Jove himself descends, his bolts to shed, And hurl the blazing ruin at our head. Great must he be, of more than human birth, Nor feed like mortals on the fruits of earth. Him neither rocks can crush, nor steel can wound, Whom Ajax fells not on the ensanguined ground. In standing fight he mates Achilles' force, Excell'd alone in swiftness in the course. Then to the left our ready arms apply, And live with glory, or with glory die."


He said: and Merion to th' appointed place, Fierce as the god of battles, urged his pace. Soon as the foe the shining chiefs beheld Rush like a fiery torrent o'er the field, Their force embodied in a tide they pour; The rising combat sounds along the shore. As warring winds, in Sirius' sultry reign, From different quarters sweep the sandy plain; On every side the dusty whirlwinds rise, And the dry fields are lifted to the skies: Thus by despair, hope, rage, together driven, Met the black hosts, and, meeting, darken'd heaven. All dreadful glared the iron face of war, Bristled with upright spears, that flash'd afar; Dire was the gleam of breastplates, helms, and shields, And polish'd arms emblazed the flaming fields: Tremendous scene! that general horror gave, But touch'd with joy the bosoms of the brave.


Saturn's great sons in fierce contention vied, And crowds of heroes in their anger died. The sire of earth and heaven, by Thetis won To crown with glory Peleus' godlike son, Will'd not destruction to the Grecian powers, But spared awhile the destined Trojan towers; While Neptune, rising from his azure main, Warr'd on the king of heaven with stern disdain, And breathed revenge, and fired the Grecian train. Gods of one source, of one ethereal race, Alike divine, and heaven their native place; But Jove the greater; first-born of the skies, And more than men, or gods, supremely wise. For this, of Jove's superior might afraid, Neptune in human form conceal'd his aid. These powers enfold the Greek and Trojan train In war and discord's adamantine chain, Indissolubly strong: the fatal tie Is stretch'd on both, and close compell'd they die.


Dreadful in arms, and grown in combats grey, The bold Idomeneus controls the day. First by his hand Othryoneus was slain, Swell'd with false hopes, with mad ambition vain; Call'd by the voice of war to martial fame, From high Cabesus' distant walls he came; Cassandra's love he sought, with boasts of power, And promised conquest was the proffer'd dower. The king consented, by his vaunts abused; The king consented, but the fates refused. Proud of himself, and of the imagined bride, The field he measured with a larger stride. Him as he stalk'd, the Cretan javelin found; Vain was his breastplate to repel the wound: His dream of glory lost, he plunged to hell; His arms resounded as the boaster fell. The great Idomeneus bestrides the dead; "And thus (he cries) behold thy promise sped! Such is the help thy arms to Ilion bring, And such the contract of the Phrygian king! Our offers now, illustrious prince! receive; For such an aid what will not Argos give? To conquer Troy, with ours thy forces join, And count Atrides' fairest daughter thine. Meantime, on further methods to advise, Come, follow to the fleet thy new allies; There hear what Greece has on her part to say." He spoke, and dragg'd the gory corse away. This Asius view'd, unable to contain, Before his chariot warring on the plain: (His crowded coursers, to his squire consign'd, Impatient panted on his neck behind:) To vengeance rising with a sudden spring, He hoped the conquest of the Cretan king. The wary Cretan, as his foe drew near, Full on his throat discharged the forceful spear: Beneath the chin the point was seen to glide, And glitter'd, extant at the further side. As when the mountain-oak, or poplar tall, Or pine, fit mast for some great admiral, Groans to the oft-heaved axe, with many a wound, Then spreads a length of ruin o'er the ground: So sunk proud Asius in that dreadful day, And stretch'd before his much-loved coursers lay. He grinds the dust distain'd with streaming gore, And, fierce in death, lies foaming on the shore. Deprived of motion, stiff with stupid fear, Stands all aghast his trembling charioteer, Nor shuns the foe, nor turns the steeds away, But falls transfix'd, an unresisting prey: Pierced by Antilochus, he pants beneath The stately car, and labours out his breath. Thus Asius' steeds (their mighty master gone) Remain the prize of Nestor's youthful son.


Stabb'd at the sight, Deiphobus drew nigh, And made, with force, the vengeful weapon fly. The Cretan saw; and, stooping, caused to glance From his slope shield the disappointed lance. Beneath the spacious targe, (a blazing round, Thick with bull-hides and brazen orbits bound, On his raised arm by two strong braces stay'd,) He lay collected in defensive shade. O'er his safe head the javelin idly sung, And on the tinkling verge more faintly rung. Even then the spear the vigorous arm confess'd, And pierced, obliquely, king Hypsenor's breast: Warm'd in his liver, to the ground it bore The chief, his people's guardian now no more!


"Not unattended (the proud Trojan cries) Nor unrevenged, lamented Asius lies: For thee, through hell's black portals stand display'd, This mate shall joy thy melancholy shade."


Heart-piercing anguish, at the haughty boast, Touch'd every Greek, but Nestor's son the most. Grieved as he was, his pious arms attend, And his broad buckler shields his slaughter'd friend: Till sad Mecistheus and Alastor bore His honour'd body to the tented shore.


Nor yet from fight Idomeneus withdraws; Resolved to perish in his country's cause, Or find some foe, whom heaven and he shall doom To wail his fate in death's eternal gloom. He sees Alcathous in the front aspire: Great Æsyetes was the hero's sire; His spouse Hippodame, divinely fair, Anchises' eldest hope, and darling care: Who charm'd her parents' and her husband's heart With beauty, sense, and every work of art: He once of Ilion's youth the loveliest boy, The fairest she of all the fair of Troy. By Neptune now the hapless hero dies, Who covers with a cloud those beauteous eyes, And fetters every limb: yet bent to meet His fate he stands; nor shuns the lance of Crete. Fix'd as some column, or deep-rooted oak, While the winds sleep; his breast received the stroke. Before the ponderous stroke his corslet yields, Long used to ward the death in fighting fields. The riven armour sends a jarring sound; His labouring heart heaves with so strong a bound, The long lance shakes, and vibrates in the wound; Fast flowing from its source, as prone he lay, Life's purple tide impetuous gush'd away.


Then Idomen, insulting o'er the slain: "Behold, Deiphobus! nor vaunt in vain: See! on one Greek three Trojan ghosts attend; This, my third victim, to the shades I send. Approaching now thy boasted might approve, And try the prowess of the seed of Jove. From Jove, enamour'd of a mortal dame, Great Minos, guardian of his country, came: Deucalion, blameless prince, was Minos' heir; His first-born I, the third from Jupiter: O'er spacious Crete, and her bold sons, I reign, And thence my ships transport me through the main: Lord of a host, o'er all my host I shine, A scourge to thee, thy father, and thy line."


The Trojan heard; uncertain or to meet, Alone, with venturous arms the king of Crete, Or seek auxiliar force; at length decreed To call some hero to partake the deed, Forthwith Æneas rises to his thought: For him in Troy's remotest lines he sought, Where he, incensed at partial Priam, stands, And sees superior posts in meaner hands. To him, ambitious of so great an aid, The bold Deiphobus approach'd, and said:


"Now, Trojan prince, employ thy pious arms, If e'er thy bosom felt fair honour's charms. Alcathous dies, thy brother and thy friend; Come, and the warrior's loved remains defend. Beneath his cares thy early youth was train'd, One table fed you, and one roof contain'd. This deed to fierce Idomeneus we owe; Haste, and revenge it on th' insulting foe."


Æneas heard, and for a space resign'd To tender pity all his manly mind; Then rising in his rage, he burns to fight: The Greek awaits him with collected might. As the fell boar, on some rough mountain's head, Arm'd with wild terrors, and to slaughter bred, When the loud rustics rise, and shout from far, Attends the tumult, and expects the war; O'er his bent back the bristly horrors rise; Fires stream in lightning from his sanguine eyes, His foaming tusks both dogs and men engage; But most his hunters rouse his mighty rage: So stood Idomeneus, his javelin shook, And met the Trojan with a lowering look. Antilochus, Deipyrus, were near, The youthful offspring of the god of war, Merion, and Aphareus, in field renown'd: To these the warrior sent his voice around. "Fellows in arms! your timely aid unite; Lo, great Æneas rushes to the fight: Sprung from a god, and more than mortal bold; He fresh in youth, and I in arms grown old. Else should this hand, this hour decide the strife, The great dispute, of glory, or of life."


He spoke, and all, as with one soul, obey'd; Their lifted bucklers cast a dreadful shade Around the chief. Æneas too demands Th' assisting forces of his native bands; Paris, Deiphobus, Agenor, join; (Co-aids and captains of the Trojan line;) In order follow all th' embodied train, Like Ida's flocks proceeding o'er the plain; Before his fleecy care, erect and bold, Stalks the proud ram, the father of the bold. With joy the swain surveys them, as he leads To the cool fountains, through the well-known meads: So joys Æneas, as his native band Moves on in rank, and stretches o'er the land.


Round dread Alcathous now the battle rose; On every side the steely circle grows; Now batter'd breast-plates and hack'd helmets ring, And o'er their heads unheeded javelins sing. Above the rest, two towering chiefs appear, There great Idomeneus, Æneas here. Like gods of war, dispensing fate, they stood, And burn'd to drench the ground with mutual blood. The Trojan weapon whizz'd along in air; The Cretan saw, and shunn'd the brazen spear: Sent from an arm so strong, the missive wood Stuck deep in earth, and quiver'd where it stood. But OEnomas received the Cretan's stroke; The forceful spear his hollow corslet broke, It ripp'd his belly with a ghastly wound, And roll'd the smoking entrails on the ground. Stretch'd on the plain, he sobs away his breath, And, furious, grasps the bloody dust in death. The victor from his breast the weapon tears; His spoils he could not, for the shower of spears. Though now unfit an active war to wage, Heavy with cumbrous arms, stiff with cold age, His listless limbs unable for the course, In standing fight he yet maintains his force; Till faint with labour, and by foes repell'd, His tired slow steps he drags from off the field. Deiphobus beheld him as he pass'd, And, fired with hate, a parting javelin cast: The javelin err'd, but held its course along, And pierced Ascalaphus, the brave and young: The son of Mars fell gasping on the ground, And gnash'd the dust, all bloody with his wound.


Nor knew the furious father of his fall; High-throned amidst the great Olympian hall, On golden clouds th' immortal synod sate; Detain'd from bloody war by Jove and Fate.


Now, where in dust the breathless hero lay, For slain Ascalaphus commenced the fray, Deiphobus to seize his helmet flies, And from his temples rends the glittering prize; Valiant as Mars, Meriones drew near, And on his loaded arm discharged his spear: He drops the weight, disabled with the pain; The hollow helmet rings against the plain. Swift as a vulture leaping on his prey, From his torn arm the Grecian rent away The reeking javelin, and rejoin'd his friends. His wounded brother good Polites tends; Around his waist his pious arms he threw, And from the rage of battle gently drew: Him his swift coursers, on his splendid car, Rapt from the lessening thunder of the war; To Troy they drove him, groaning from the shore, And sprinkling, as he pass'd, the sands with gore.


Meanwhile fresh slaughter bathes the sanguine ground, Heaps fall on heaps, and heaven and earth resound. Bold Aphareus by great Æneas bled; As toward the chief he turn'd his daring head, He pierced his throat; the bending head, depress'd Beneath his helmet, nods upon his breast; His shield reversed o'er the fallen warrior lies, And everlasting slumber seals his eyes. Antilochus, as Thoon turn'd him round, Transpierced his back with a dishonest wound: The hollow vein, that to the neck extends Along the chine, his eager javelin rends: Supine he falls, and to his social train Spreads his imploring arms, but spreads in vain. Thv exulting victor, leaping where he lay, From his broad shoulders tore the spoils away; His time observed; for closed by foes around, On all sides thick the peals of arms resound. His shield emboss'd the ringing storm sustains, But he impervious and untouch'd remains. (Great Neptune's care preserved from hostile rage This youth, the joy of Nestor's glorious age.) In arms intrepid, with the first he fought, Faced every foe, and every danger sought; His winged lance, resistless as the wind, Obeys each motion of the master's mind! Restless it flies, impatient to be free, And meditates the distant enemy. The son of Asius, Adamas, drew near, And struck his target with the brazen spear Fierce in his front: but Neptune wards the blow, And blunts the javelin of th' eluded foe: In the broad buckler half the weapon stood, Splinter'd on earth flew half the broken wood. Disarm'd, he mingled in the Trojan crew; But Merion's spear o'ertook him as he flew, Deep in the belly's rim an entrance found, Where sharp the pang, and mortal is the wound. Bending he fell, and doubled to the ground, Lay panting. Thus an ox in fetters tied, While death's strong pangs distend his labouring side, His bulk enormous on the field displays; His heaving heart beats thick as ebbing life decays. The spear the conqueror from his body drew, And death's dim shadows swarm before his view. Next brave Deipyrus in dust was laid: King Helenus waved high the Thracian blade, And smote his temples with an arm so strong, The helm fell off, and roll'd amid the throng: There for some luckier Greek it rests a prize; For dark in death the godlike owner lies! Raging with grief, great Menelaus burns, And fraught with vengeance, to the victor turns: That shook the ponderous lance, in act to throw; And this stood adverse with the bended bow: Full on his breast the Trojan arrow fell, But harmless bounded from the plated steel. As on some ample barn's well harden'd floor, (The winds collected at each open door,) While the broad fan with force is whirl'd around, Light leaps the golden grain, resulting from the ground: So from the steel that guards Atrides' heart, Repell'd to distance flies the bounding dart. Atrides, watchful of the unwary foe, Pierced with his lance the hand that grasp'd the bow. And nailed it to the yew: the wounded hand Trail'd the long lance that mark'd with blood the sand: But good Agenor gently from the wound The spear solicits, and the bandage bound; A sling's soft wool, snatch'd from a soldier's side, At once the tent and ligature supplied.


Behold! Pisander, urged by fate's decree, Springs through the ranks to fall, and fall by thee, Great Menelaus! to enchance thy fame: High-towering in the front, the warrior came. First the sharp lance was by Atrides thrown; The lance far distant by the winds was blown. Nor pierced Pisander through Atrides' shield: Pisander's spear fell shiver'd on the field. Not so discouraged, to the future blind, Vain dreams of conquest swell his haughty mind; Dauntless he rushes where the Spartan lord Like lightning brandish'd his far beaming sword. His left arm high opposed the shining shield: His right beneath, the cover'd pole-axe held; (An olive's cloudy grain the handle made, Distinct with studs, and brazen was the blade;) This on the helm discharged a noble blow; The plume dropp'd nodding to the plain below, Shorn from the crest. Atrides waved his steel: Deep through his front the weighty falchion fell; The crashing bones before its force gave way; In dust and blood the groaning hero lay: Forced from their ghastly orbs, and spouting gore, The clotted eye-balls tumble on the shore. And fierce Atrides spurn'd him as he bled, Tore off his arms, and, loud-exulting, said:


"Thus, Trojans, thus, at length be taught to fear; O race perfidious, who delight in war! Already noble deeds ye have perform'd; A princess raped transcends a navy storm'd: In such bold feats your impious might approve, Without th' assistance, or the fear of Jove. The violated rites, the ravish'd dame; Our heroes slaughter'd and our ships on flame, Crimes heap'd on crimes, shall bend your glory down, And whelm in ruins yon flagitious town. O thou, great father! lord of earth and skies, Above the thought of man, supremely wise! If from thy hand the fates of mortals flow, From whence this favour to an impious foe? A godless crew, abandon'd and unjust, Still breathing rapine, violence, and lust? The best of things, beyond their measure, cloy; Sleep's balmy blessing, love's endearing joy; The feast, the dance; whate'er mankind desire, Even the sweet charms of sacred numbers tire. But Troy for ever reaps a dire delight In thirst of slaughter, and in lust of fight."


This said, he seized (while yet the carcase heaved) The bloody armour, which his train received: Then sudden mix'd among the warring crew, And the bold son of Pylæmenes slew. Harpalion had through Asia travell'd far, Following his martial father to the war: Through filial love he left his native shore, Never, ah, never to behold it more! His unsuccessful spear he chanced to fling Against the target of the Spartan king; Thus of his lance disarm'd, from death he flies, And turns around his apprehensive eyes. Him, through the hip transpiercing as he fled, The shaft of Merion mingled with the dead. Beneath the bone the glancing point descends, And, driving down, the swelling bladder rends: Sunk in his sad companions' arms he lay, And in short pantings sobb'd his soul away; (Like some vile worm extended on the ground;) While life's red torrent gush'd from out the wound.


Him on his car the Paphlagonian train In slow procession bore from off the plain. The pensive father, father now no more! Attends the mournful pomp along the shore; And unavailing tears profusely shed; And, unrevenged, deplored his offspring dead.


Paris from far the moving sight beheld, With pity soften'd and with fury swell'd: His honour'd host, a youth of matchless grace, And loved of all the Paphlagonian race! With his full strength he bent his angry bow, And wing'd the feather'd vengeance at the foe. A chief there was, the brave Euchenor named, For riches much, and more for virtue famed. Who held his seat in Corinth's stately town; Polydus' son, a seer of old renown. Oft had the father told his early doom, By arms abroad, or slow disease at home: He climb'd his vessel, prodigal of breath, And chose the certain glorious path to death. Beneath his ear the pointed arrow went; The soul came issuing at the narrow vent: His limbs, unnerved, drop useless on the ground, And everlasting darkness shades him round.


Nor knew great Hector how his legions yield, (Wrapp'd in the cloud and tumult of the field:) Wide on the left the force of Greece commands, And conquest hovers o'er th' Achaian bands; With such a tide superior virtue sway'd, And he that shakes the solid earth gave aid. But in the centre Hector fix'd remain'd, Where first the gates were forced, and bulwarks gain'd; There, on the margin of the hoary deep, (Their naval station where the Ajaces keep. And where low walls confine the beating tides, Whose humble barrier scarce the foe divides; Where late in fight both foot and horse engaged, And all the thunder of the battle raged,) There join'd, the whole Bœotian strength remains, The proud Iaonians with their sweeping trains, Locrians and Phthians, and th' Epaean force; But join'd, repel not Hector's fiery course. The flower of Athens, Stichius, Phidas, led; Bias and great Menestheus at their head: Meges the strong the Epaean bands controll'd, And Dracius prudent, and Amphion bold: The Phthians, Medon, famed for martial might, And brave Podarces, active in the fight. This drew from Phylacus his noble line; Iphiclus' son: and that (Oïleus) thine: (Young Ajax' brother, by a stolen embrace; He dwelt far distant from his native place, By his fierce step-dame from his father's reign Expell'd and exiled for her brother slain:) These rule the Phthians, and their arms employ, Mix'd with Bœotians, on the shores of Troy.


Now side by side, with like unwearied care, Each Ajax laboured through the field of war: So when two lordly bulls, with equal toil, Force the bright ploughshare through the fallow soil, Join'd to one yoke, the stubborn earth they tear, And trace large furrows with the shining share; O'er their huge limbs the foam descends in snow, And streams of sweat down their sour foreheads flow. A train of heroes followed through the field, Who bore by turns great Ajax' sevenfold shield; Whene'er he breathed, remissive of his might, Tired with the incessant slaughters of the fight. No following troops his brave associate grace: In close engagement an unpractised race, The Locrian squadrons nor the javelin wield, Nor bear the helm, nor lift the moony shield; But skill'd from far the flying shaft to wing, Or whirl the sounding pebble from the sling, Dexterous with these they aim a certain wound, Or fell the distant warrior to the ground. Thus in the van the Telamonian train, Throng'd in bright arms, a pressing fight maintain: Far in the rear the Locrian archers lie, Whose stones and arrows intercept the sky, The mingled tempest on the foes they pour; Troy's scattering orders open to the shower.


Now had the Greeks eternal fame acquired, And the gall'd Ilians to their walls retired; But sage Polydamas, discreetly brave, Address'd great Hector, and this counsel gave:


"Though great in all, thou seem'st averse to lend Impartial audience to a faithful friend; To gods and men thy matchless worth is known, And every art of glorious war thy own; But in cool thought and counsel to excel, How widely differs this from warring well! Content with what the bounteous gods have given, Seek not alone to engross the gifts of Heaven. To some the powers of bloody war belong, To some sweet music and the charm of song; To few, and wondrous few, has Jove assign'd A wise, extensive, all-considering mind; Their guardians these, the nations round confess, And towns and empires for their safety bless. If Heaven have lodged this virtue in my breast, Attend, O Hector! what I judge the best, See, as thou mov'st, on dangers dangers spread, And war's whole fury burns around thy head. Behold! distress'd within yon hostile wall, How many Trojans yield, disperse, or fall! What troops, out-number'd, scarce the war maintain! And what brave heroes at the ships lie slain! Here cease thy fury: and, the chiefs and kings Convoked to council, weigh the sum of things. Whether (the gods succeeding our desires) To yon tall ships to bear the Trojan fires; Or quit the fleet, and pass unhurt away, Contented with the conquest of the day. I fear, I fear, lest Greece, not yet undone, Pay the large debt of last revolving sun; Achilles, great Achilles, yet remains On yonder decks, and yet o'erlooks the plains!"


The counsel pleased; and Hector, with a bound, Leap'd from his chariot on the trembling ground; Swift as he leap'd his clanging arms resound. "To guard this post (he cried) thy art employ, And here detain the scatter'd youth of Troy; Where yonder heroes faint, I bend my way, And hasten back to end the doubtful day."


This said, the towering chief prepares to go, Shakes his white plumes that to the breezes flow, And seems a moving mountain topp'd with snow. Through all his host, inspiring force, he flies, And bids anew the martial thunder rise. To Panthus' son, at Hector's high command Haste the bold leaders of the Trojan band: But round the battlements, and round the plain, For many a chief he look'd, but look'd in vain; Deiphobus, nor Helenus the seer, Nor Asius' son, nor Asius' self appear: For these were pierced with many a ghastly wound, Some cold in death, some groaning on the ground; Some low in dust, (a mournful object) lay; High on the wall some breathed their souls away.


Far on the left, amid the throng he found (Cheering the troops, and dealing deaths around) The graceful Paris; whom, with fury moved, Opprobrious thus, th' impatient chief reproved:


"Ill-fated Paris! slave to womankind, As smooth of face as fraudulent of mind! Where is Deiphobus, where Asius gone? The godlike father, and th' intrepid son? The force of Helenus, dispensing fate; And great Othryoneus, so fear'd of late? Black fate hang's o'er thee from th' avenging gods, Imperial Troy from her foundations nods; Whelm'd in thy country's ruin shalt thou fall, And one devouring vengeance swallow all."


When Paris thus: "My brother and my friend, Thy warm impatience makes thy tongue offend, In other battles I deserved thy blame, Though then not deedless, nor unknown to fame: But since yon rampart by thy arms lay low, I scatter'd slaughter from my fatal bow. The chiefs you seek on yonder shore lie slain; Of all those heroes, two alone remain; Deiphobus, and Helenus the seer, Each now disabled by a hostile spear. Go then, successful, where thy soul inspires: This heart and hand shall second all thy fires: What with this arm I can, prepare to know, Till death for death be paid, and blow for blow. But 'tis not ours, with forces not our own To combat: strength is of the gods alone." These words the hero's angry mind assuage: Then fierce they mingle where the thickest rage. Around Polydamas, distain'd with blood, Cebrion, Phalces, stern Orthaeus stood, Palmus, with Polypœtes the divine, And two bold brothers of Hippotion's line (Who reach'd fair Ilion, from Ascania far, The former day; the next engaged in war). As when from gloomy clouds a whirlwind springs, That bears Jove's thunder on its dreadful wings, Wide o'er the blasted fields the tempest sweeps; Then, gather'd, settles on the hoary deeps; The afflicted deeps tumultuous mix and roar; The waves behind impel the waves before, Wide rolling, foaming high, and tumbling to the shore: Thus rank on rank, the thick battalions throng, Chief urged on chief, and man drove man along. Far o'er the plains, in dreadful order bright, The brazen arms reflect a beamy light: Full in the blazing van great Hector shined, Like Mars commission'd to confound mankind. Before him flaming his enormous shield, Like the broad sun, illumined all the field; His nodding helm emits a streamy ray; His piercing eyes through all the battle stray, And, while beneath his targe he flash'd along, Shot terrors round, that wither'd e'en the strong.


Thus stalk'd he, dreadful; death was in his look: Whole nations fear'd; but not an Argive shook. The towering Ajax, with an ample stride, Advanced the first, and thus the chief defied:


"Hector! come on; thy empty threats forbear; 'Tis not thy arm, 'tis thundering Jove we fear: The skill of war to us not idly given, Lo! Greece is humbled, not by Troy, but Heaven. Vain are the hopes that haughty mind imparts, To force our fleet: the Greeks have hands and hearts. Long ere in flames our lofty navy fall, Your boasted city, and your god-built wall, Shall sink beneath us, smoking on the ground; And spread a long unmeasured ruin round. The time shall come, when, chased along the plain, Even thou shalt call on Jove, and call in vain; Even thou shalt wish, to aid thy desperate course, The wings of falcons for thy flying horse; Shalt run, forgetful of a warrior's fame, While clouds of friendly dust conceal thy shame."


As thus he spoke, behold, in open view, On sounding wings a dexter eagle flew. To Jove's glad omen all the Grecians rise, And hail, with shouts, his progress through the skies: Far-echoing clamours bound from side to side; They ceased; and thus the chief of Troy replied:


"From whence this menace, this insulting strain? Enormous boaster! doom'd to vaunt in vain. So may the gods on Hector life bestow, (Not that short life which mortals lead below, But such as those of Jove's high lineage born, The blue-eyed maid, or he that gilds the morn,) As this decisive day shall end the fame Of Greece, and Argos be no more a name. And thou, imperious! if thy madness wait The lance of Hector, thou shalt meet thy fate: That giant-corse, extended on the shore, Shall largely feast the fowls with fat and gore."


He said; and like a lion stalk'd along: With shouts incessant earth and ocean rung, Sent from his following host: the Grecian train With answering thunders fill'd the echoing plain; A shout that tore heaven's concave, and, above, Shook the fix'd splendours of the throne of Jove.


Nestor, sitting at the table with Machaon, is alarmed with the increasing clamour of war, and hastens to Agamemnon; on his way he meets that prince with Diomed and Ulysses, whom he informs of the extremity of the danger. Agamemnon proposes to make their escape by night, which Ulysses withstands; to which Diomed adds his advice, that, wounded as they were, they should go forth and encourage the army with their presence, which advice is pursued. Juno, seeing the partiality of Jupiter to the Trojans, forms a design to over-reach him: she sets off her charms with the utmost care, and (the more surely to enchant him) obtains the magic girdle of Venus. She then applies herself to the god of sleep, and, with some difficulty, persuades him to seal the eyes of Jupiter: this done, she goes to mount Ida, where the god, at first sight, is ravished with her beauty, sinks in her embraces, and is laid asleep. Neptune takes advantage of his slumber, and succours the Greeks: Hector is struck to the ground with a prodigious stone by Ajax, and carried off from the battle: several actions succeed, till the Trojans, much distressed, are obliged to give way: the lesser Ajax signalizes himself in a particular manner.


But not the genial feast, nor flowing bowl, Could charm the cares of Nestor's watchful soul; His startled ears the increasing cries attend; Then thus, impatient, to his wounded friend:


"What new alarm, divine Machaon, say, What mix'd events attend this mighty day? Hark! how the shouts divide, and how they meet, And now come full, and thicken to the fleet! Here with the cordial draught dispel thy care, Let Hecamede the strengthening bath prepare, Refresh thy wound, and cleanse the clotted gore; While I the adventures of the day explore."


He said: and, seizing Thrasymedes' shield, (His valiant offspring,) hasten'd to the field; (That day the son his father's buckler bore;) Then snatch'd a lance, and issued from the door. Soon as the prospect open'd to his view, His wounded eyes the scene of sorrow knew; Dire disarray! the tumult of the fight, The wall in ruins, and the Greeks in flight. As when old ocean's silent surface sleeps, The waves just heaving on the purple deeps: While yet the expected tempest hangs on high, Weighs down the cloud, and blackens in the sky, The mass of waters will no wind obey; Jove sends one gust, and bids them roll away. While wavering counsels thus his mind engage, Fluctuates in doubtful thought the Pylian sage, To join the host, or to the general haste; Debating long, he fixes on the last: Yet, as he moves, the sight his bosom warms, The field rings dreadful with the clang of arms, The gleaming falchions flash, the javelins fly; Blows echo blows, and all or kill or die.


Him, in his march, the wounded princes meet, By tardy steps ascending from the fleet: The king of men, Ulysses the divine, And who to Tydeus owes his noble line[232] (Their ships at distance from the battle stand, In lines advanced along the shelving strand: Whose bay, the fleet unable to contain At length; beside the margin of the main, Rank above rank, the crowded ships they moor: Who landed first, lay highest on the shore.) Supported on the spears, they took their way, Unfit to fight, but anxious for the day. Nestor's approach alarm'd each Grecian breast, Whom thus the general of the host address'd:


"O grace and glory of the Achaian name; What drives thee, Nestor, from the field of fame? Shall then proud Hector see his boast fulfill'd, Our fleets in ashes, and our heroes kill'd? Such was his threat, ah! now too soon made good, On many a Grecian bosom writ in blood. Is every heart inflamed with equal rage Against your king, nor will one chief engage? And have I lived to see with mournful eyes In every Greek a new Achilles rise?"


Gerenian Nestor then: "So fate has will'd; And all-confirming time has fate fulfill'd. Not he that thunders from the aerial bower, Not Jove himself, upon the past has power. The wall, our late inviolable bound, And best defence, lies smoking on the ground: Even to the ships their conquering arms extend, And groans of slaughter'd Greeks to heaven ascend. On speedy measures then employ your thought In such distress! if counsel profit aught: Arms cannot much: though Mars our souls incite, These gaping wounds withhold us from the fight."