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


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


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


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


[Illustration: ] THE SHIELD OF ACHILLES


Agamemnon, after the last day's defeat, proposes to the Greeks to quit the siege, and return to their country. Diomed opposes this, and Nestor seconds him, praising his wisdom and resolution. He orders the guard to be strengthened, and a council summoned to deliberate what measures are to be followed in this emergency. Agamemnon pursues this advice, and Nestor further prevails upon him to send ambassadors to Achilles, in order to move him to a reconciliation. Ulysses and Ajax are made choice of, who are accompanied by old Phœnix. They make, each of them, very moving and pressing speeches, but are rejected with roughness by Achilles, who notwithstanding retains Phœnix in his tent. The ambassadors return unsuccessfully to the camp, and the troops betake themselves to sleep. This book, and the next following, take up the space of one night, which is the twenty-seventh from the beginning of the poem. The scene lies on the sea-shore, the station of the Grecian ships.


Thus joyful Troy maintain'd the watch of night; While fear, pale comrade of inglorious flight,[199] And heaven-bred horror, on the Grecian part, Sat on each face, and sadden'd every heart. As from its cloudy dungeon issuing forth, A double tempest of the west and north Swells o'er the sea, from Thracia's frozen shore, Heaps waves on waves, and bids the Ægean roar: This way and that the boiling deeps are toss'd: Such various passions urged the troubled host, Great Agamemnon grieved above the rest; Superior sorrows swell'd his royal breast; Himself his orders to the heralds bears, To bid to council all the Grecian peers, But bid in whispers: these surround their chief, In solemn sadness and majestic grief. The king amidst the mournful circle rose: Down his wan cheek a briny torrent flows. So silent fountains, from a rock's tall head, In sable streams soft-trickling waters shed. With more than vulgar grief he stood oppress'd; Words, mix'd with sighs, thus bursting from his breast:


"Ye sons of Greece! partake your leader's care; Fellows in arms and princes of the war! Of partial Jove too justly we complain, And heavenly oracles believed in vain. A safe return was promised to our toils, With conquest honour'd and enrich'd with spoils: Now shameful flight alone can save the host; Our wealth, our people, and our glory lost. So Jove decrees, almighty lord of all! Jove, at whose nod whole empires rise or fall, Who shakes the feeble props of human trust, And towers and armies humbles to the dust. Haste then, for ever quit these fatal fields, Haste to the joys our native country yields; Spread all your canvas, all your oars employ, Nor hope the fall of heaven-defended Troy."


He said: deep silence held the Grecian band; Silent, unmov'd in dire dismay they stand; A pensive scene! till Tydeus' warlike son Roll'd on the king his eyes, and thus begun: "When kings advise us to renounce our fame, First let him speak who first has suffer'd shame. If I oppose thee, prince! thy wrath withhold, The laws of council bid my tongue be bold. Thou first, and thou alone, in fields of fight, Durst brand my courage, and defame my might: Nor from a friend the unkind reproach appear'd, The Greeks stood witness, all our army heard. The gods, O chief! from whom our honours spring, The gods have made thee but by halves a king: They gave thee sceptres, and a wide command; They gave dominion o'er the seas and land; The noblest power that might the world control They gave thee not—a brave and virtuous soul. Is this a general's voice, that would suggest Fears like his own to every Grecian breast? Confiding in our want of worth, he stands; And if we fly, 'tis what our king commands. Go thou, inglorious! from the embattled plain; Ships thou hast store, and nearest to the main; A noble care the Grecians shall employ, To combat, conquer, and extirpate Troy. Here Greece shall stay; or, if all Greece retire, Myself shall stay, till Troy or I expire; Myself, and Sthenelus, will fight for fame; God bade us fight, and 'twas with God we came."


He ceased; the Greeks loud acclamations raise, And voice to voice resounds Tydides' praise. Wise Nestor then his reverend figure rear'd; He spoke: the host in still attention heard:[200]


"O truly great! in whom the gods have join'd Such strength of body with such force of mind: In conduct, as in courage, you excel, Still first to act what you advise so well. These wholesome counsels which thy wisdom moves, Applauding Greece with common voice approves. Kings thou canst blame; a bold but prudent youth: And blame even kings with praise, because with truth. And yet those years that since thy birth have run Would hardly style thee Nestor's youngest son. Then let me add what yet remains behind, A thought unfinish'd in that generous mind; Age bids me speak! nor shall the advice I bring Distaste the people, or offend the king:


"Cursed is the man, and void of law and right, Unworthy property, unworthy light, Unfit for public rule, or private care, That wretch, that monster, who delights in war; Whose lust is murder, and whose horrid joy, To tear his country, and his kind destroy! This night, refresh and fortify thy train; Between the trench and wall let guards remain: Be that the duty of the young and bold; But thou, O king, to council call the old; Great is thy sway, and weighty are thy cares; Thy high commands must spirit all our wars. With Thracian wines recruit thy honour'd guests, For happy counsels flow from sober feasts. Wise, weighty counsels aid a state distress'd, And such a monarch as can choose the best. See what a blaze from hostile tents aspires, How near our fleet approach the Trojan fires! Who can, unmoved, behold the dreadful light? What eye beholds them, and can close to-night? This dreadful interval determines all; To-morrow, Troy must flame, or Greece must fall."


Thus spoke the hoary sage: the rest obey; Swift through the gates the guards direct their way. His son was first to pass the lofty mound, The generous Thrasymed, in arms renown'd: Next him, Ascalaphus, Iälmen, stood, The double offspring of the warrior-god: Deipyrus, Aphareus, Merion join, And Lycomed of Creon's noble line. Seven were the leaders of the nightly bands, And each bold chief a hundred spears commands. The fires they light, to short repasts they fall, Some line the trench, and others man the wall.


The king of men, on public counsels bent, Convened the princes in his ample tent, Each seized a portion of the kingly feast, But stay'd his hand when thirst and hunger ceased. Then Nestor spoke, for wisdom long approved, And slowly rising, thus the council moved.


"Monarch of nations! whose superior sway Assembled states, and lords of earth obey, The laws and sceptres to thy hand are given, And millions own the care of thee and Heaven. O king! the counsels of my age attend; With thee my cares begin, with thee must end. Thee, prince! it fits alike to speak and hear, Pronounce with judgment, with regard give ear, To see no wholesome motion be withstood, And ratify the best for public good. Nor, though a meaner give advice, repine, But follow it, and make the wisdom thine. Hear then a thought, not now conceived in haste, At once my present judgment and my past. When from Pelides' tent you forced the maid, I first opposed, and faithful, durst dissuade; But bold of soul, when headlong fury fired, You wronged the man, by men and gods admired: Now seek some means his fatal wrath to end, With prayers to move him, or with gifts to bend."


To whom the king. "With justice hast thou shown A prince's faults, and I with reason own. That happy man, whom Jove still honours most, Is more than armies, and himself a host. Bless'd in his love, this wondrous hero stands; Heaven fights his war, and humbles all our bands. Fain would my heart, which err'd through frantic rage, The wrathful chief and angry gods assuage. If gifts immense his mighty soul can bow,[201] Hear, all ye Greeks, and witness what I vow. Ten weighty talents of the purest gold, And twice ten vases of refulgent mould: Seven sacred tripods, whose unsullied frame Yet knows no office, nor has felt the flame; Twelve steeds unmatch'd in fleetness and in force, And still victorious in the dusty course; (Rich were the man whose ample stores exceed The prizes purchased by their winged speed;) Seven lovely captives of the Lesbian line, Skill'd in each art, unmatch'd in form divine, The same I chose for more than vulgar charms, When Lesbos sank beneath the hero's arms: All these, to buy his friendship, shall be paid, And join'd with these the long-contested maid; With all her charms, Briseïs I resign, And solemn swear those charms were never mine; Untouch'd she stay'd, uninjured she removes, Pure from my arms, and guiltless of my loves,[202] These instant shall be his; and if the powers Give to our arms proud Ilion's hostile towers, Then shall he store (when Greece the spoil divides) With gold and brass his loaded navy's sides: Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan race With copious love shall crown his warm embrace, Such as himself will choose; who yield to none, Or yield to Helen's heavenly charms alone. Yet hear me further: when our wars are o'er, If safe we land on Argos' fruitful shore, There shall he live my son, our honours share, And with Orestes' self divide my care. Yet more—three daughters in my court are bred, And each well worthy of a royal bed; Laodice and Iphigenia fair,[203] And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair; Her let him choose whom most his eyes approve, I ask no presents, no reward for love: Myself will give the dower; so vast a store As never father gave a child before. Seven ample cities shall confess his sway, Him Enope, and Pheræ him obey, Cardamyle with ample turrets crown'd, And sacred Pedasus for vines renown'd; Æpea fair, the pastures Hira yields, And rich Antheia with her flowery fields:[204] The whole extent to Pylos' sandy plain, Along the verdant margin of the main. There heifers graze, and labouring oxen toil; Bold are the men, and generous is the soil; There shall he reign, with power and justice crown'd, And rule the tributary realms around. All this I give, his vengeance to control, And sure all this may move his mighty soul. Pluto, the grisly god, who never spares, Who feels no mercy, and who hears no prayers, Lives dark and dreadful in deep hell's abodes, And mortals hate him, as the worst of gods. Great though he be, it fits him to obey, Since more than his my years, and more my sway."


The monarch thus. The reverend Nestor then: "Great Agamemnon! glorious king of men! Such are thy offers as a prince may take, And such as fits a generous king to make. Let chosen delegates this hour be sent (Myself will name them) to Pelides' tent. Let Phœnix lead, revered for hoary age, Great Ajax next, and Ithacus the sage. Yet more to sanctify the word you send, Let Hodius and Eurybates attend. Now pray to Jove to grant what Greece demands; Pray in deep silence,[205] and with purest hands."[206]


[Illustration: ] THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES


He said; and all approved. The heralds bring The cleansing water from the living spring. The youth with wine the sacred goblets crown'd, And large libations drench'd the sands around. The rite perform'd, the chiefs their thirst allay, Then from the royal tent they take their way; Wise Nestor turns on each his careful eye, Forbids to offend, instructs them to apply; Much he advised them all, Ulysses most, To deprecate the chief, and save the host. Through the still night they march, and hear the roar Of murmuring billows on the sounding shore. To Neptune, ruler of the seas profound, Whose liquid arms the mighty globe surround, They pour forth vows, their embassy to bless, And calm the rage of stern Æacides. And now, arrived, where on the sandy bay The Myrmidonian tents and vessels lay; Amused at ease, the godlike man they found, Pleased with the solemn harp's harmonious sound. (The well wrought harp from conquered Thebae came; Of polish'd silver was its costly frame.) With this he soothes his angry soul, and sings The immortal deeds of heroes and of kings. Patroclus only of the royal train, Placed in his tent, attends the lofty strain: Full opposite he sat, and listen'd long, In silence waiting till he ceased the song. Unseen the Grecian embassy proceeds To his high tent; the great Ulysses leads. Achilles starting, as the chiefs he spied, Leap'd from his seat, and laid the harp aside. With like surprise arose Menoetius' son: Pelides grasp'd their hands, and thus begun:


"Princes, all hail! whatever brought you here. Or strong necessity, or urgent fear; Welcome, though Greeks! for not as foes ye came; To me more dear than all that bear the name."


With that, the chiefs beneath his roof he led, And placed in seats with purple carpets spread. Then thus—"Patroclus, crown a larger bowl, Mix purer wine, and open every soul. Of all the warriors yonder host can send, Thy friend most honours these, and these thy friend."


He said: Patroclus o'er the blazing fire Heaps in a brazen vase three chines entire: The brazen vase Automedon sustains, Which flesh of porker, sheep, and goat contains. Achilles at the genial feast presides, The parts transfixes, and with skill divides. Meanwhile Patroclus sweats, the fire to raise; The tent is brighten'd with the rising blaze: Then, when the languid flames at length subside, He strows a bed of glowing embers wide, Above the coals the smoking fragments turns And sprinkles sacred salt from lifted urns; With bread the glittering canisters they load, Which round the board Menoetius' son bestow'd; Himself, opposed to Ulysses full in sight, Each portion parts, and orders every rite. The first fat offering to the immortals due, Amidst the greedy flames Patroclus threw; Then each, indulging in the social feast, His thirst and hunger soberly repress'd. That done, to Phœnix Ajax gave the sign: Not unperceived; Ulysses crown'd with wine The foaming bowl, and instant thus began, His speech addressing to the godlike man.


"Health to Achilles! happy are thy guests! Not those more honour'd whom Atrides feasts: Though generous plenty crown thy loaded boards, That, Agamemnon's regal tent affords; But greater cares sit heavy on our souls, Nor eased by banquets or by flowing bowls. What scenes of slaughter in yon fields appear! The dead we mourn, and for the living fear; Greece on the brink of fate all doubtful stands, And owns no help but from thy saving hands: Troy and her aids for ready vengeance call; Their threatening tents already shade our wall: Hear how with shouts their conquest they proclaim, And point at every ship their vengeful flame! For them the father of the gods declares, Theirs are his omens, and his thunder theirs. See, full of Jove, avenging Hector rise! See! heaven and earth the raging chief defies; What fury in his breast, what lightning in his eyes! He waits but for the morn, to sink in flame The ships, the Greeks, and all the Grecian name. Heavens! how my country's woes distract my mind, Lest Fate accomplish all his rage design'd! And must we, gods! our heads inglorious lay In Trojan dust, and this the fatal day? Return, Achilles: oh return, though late, To save thy Greeks, and stop the course of Fate; If in that heart or grief or courage lies, Rise to redeem; ah, yet to conquer, rise! The day may come, when, all our warriors slain, That heart shall melt, that courage rise in vain: Regard in time, O prince divinely brave! Those wholesome counsels which thy father gave. When Peleus in his aged arms embraced His parting son, these accents were his last:


"'My child! with strength, with glory, and success, Thy arms may Juno and Minerva bless! Trust that to Heaven: but thou, thy cares engage To calm thy passions, and subdue thy rage: From gentler manners let thy glory grow, And shun contention, the sure source of woe; That young and old may in thy praise combine, The virtues of humanity be thine—' This now-despised advice thy father gave; Ah! check thy anger; and be truly brave. If thou wilt yield to great Atrides' prayers, Gifts worthy thee his royal hand prepares; If not—but hear me, while I number o'er The proffer'd presents, an exhaustless store. Ten weighty talents of the purest gold, And twice ten vases of refulgent mould; Seven sacred tripods, whose unsullied frame Yet knows no office, nor has felt the flame; Twelve steeds unmatched in fleetness and in force, And still victorious in the dusty course; (Rich were the man, whose ample stores exceed The prizes purchased by their winged speed;) Seven lovely captives of the Lesbian line, Skill'd in each art, unmatch'd in form divine, The same he chose for more than vulgar charms, When Lesbos sank beneath thy conquering arms. All these, to buy thy friendship shall be paid, And, join'd with these, the long-contested maid; With all her charms, Briseïs he'll resign, And solemn swear those charms were only thine; Untouch'd she stay'd, uninjured she removes, Pure from his arms, and guiltless of his loves. These instant shall be thine; and if the powers Give to our arms proud Ilion's hostile towers, Then shalt thou store (when Greece the spoil divides) With gold and brass thy loaded navy's sides. Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan race With copious love shall crown thy warm embrace; Such as thyself shall chose; who yield to none, Or yield to Helen's heavenly charms alone. Yet hear me further: when our wars are o'er, If safe we land on Argos' fruitful shore, There shalt thou live his son, his honour share, And with Orestes' self divide his care. Yet more—three daughters in his court are bred, And each well worthy of a royal bed: Laodice and Iphigenia fair, And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair: Her shalt thou wed whom most thy eyes approve; He asks no presents, no reward for love: Himself will give the dower; so vast a store As never father gave a child before. Seven ample cities shall confess thy sway, The Enope and Pheræ thee obey, Cardamyle with ample turrets crown'd, And sacred Pedasus, for vines renown'd: Æpea fair, the pastures Hira yields, And rich Antheia with her flowery fields; The whole extent to Pylos' sandy plain, Along the verdant margin of the main. There heifers graze, and labouring oxen toil; Bold are the men, and generous is the soil. There shalt thou reign, with power and justice crown'd, And rule the tributary realms around. Such are the proffers which this day we bring, Such the repentance of a suppliant king. But if all this, relentless, thou disdain, If honour and if interest plead in vain, Yet some redress to suppliant Greece afford, And be, amongst her guardian gods, adored. If no regard thy suffering country claim, Hear thy own glory, and the voice of fame: For now that chief, whose unresisted ire Made nations tremble, and whole hosts retire, Proud Hector, now, the unequal fight demands, And only triumphs to deserve thy hands."


Then thus the goddess-born: "Ulysses, hear A faithful speech, that knows nor art nor fear; What in my secret soul is understood, My tongue shall utter, and my deeds make good. Let Greece then know, my purpose I retain: Nor with new treaties vex my peace in vain. Who dares think one thing, and another tell, My heart detests him as the gates of hell.


"Then thus in short my fix'd resolves attend, Which nor Atrides nor his Greeks can bend; Long toils, long perils in their cause I bore, But now the unfruitful glories charm no more. Fight or not fight, a like reward we claim, The wretch and hero find their prize the same. Alike regretted in the dust he lies, Who yields ignobly, or who bravely dies. Of all my dangers, all my glorious pains, A life of labours, lo! what fruit remains? As the bold bird her helpless young attends, From danger guards them, and from want defends; In search of prey she wings the spacious air, And with the untasted food supplies her care: For thankless Greece such hardships have I braved, Her wives, her infants, by my labours saved; Long sleepless nights in heavy arms I stood, And sweat laborious days in dust and blood. I sack'd twelve ample cities on the main,[207] And twelve lay smoking on the Trojan plain: Then at Atrides' haughty feet were laid The wealth I gathered, and the spoils I made. Your mighty monarch these in peace possess'd; Some few my soldiers had, himself the rest. Some present, too, to every prince was paid; And every prince enjoys the gift he made: I only must refund, of all his train; See what pre-eminence our merits gain! My spoil alone his greedy soul delights: My spouse alone must bless his lustful nights: The woman, let him (as he may) enjoy; But what's the quarrel, then, of Greece to Troy? What to these shores the assembled nations draws, What calls for vengeance but a woman's cause? Are fair endowments and a beauteous face Beloved by none but those of Atreus' race? The wife whom choice and passion doth approve, Sure every wise and worthy man will love. Nor did my fair one less distinction claim; Slave as she was, my soul adored the dame. Wrong'd in my love, all proffers I disdain; Deceived for once, I trust not kings again. Ye have my answer—what remains to do, Your king, Ulysses, may consult with you. What needs he the defence this arm can make? Has he not walls no human force can shake? Has he not fenced his guarded navy round With piles, with ramparts, and a trench profound? And will not these (the wonders he has done) Repel the rage of Priam's single son? There was a time ('twas when for Greece I fought) When Hector's prowess no such wonders wrought; He kept the verge of Troy, nor dared to wait Achilles' fury at the Scæan gate; He tried it once, and scarce was saved by fate. But now those ancient enmities are o'er; To-morrow we the favouring gods implore; Then shall you see our parting vessels crown'd, And hear with oars the Hellespont resound. The third day hence shall Pythia greet our sails,[208] If mighty Neptune send propitious gales; Pythia to her Achilles shall restore The wealth he left for this detested shore: Thither the spoils of this long war shall pass, The ruddy gold, the steel, and shining brass: My beauteous captives thither I'll convey, And all that rests of my unravish'd prey. One only valued gift your tyrant gave, And that resumed—the fair Lyrnessian slave. Then tell him: loud, that all the Greeks may hear, And learn to scorn the wretch they basely fear; (For arm'd in impudence, mankind he braves, And meditates new cheats on all his slaves; Though shameless as he is, to face these eyes Is what he dares not: if he dares he dies;) Tell him, all terms, all commerce I decline, Nor share his council, nor his battle join; For once deceiv'd, was his; but twice were mine, No—let the stupid prince, whom Jove deprives Of sense and justice, run where frenzy drives; His gifts are hateful: kings of such a kind Stand but as slaves before a noble mind, Not though he proffer'd all himself possess'd, And all his rapine could from others wrest: Not all the golden tides of wealth that crown The many-peopled Orchomenian town;[209] Not all proud Thebes' unrivall'd walls contain, The world's great empress on the Egyptian plain (That spreads her conquests o'er a thousand states, And pours her heroes through a hundred gates, Two hundred horsemen and two hundred cars From each wide portal issuing to the wars);[210] Though bribes were heap'd on bribes, in number more Than dust in fields, or sands along the shore; Should all these offers for my friendship call, 'Tis he that offers, and I scorn them all. Atrides' daughter never shall be led (An ill-match'd consort) to Achilles' bed; Like golden Venus though she charm'd the heart, And vied with Pallas in the works of art; Some greater Greek let those high nuptials grace, I hate alliance with a tyrant's race. If heaven restore me to my realms with life, The reverend Peleus shall elect my wife; Thessalian nymphs there are of form divine, And kings that sue to mix their blood with mine. Bless'd in kind love, my years shall glide away, Content with just hereditary sway; There, deaf for ever to the martial strife, Enjoy the dear prerogative of life. Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold. Not all Apollo's Pythian treasures hold, Or Troy once held, in peace and pride of sway, Can bribe the poor possession of a day! Lost herds and treasures we by arms regain, And steeds unrivall'd on the dusty plain: But from our lips the vital spirit fled, Returns no more to wake the silent dead. My fates long since by Thetis were disclosed, And each alternate, life or fame, proposed; Here, if I stay, before the Trojan town, Short is my date, but deathless my renown: If I return, I quit immortal praise For years on years, and long-extended days. Convinced, though late, I find my fond mistake, And warn the Greeks the wiser choice to make; To quit these shores, their native seats enjoy, Nor hope the fall of heaven-defended Troy. Jove's arm display'd asserts her from the skies! Her hearts are strengthen'd, and her glories rise. Go then to Greece, report our fix'd design; Bid all your counsels, all your armies join, Let all your forces, all your arts conspire, To save the ships, the troops, the chiefs, from fire. One stratagem has fail'd, and others will: Ye find, Achilles is unconquer'd still. Go then—digest my message as ye may— But here this night let reverend Phœnix stay: His tedious toils and hoary hairs demand A peaceful death in Pythia's friendly land. But whether he remain or sail with me, His age be sacred, and his will be free."


The son of Peleus ceased: the chiefs around In silence wrapt, in consternation drown'd, Attend the stern reply. Then Phœnix rose; (Down his white beard a stream of sorrow flows;) And while the fate of suffering Greece he mourn'd, With accent weak these tender words return'd.


"Divine Achilles! wilt thou then retire, And leave our hosts in blood, our fleets on fire? If wrath so dreadful fill thy ruthless mind, How shall thy friend, thy Phœnix, stay behind? The royal Peleus, when from Pythia's coast He sent thee early to the Achaian host; Thy youth as then in sage debates unskill'd, And new to perils of the direful field: He bade me teach thee all the ways of war, To shine in councils, and in camps to dare. Never, ah, never let me leave thy side! No time shall part us, and no fate divide, Not though the god, that breathed my life, restore The bloom I boasted, and the port I bore, When Greece of old beheld my youthful flames (Delightful Greece, the land of lovely dames), My father faithless to my mother's arms, Old as he was, adored a stranger's charms. I tried what youth could do (at her desire) To win the damsel, and prevent my sire. My sire with curses loads my hated head, And cries, 'Ye furies! barren be his bed.' Infernal Jove, the vengeful fiends below, And ruthless Proserpine, confirm'd his vow. Despair and grief distract my labouring mind! Gods! what a crime my impious heart design'd! I thought (but some kind god that thought suppress'd) To plunge the poniard in my father's breast; Then meditate my flight: my friends in vain With prayers entreat me, and with force detain. On fat of rams, black bulls, and brawny swine, They daily feast, with draughts of fragrant wine; Strong guards they placed, and watch'd nine nights entire; The roofs and porches flamed with constant fire. The tenth, I forced the gates, unseen of all: And, favour'd by the night, o'erleap'd the wall, My travels thence through spacious Greece extend; In Phthia's court at last my labours end. Your sire received me, as his son caress'd, With gifts enrich'd, and with possessions bless'd. The strong Dolopians thenceforth own'd my reign, And all the coast that runs along the main. By love to thee his bounties I repaid, And early wisdom to thy soul convey'd: Great as thou art, my lessons made thee brave: A child I took thee, but a hero gave. Thy infant breast a like affection show'd; Still in my arms (an ever-pleasing load) Or at my knee, by Phœnix wouldst thou stand; No food was grateful but from Phœnix' hand.[211] I pass my watchings o'er thy helpless years, The tender labours, the compliant cares, The gods (I thought) reversed their hard decree, And Phœnix felt a father's joys in thee: Thy growing virtues justified my cares, And promised comfort to my silver hairs. Now be thy rage, thy fatal rage, resign'd; A cruel heart ill suits a manly mind: The gods (the only great, and only wise) Are moved by offerings, vows, and sacrifice; Offending man their high compassion wins, And daily prayers atone for daily sins. Prayers are Jove's daughters, of celestial race, Lame are their feet, and wrinkled is their face; With humble mien, and with dejected eyes, Constant they follow, where injustice flies. Injustice swift, erect, and unconfined, Sweeps the wide earth, and tramples o'er mankind, While Prayers, to heal her wrongs, move slow behind. Who hears these daughters of almighty Jove, For him they mediate to the throne above: When man rejects the humble suit they make, The sire revenges for the daughters' sake; From Jove commission'd, fierce injustice then Descends to punish unrelenting men. O let not headlong passion bear the sway These reconciling goddesses obey: Due honours to the seed of Jove belong, Due honours calm the fierce, and bend the strong. Were these not paid thee by the terms we bring, Were rage still harbour'd in the haughty king; Nor Greece nor all her fortunes should engage Thy friend to plead against so just a rage. But since what honour asks the general sends, And sends by those whom most thy heart commends; The best and noblest of the Grecian train; Permit not these to sue, and sue in vain! Let me (my son) an ancient fact unfold, A great example drawn from times of old; Hear what our fathers were, and what their praise, Who conquer'd their revenge in former days.


"Where Calydon on rocky mountains stands[212] Once fought the Ætolian and Curetian bands; To guard it those; to conquer, these advance; And mutual deaths were dealt with mutual chance. The silver Cynthia bade contention rise, In vengeance of neglected sacrifice; On Œneus fields she sent a monstrous boar, That levell'd harvests, and whole forests tore: This beast (when many a chief his tusks had slain) Great Meleager stretch'd along the plain, Then, for his spoils, a new debate arose, The neighbour nations thence commencing foes. Strong as they were, the bold Curetes fail'd, While Meleager's thundering arm prevail'd: Till rage at length inflamed his lofty breast (For rage invades the wisest and the best).


"Cursed by Althaea, to his wrath he yields, And in his wife's embrace forgets the fields. (She from Marpessa sprung, divinely fair, And matchless Idas, more than man in war: The god of day adored the mother's charms; Against the god the father bent his arms: The afflicted pair, their sorrows to proclaim, From Cleopatra changed their daughter's name, And call'd Alcyone; a name to show The father's grief, the mourning mother's woe.) To her the chief retired from stern debate, But found no peace from fierce Althaea's hate: Althaea's hate the unhappy warrior drew, Whose luckless hand his royal uncle slew; She beat the ground, and call'd the powers beneath On her own son to wreak her brother's death; Hell heard her curses from the realms profound, And the red fiends that walk the nightly round. In vain Ætolia her deliverer waits, War shakes her walls, and thunders at her gates. She sent ambassadors, a chosen band, Priests of the gods, and elders of the land; Besought the chief to save the sinking state: Their prayers were urgent, and their proffers great: (Full fifty acres of the richest ground, Half pasture green, and half with vineyards crown'd:) His suppliant father, aged Œneus, came; His sisters follow'd; even the vengeful dame, Althaea, sues; his friends before him fall: He stands relentless, and rejects them all. Meanwhile the victor's shouts ascend the skies; The walls are scaled; the rolling flames arise; At length his wife (a form divine) appears, With piercing cries, and supplicating tears; She paints the horrors of a conquer'd town, The heroes slain, the palaces o'erthrown, The matrons ravish'd, the whole race enslaved: The warrior heard, he vanquish'd, and he saved. The Ætolians, long disdain'd, now took their turn, And left the chief their broken faith to mourn. Learn hence, betimes to curb pernicious ire, Nor stay till yonder fleets ascend in fire; Accept the presents; draw thy conquering sword; And be amongst our guardian gods adored."


Thus he: the stern Achilles thus replied: "My second father, and my reverend guide: Thy friend, believe me, no such gifts demands, And asks no honours from a mortal's hands; Jove honours me, and favours my designs; His pleasure guides me, and his will confines; And here I stay (if such his high behest) While life's warm spirit beats within my breast. Yet hear one word, and lodge it in thy heart: No more molest me on Atrides' part: Is it for him these tears are taught to flow, For him these sorrows? for my mortal foe? A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows; One should our interests and our passions be; My friend must hate the man that injures me. Do this, my Phœnix, 'tis a generous part; And share my realms, my honours, and my heart. Let these return: our voyage, or our stay, Rest undetermined till the dawning day."


He ceased; then order'd for the sage's bed A warmer couch with numerous carpets spread. With that, stern Ajax his long silence broke, And thus, impatient, to Ulysses spoke:


"Hence let us go—why waste we time in vain? See what effect our low submissions gain! Liked or not liked, his words we must relate, The Greeks expect them, and our heroes wait. Proud as he is, that iron heart retains Its stubborn purpose, and his friends disdains. Stern and unpitying! if a brother bleed, On just atonement, we remit the deed; A sire the slaughter of his son forgives; The price of blood discharged, the murderer lives: The haughtiest hearts at length their rage resign, And gifts can conquer every soul but thine.[213] The gods that unrelenting breast have steel'd, And cursed thee with a mind that cannot yield. One woman-slave was ravish'd from thy arms: Lo, seven are offer'd, and of equal charms. Then hear, Achilles! be of better mind; Revere thy roof, and to thy guests be kind; And know the men of all the Grecian host, Who honour worth, and prize thy valour most."


"O soul of battles, and thy people's guide! (To Ajax thus the first of Greeks replied) Well hast thou spoke; but at the tyrant's name My rage rekindles, and my soul's on flame: 'Tis just resentment, and becomes the brave: Disgraced, dishonour'd, like the vilest slave! Return, then, heroes! and our answer bear, The glorious combat is no more my care; Not till, amidst yon sinking navy slain, The blood of Greeks shall dye the sable main; Not till the flames, by Hector's fury thrown, Consume your vessels, and approach my own; Just there, the impetuous homicide shall stand, There cease his battle, and there feel our hand."


This said, each prince a double goblet crown'd, And cast a large libation on the ground; Then to their vessels, through the gloomy shades, The chiefs return; divine Ulysses leads. Meantime Achilles' slaves prepared a bed, With fleeces, carpets, and soft linen spread: There, till the sacred morn restored the day, In slumber sweet the reverend Phœnix lay. But in his inner tent, an ampler space, Achilles slept; and in his warm embrace Fair Diomede of the Lesbian race. Last, for Patroclus was the couch prepared, Whose nightly joys the beauteous Iphis shared; Achilles to his friend consign'd her charms When Scyros fell before his conquering arms.


And now the elected chiefs whom Greece had sent, Pass'd through the hosts, and reach'd the royal tent. Then rising all, with goblets in their hands, The peers and leaders of the Achaian bands Hail'd their return: Atrides first begun:


"Say what success? divine Laertes' son! Achilles' high resolves declare to all: Returns the chief, or must our navy fall?"


"Great king of nations! (Ithacus replied) Fix'd is his wrath, unconquer'd is his pride; He slights thy friendship, thy proposals scorns, And, thus implored, with fiercer fury burns. To save our army, and our fleets to free, Is not his care; but left to Greece and thee. Your eyes shall view, when morning paints the sky, Beneath his oars the whitening billows fly; Us too he bids our oars and sails employ, Nor hope the fall of heaven-protected Troy; For Jove o'ershades her with his arm divine, Inspires her war, and bids her glory shine. Such was his word: what further he declared, These sacred heralds and great Ajax heard. But Phœnix in his tent the chief retains, Safe to transport him to his native plains When morning dawns; if other he decree, His age is sacred, and his choice is free."


Ulysses ceased: the great Achaian host, With sorrow seized, in consternation lost, Attend the stern reply. Tydides broke The general silence, and undaunted spoke. "Why should we gifts to proud Achilles send, Or strive with prayers his haughty soul to bend? His country's woes he glories to deride, And prayers will burst that swelling heart with pride. Be the fierce impulse of his rage obey'd, Our battles let him or desert or aid; Then let him arm when Jove or he think fit: That, to his madness, or to Heaven commit: What for ourselves we can, is always ours; This night, let due repast refresh our powers; (For strength consists in spirits and in blood, And those are owed to generous wine and food;) But when the rosy messenger of day Strikes the blue mountains with her golden ray, Ranged at the ships, let all our squadrons shine In flaming arms, a long-extended line: In the dread front let great Atrides stand, The first in danger, as in high command."


Shouts of acclaim the listening heroes raise, Then each to Heaven the due libations pays; Till sleep, descending o'er the tents, bestows The grateful blessings of desired repose.[214]


Upon the refusal of Achilles to return to the army, the distress of Agamemnon is described in the most lively manner. He takes no rest that night, but passes through the camp, awaking the leaders, and contriving all possible methods for the public safety. Menelaus, Nestor, Ulysses, and Diomed are employed in raising the rest of the captains. They call a council of war, and determine to send scouts into the enemies' camp, to learn their posture, and discover their intentions. Diomed undertakes this hazardous enterprise, and makes choice of Ulysses for his companion. In their passage they surprise Dolon, whom Hector had sent on a like design to the camp of the Grecians. From him they are informed of the situation of the Trojan and auxiliary forces, and particularly of Rhesus, and the Thracians who were lately arrived. They pass on with success; kill Rhesus, with several of his officers, and seize the famous horses of that prince, with which they return in triumph to the camp. The same night continues; the scene lies in the two camps.


All night the chiefs before their vessels lay, And lost in sleep the labours of the day: All but the king: with various thoughts oppress'd,[215] His country's cares lay rolling in his breast. As when by lightnings Jove's ethereal power Foretels the rattling hail, or weighty shower, Or sends soft snows to whiten all the shore, Or bids the brazen throat of war to roar; By fits one flash succeeds as one expires, And heaven flames thick with momentary fires: So bursting frequent from Atrides' breast, Sighs following sighs his inward fears confess'd. Now o'er the fields, dejected, he surveys From thousand Trojan fires the mounting blaze; Hears in the passing wind their music blow, And marks distinct the voices of the foe. Now looking backwards to the fleet and coast, Anxious he sorrows for the endangered host. He rends his hair, in sacrifice to Jove, And sues to him that ever lives above: Inly he groans; while glory and despair Divide his heart, and wage a double war.


A thousand cares his labouring breast revolves; To seek sage Nestor now the chief resolves, With him, in wholesome counsels, to debate What yet remains to save the afflicted state. He rose, and first he cast his mantle round, Next on his feet the shining sandals bound; A lion's yellow spoils his back conceal'd; His warlike hand a pointed javelin held. Meanwhile his brother, press'd with equal woes, Alike denied the gifts of soft repose, Laments for Greece, that in his cause before So much had suffer'd and must suffer more. A leopard's spotted hide his shoulders spread: A brazen helmet glitter'd on his head: Thus (with a javelin in his hand) he went To wake Atrides in the royal tent. Already waked, Atrides he descried, His armour buckling at his vessel's side. Joyful they met; the Spartan thus begun: "Why puts my brother his bright armour on? Sends he some spy, amidst these silent hours, To try yon camp, and watch the Trojan powers? But say, what hero shall sustain that task? Such bold exploits uncommon courage ask; Guideless, alone, through night's dark shade to go, And midst a hostile camp explore the foe."


To whom the king: "In such distress we stand, No vulgar counsel our affairs demand; Greece to preserve, is now no easy part, But asks high wisdom, deep design, and art. For Jove, averse, our humble prayer denies, And bows his head to Hector's sacrifice. What eye has witness'd, or what ear believed, In one great day, by one great arm achieved, Such wondrous deeds as Hector's hand has done, And we beheld, the last revolving sun? What honours the beloved of Jove adorn! Sprung from no god, and of no goddess born; Yet such his acts, as Greeks unborn shall tell, And curse the battle where their fathers fell.


"Now speed thy hasty course along the fleet, There call great Ajax, and the prince of Crete; Ourself to hoary Nestor will repair; To keep the guards on duty be his care, (For Nestor's influence best that quarter guides, Whose son with Merion, o'er the watch presides.") To whom the Spartan: "These thy orders borne, Say, shall I stay, or with despatch return?" "There shall thou stay, (the king of men replied,) Else may we miss to meet, without a guide, The paths so many, and the camp so wide. Still, with your voice the slothful soldiers raise, Urge by their fathers' fame their future praise. Forget we now our state and lofty birth; Not titles here, but works, must prove our worth. To labour is the lot of man below; And when Jove gave us life, he gave us woe."


This said, each parted to his several cares: The king to Nestor's sable ship repairs; The sage protector of the Greeks he found Stretch'd in his bed with all his arms around; The various-colour'd scarf, the shield he rears, The shining helmet, and the pointed spears; The dreadful weapons of the warrior's rage, That, old in arms, disdain'd the peace of age. Then, leaning on his hand his watchful head, The hoary monarch raised his eyes and said:


"What art thou, speak, that on designs unknown, While others sleep, thus range the camp alone; Seek'st thou some friend or nightly sentinel? Stand off, approach not, but thy purpose tell."


"O son of Neleus, (thus the king rejoin'd,) Pride of the Greeks, and glory of thy kind! Lo, here the wretched Agamemnon stands, The unhappy general of the Grecian bands, Whom Jove decrees with daily cares to bend, And woes, that only with his life shall end! Scarce can my knees these trembling limbs sustain, And scarce my heart support its load of pain. No taste of sleep these heavy eyes have known, Confused, and sad, I wander thus alone, With fears distracted, with no fix'd design; And all my people's miseries are mine. If aught of use thy waking thoughts suggest, (Since cares, like mine, deprive thy soul of rest,) Impart thy counsel, and assist thy friend; Now let us jointly to the trench descend, At every gate the fainting guard excite, Tired with the toils of day and watch of night; Else may the sudden foe our works invade, So near, and favour'd by the gloomy shade."


To him thus Nestor: "Trust the powers above, Nor think proud Hector's hopes confirm'd by Jove: How ill agree the views of vain mankind, And the wise counsels of the eternal mind! Audacious Hector, if the gods ordain That great Achilles rise and rage again, What toils attend thee, and what woes remain! Lo, faithful Nestor thy command obeys; The care is next our other chiefs to raise: Ulysses, Diomed, we chiefly need; Meges for strength, Oïleus famed for speed. Some other be despatch'd of nimbler feet, To those tall ships, remotest of the fleet, Where lie great Ajax and the king of Crete.[216] To rouse the Spartan I myself decree; Dear as he is to us, and dear to thee, Yet must I tax his sloth, that claims no share With his great brother in his martial care: Him it behoved to every chief to sue, Preventing every part perform'd by you; For strong necessity our toils demands, Claims all our hearts, and urges all our hands."


To whom the king: "With reverence we allow Thy just rebukes, yet learn to spare them now: My generous brother is of gentle kind, He seems remiss, but bears a valiant mind; Through too much deference to our sovereign sway, Content to follow when we lead the way: But now, our ills industrious to prevent, Long ere the rest he rose, and sought my tent. The chiefs you named, already at his call, Prepare to meet us near the navy-wall; Assembling there, between the trench and gates, Near the night-guards, our chosen council waits."


"Then none (said Nestor) shall his rule withstand, For great examples justify command." With that, the venerable warrior rose; The shining greaves his manly legs enclose; His purple mantle golden buckles join'd, Warm with the softest wool, and doubly lined. Then rushing from his tent, he snatch'd in haste His steely lance, that lighten'd as he pass'd. The camp he traversed through the sleeping crowd, Stopp'd at Ulysses' tent, and call'd aloud. Ulysses, sudden as the voice was sent, Awakes, starts up, and issues from his tent. "What new distress, what sudden cause of fright, Thus leads you wandering in the silent night?" "O prudent chief! (the Pylian sage replied) Wise as thou art, be now thy wisdom tried: Whatever means of safety can be sought, Whatever counsels can inspire our thought, Whatever methods, or to fly or fight; All, all depend on this important night!" He heard, return'd, and took his painted shield; Then join'd the chiefs, and follow'd through the field. Without his tent, bold Diomed they found, All sheathed in arms, his brave companions round: Each sunk in sleep, extended on the field, His head reclining on his bossy shield. A wood of spears stood by, that, fix'd upright, Shot from their flashing points a quivering light. A bull's black hide composed the hero's bed; A splendid carpet roll'd beneath his head. Then, with his foot, old Nestor gently shakes The slumbering chief, and in these words awakes:


"Rise, son of Tydeus! to the brave and strong Rest seems inglorious, and the night too long. But sleep'st thou now, when from yon hill the foe Hangs o'er the fleet, and shades our walls below?"


At this, soft slumber from his eyelids fled; The warrior saw the hoary chief, and said: "Wondrous old man! whose soul no respite knows, Though years and honours bid thee seek repose, Let younger Greeks our sleeping warriors wake; Ill fits thy age these toils to undertake." "My friend, (he answered,) generous is thy care; These toils, my subjects and my sons might bear; Their loyal thoughts and pious love conspire To ease a sovereign and relieve a sire: But now the last despair surrounds our host; No hour must pass, no moment must be lost; Each single Greek, in this conclusive strife, Stands on the sharpest edge of death or life: Yet, if my years thy kind regard engage, Employ thy youth as I employ my age; Succeed to these my cares, and rouse the rest; He serves me most, who serves his country best."


This said, the hero o'er his shoulders flung A lion's spoils, that to his ankles hung; Then seized his ponderous lance, and strode along. Meges the bold, with Ajax famed for speed, The warrior roused, and to the entrenchments lead.


And now the chiefs approach the nightly guard; A wakeful squadron, each in arms prepared: The unwearied watch their listening leaders keep, And, couching close, repel invading sleep. So faithful dogs their fleecy charge maintain, With toil protected from the prowling train; When the gaunt lioness, with hunger bold, Springs from the mountains toward the guarded fold: Through breaking woods her rustling course they hear; Loud, and more loud, the clamours strike their ear Of hounds and men: they start, they gaze around, Watch every side, and turn to every sound. Thus watch'd the Grecians, cautious of surprise, Each voice, each motion, drew their ears and eyes: Each step of passing feet increased the affright; And hostile Troy was ever full in sight. Nestor with joy the wakeful band survey'd, And thus accosted through the gloomy shade. "'Tis well, my sons! your nightly cares employ; Else must our host become the scorn of Troy. Watch thus, and Greece shall live." The hero said; Then o'er the trench the following chieftains led. His son, and godlike Merion, march'd behind (For these the princes to their council join'd). The trenches pass'd, the assembled kings around In silent state the consistory crown'd. A place there was, yet undefiled with gore, The spot where Hector stopp'd his rage before; When night descending, from his vengeful hand Reprieved the relics of the Grecian band: (The plain beside with mangled corps was spread, And all his progress mark'd by heaps of dead:) There sat the mournful kings: when Neleus' son, The council opening, in these words begun:


"Is there (said he) a chief so greatly brave, His life to hazard, and his country save? Lives there a man, who singly dares to go To yonder camp, or seize some straggling foe? Or favour'd by the night approach so near, Their speech, their counsels, and designs to hear? If to besiege our navies they prepare, Or Troy once more must be the seat of war? This could he learn, and to our peers recite, And pass unharm'd the dangers of the night; What fame were his through all succeeding days, While Phœbus shines, or men have tongues to praise! What gifts his grateful country would bestow! What must not Greece to her deliverer owe? A sable ewe each leader should provide, With each a sable lambkin by her side; At every rite his share should be increased, And his the foremost honours of the feast."


Fear held them mute: alone, untaught to fear, Tydides spoke—"The man you seek is here. Through yon black camps to bend my dangerous way, Some god within commands, and I obey. But let some other chosen warrior join, To raise my hopes, and second my design. By mutual confidence and mutual aid, Great deeds are done, and great discoveries made; The wise new prudence from the wise acquire, And one brave hero fans another's fire."


Contending leaders at the word arose; Each generous breast with emulation glows; So brave a task each Ajax strove to share, Bold Merion strove, and Nestor's valiant heir; The Spartan wish'd the second place to gain, And great Ulysses wish'd, nor wish'd in vain. Then thus the king of men the contest ends: "Thou first of warriors, and thou best of friends, Undaunted Diomed! what chief to join In this great enterprise, is only thine. Just be thy choice, without affection made; To birth, or office, no respect be paid; Let worth determine here." The monarch spake, And inly trembled for his brother's sake.


"Then thus (the godlike Diomed rejoin'd) My choice declares the impulse of my mind. How can I doubt, while great Ulysses stands To lend his counsels and assist our hands? A chief, whose safety is Minerva's care; So famed, so dreadful, in the works of war: Bless'd in his conduct, I no aid require; Wisdom like his might pass through flames of fire."


"It fits thee not, before these chiefs of fame, (Replied the sage,) to praise me, or to blame: Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe, Are lost on hearers that our merits know. But let us haste—Night rolls the hours away, The reddening orient shows the coming day, The stars shine fainter on the ethereal plains, And of night's empire but a third remains."


Thus having spoke, with generous ardour press'd, In arms terrific their huge limbs they dress'd. A two-edged falchion Thrasymed the brave, And ample buckler, to Tydides gave: Then in a leathern helm he cased his head, Short of its crest, and with no plume o'erspread: (Such as by youths unused to arms are worn:) No spoils enrich it, and no studs adorn. Next him Ulysses took a shining sword, A bow and quiver, with bright arrows stored: A well-proved casque, with leather braces bound, (Thy gift, Meriones,) his temples crown'd; Soft wool within; without, in order spread,[217] A boar's white teeth grinn'd horrid o'er his head. This from Amyntor, rich Ormenus' son, Autolycus by fraudful rapine won, And gave Amphidamas; from him the prize Molus received, the pledge of social ties; The helmet next by Merion was possess'd, And now Ulysses' thoughtful temples press'd. Thus sheathed in arms, the council they forsake, And dark through paths oblique their progress take. Just then, in sign she favour'd their intent, A long-wing'd heron great Minerva sent: This, though surrounding shades obscured their view, By the shrill clang and whistling wings they knew. As from the right she soar'd, Ulysses pray'd, Hail'd the glad omen, and address'd the maid:


"O daughter of that god whose arm can wield The avenging bolt, and shake the saber shield! O thou! for ever present in my way, Who all my motions, all my toils survey! Safe may we pass beneath the gloomy shade, Safe by thy succour to our ships convey'd, And let some deed this signal night adorn, To claim the tears of Trojans yet unborn."


Then godlike Diomed preferr'd his prayer: "Daughter of Jove, unconquer'd Pallas! hear. Great queen of arms, whose favour Tydeus won, As thou defend'st the sire, defend the son. When on Æsopus' banks the banded powers Of Greece he left, and sought the Theban towers, Peace was his charge; received with peaceful show, He went a legate, but return'd a foe: Then help'd by thee, and cover'd by thy shield, He fought with numbers, and made numbers yield. So now be present, O celestial maid! So still continue to the race thine aid! A youthful steer shall fall beneath the stroke, Untamed, unconscious of the galling yoke, With ample forehead, and with spreading horns, Whose taper tops refulgent gold adorns." The heroes pray'd, and Pallas from the skies Accords their vow, succeeds their enterprise. Now, like two lions panting for the prey, With dreadful thoughts they trace the dreary way, Through the black horrors of the ensanguined plain, Through dust, through blood, o'er arms, and hills of slain.


Nor less bold Hector, and the sons of Troy, On high designs the wakeful hours employ; The assembled peers their lofty chief enclosed; Who thus the counsels of his breast proposed:


"What glorious man, for high attempts prepared, Dares greatly venture for a rich reward? Of yonder fleet a bold discovery make, What watch they keep, and what resolves they take? If now subdued they meditate their flight, And, spent with toil, neglect the watch of night? His be the chariot that shall please him most, Of all the plunder of the vanquish'd host; His the fair steeds that all the rest excel, And his the glory to have served so well."


A youth there was among the tribes of Troy, Dolon his name, Eumedes' only boy, (Five girls beside the reverend herald told.) Rich was the son in brass, and rich in gold; Not bless'd by nature with the charms of face, But swift of foot, and matchless in the race. "Hector! (he said) my courage bids me meet This high achievement, and explore the fleet: But first exalt thy sceptre to the skies, And swear to grant me the demanded prize; The immortal coursers, and the glittering car, That bear Pelides through the ranks of war. Encouraged thus, no idle scout I go, Fulfil thy wish, their whole intention know, Even to the royal tent pursue my way, And all their counsels, all their aims betray."


The chief then heaved the golden sceptre high, Attesting thus the monarch of the sky: "Be witness thou! immortal lord of all! Whose thunder shakes the dark aerial hall: By none but Dolon shall this prize be borne, And him alone the immortal steeds adorn."


Thus Hector swore: the gods were call'd in vain, But the rash youth prepares to scour the plain: Across his back the bended bow he flung, A wolf's grey hide around his shoulders hung, A ferret's downy fur his helmet lined, And in his hand a pointed javelin shined. Then (never to return) he sought the shore, And trod the path his feet must tread no more. Scarce had he pass'd the steeds and Trojan throng, (Still bending forward as he coursed along,) When, on the hollow way, the approaching tread Ulysses mark'd, and thus to Diomed;


"O friend! I hear some step of hostile feet, Moving this way, or hastening to the fleet; Some spy, perhaps, to lurk beside the main; Or nightly pillager that strips the slain. Yet let him pass, and win a little space; Then rush behind him, and prevent his pace. But if too swift of foot he flies before, Confine his course along the fleet and shore, Betwixt the camp and him our spears employ, And intercept his hoped return to Troy."


With that they stepp'd aside, and stoop'd their head, (As Dolon pass'd,) behind a heap of dead: Along the path the spy unwary flew; Soft, at just distance, both the chiefs pursue. So distant they, and such the space between, As when two teams of mules divide the green, (To whom the hind like shares of land allows,) When now new furrows part the approaching ploughs. Now Dolon, listening, heard them as they pass'd; Hector (he thought) had sent, and check'd his haste, Till scarce at distance of a javelin's throw, No voice succeeding, he perceived the foe. As when two skilful hounds the leveret wind; Or chase through woods obscure the trembling hind; Now lost, now seen, they intercept his way, And from the herd still turn the flying prey: So fast, and with such fears, the Trojan flew; So close, so constant, the bold Greeks pursue. Now almost on the fleet the dastard falls, And mingles with the guards that watch the walls; When brave Tydides stopp'd; a gen'rous thought (Inspired by Pallas) in his bosom wrought, Lest on the foe some forward Greek advance, And snatch the glory from his lifted lance. Then thus aloud: "Whoe'er thou art, remain; This javelin else shall fix thee to the plain." He said, and high in air the weapon cast, Which wilful err'd, and o'er his shoulder pass'd; Then fix'd in earth. Against the trembling wood The wretch stood propp'd, and quiver'd as he stood; A sudden palsy seized his turning head; His loose teeth chatter'd, and his colour fled; The panting warriors seize him as he stands, And with unmanly tears his life demands.


"O spare my youth, and for the breath I owe, Large gifts of price my father shall bestow: Vast heaps of brass shall in your ships be told, And steel well-temper'd and refulgent gold."


To whom Ulysses made this wise reply: "Whoe'er thou art, be bold, nor fear to die. What moves thee, say, when sleep has closed the sight, To roam the silent fields in dead of night? Cam'st thou the secrets of our camp to find, By Hector prompted, or thy daring mind? Or art some wretch by hopes of plunder led, Through heaps of carnage, to despoil the dead?"


Then thus pale Dolon, with a fearful look: (Still, as he spoke, his limbs with horror shook:) "Hither I came, by Hector's words deceived; Much did he promise, rashly I believed: No less a bribe than great Achilles' car, And those swift steeds that sweep the ranks of war, Urged me, unwilling, this attempt to make; To learn what counsels, what resolves you take: If now subdued, you fix your hopes on flight, And, tired with toils, neglect the watch of night."


"Bold was thy aim, and glorious was the prize, (Ulysses, with a scornful smile, replies,) Far other rulers those proud steeds demand, And scorn the guidance of a vulgar hand; Even great Achilles scarce their rage can tame, Achilles sprung from an immortal dame. But say, be faithful, and the truth recite! Where lies encamp'd the Trojan chief to-night? Where stand his coursers? in what quarter sleep Their other princes? tell what watch they keep: Say, since this conquest, what their counsels are; Or here to combat, from their city far, Or back to Ilion's walls transfer the war?"


Ulysses thus, and thus Eumedes' son: "What Dolon knows, his faithful tongue shall own. Hector, the peers assembling in his tent, A council holds at Ilus' monument. No certain guards the nightly watch partake; Where'er yon fires ascend, the Trojans wake: Anxious for Troy, the guard the natives keep; Safe in their cares, the auxiliar forces sleep, Whose wives and infants, from the danger far, Discharge their souls of half the fears of war."


"Then sleep those aids among the Trojan train, (Inquired the chief,) or scattered o'er the plain?" To whom the spy: "Their powers they thus dispose The Paeons, dreadful with their bended bows, The Carians, Caucons, the Pelasgian host, And Leleges, encamp along the coast. Not distant far, lie higher on the land The Lycian, Mysian, and Mæonian band, And Phrygia's horse, by Thymbras' ancient wall; The Thracians utmost, and apart from all. These Troy but lately to her succour won, Led on by Rhesus, great Eioneus' son: I saw his coursers in proud triumph go, Swift as the wind, and white as winter-snow; Rich silver plates his shining car infold; His solid arms, refulgent, flame with gold; No mortal shoulders suit the glorious load, Celestial panoply, to grace a god! Let me, unhappy, to your fleet be borne, Or leave me here, a captive's fate to mourn, In cruel chains, till your return reveal The truth or falsehood of the news I tell."


To this Tydides, with a gloomy frown: "Think not to live, though all the truth be shown: Shall we dismiss thee, in some future strife To risk more bravely thy now forfeit life? Or that again our camps thou may'st explore? No—once a traitor, thou betray'st no more."


Sternly he spoke, and as the wretch prepared With humble blandishment to stroke his beard, Like lightning swift the wrathful falchion flew, Divides the neck, and cuts the nerves in two; One instant snatch'd his trembling soul to hell, The head, yet speaking, mutter'd as it fell. The furry helmet from his brow they tear, The wolf's grey hide, the unbended bow and spear; These great Ulysses lifting to the skies, To favouring Pallas dedicates the prize:


"Great queen of arms, receive this hostile spoil, And let the Thracian steeds reward our toil; Thee, first of all the heavenly host, we praise; O speed our labours, and direct our ways!" This said, the spoils, with dropping gore defaced, High on a spreading tamarisk he placed; Then heap'd with reeds and gathered boughs the plain, To guide their footsteps to the place again.


Through the still night they cross the devious fields, Slippery with blood, o'er arms and heaps of shields, Arriving where the Thracian squadrons lay, And eased in sleep the labours of the day. Ranged in three lines they view the prostrate band: The horses yoked beside each warrior stand. Their arms in order on the ground reclined, Through the brown shade the fulgid weapons shined: Amidst lay Rhesus, stretch'd in sleep profound, And the white steeds behind his chariot bound. The welcome sight Ulysses first descries, And points to Diomed the tempting prize. "The man, the coursers, and the car behold! Described by Dolon, with the arms of gold. Now, brave Tydides! now thy courage try, Approach the chariot, and the steeds untie; Or if thy soul aspire to fiercer deeds, Urge thou the slaughter, while I seize the steeds."


Pallas (this said) her hero's bosom warms, Breathed in his heart, and strung his nervous arms; Where'er he pass'd, a purple stream pursued His thirsty falchion, fat with hostile blood, Bathed all his footsteps, dyed the fields with gore, And a low groan remurmur'd through the shore. So the grim lion, from his nightly den, O'erleaps the fences, and invades the pen, On sheep or goats, resistless in his way, He falls, and foaming rends the guardless prey; Nor stopp'd the fury of his vengeful hand, Till twelve lay breathless of the Thracian band. Ulysses following, as his partner slew, Back by the foot each slaughter'd warrior drew; The milk-white coursers studious to convey Safe to the ships, he wisely cleared the way: Lest the fierce steeds, not yet to battles bred, Should start, and tremble at the heaps of dead. Now twelve despatch'd, the monarch last they found; Tydides' falchion fix'd him to the ground. Just then a deathful dream Minerva sent, A warlike form appear'd before his tent, Whose visionary steel his bosom tore: So dream'd the monarch, and awaked no more.[218]


Ulysses now the snowy steeds detains, And leads them, fasten'd by the silver reins; These, with his bow unbent, he lash'd along; (The scourge forgot, on Rhesus' chariot hung;) Then gave his friend the signal to retire; But him, new dangers, new achievements fire; Doubtful he stood, or with his reeking blade To send more heroes to the infernal shade, Drag off the car where Rhesus' armour lay, Or heave with manly force, and lift away. While unresolved the son of Tydeus stands, Pallas appears, and thus her chief commands:


"Enough, my son; from further slaughter cease, Regard thy safety, and depart in peace; Haste to the ships, the gotten spoils enjoy, Nor tempt too far the hostile gods of Troy."


The voice divine confess'd the martial maid; In haste he mounted, and her word obey'd; The coursers fly before Ulysses' bow, Swift as the wind, and white as winter-snow.


Not unobserved they pass'd: the god of light Had watch'd his Troy, and mark'd Minerva's flight, Saw Tydeus' son with heavenly succour bless'd, And vengeful anger fill'd his sacred breast. Swift to the Trojan camp descends the power, And wakes Hippocoon in the morning-hour; (On Rhesus' side accustom'd to attend, A faithful kinsman, and instructive friend;) He rose, and saw the field deform'd with blood, An empty space where late the coursers stood, The yet-warm Thracians panting on the coast; For each he wept, but for his Rhesus most: Now while on Rhesus' name he calls in vain, The gathering tumult spreads o'er all the plain; On heaps the Trojans rush, with wild affright, And wondering view the slaughters of the night.


Meanwhile the chiefs, arriving at the shade Where late the spoils of Hector's spy were laid, Ulysses stopp'd; to him Tydides bore The trophy, dropping yet with Dolon's gore: Then mounts again; again their nimbler feet The coursers ply, and thunder towards the fleet.


[Illustration: ] DIOMED AND ULYSSES RETURNING WITH THE SPOILS OF RHESUS


Old Nestor first perceived the approaching sound, Bespeaking thus the Grecian peers around: "Methinks the noise of trampling steeds I hear, Thickening this way, and gathering on my ear; Perhaps some horses of the Trojan breed (So may, ye gods! my pious hopes succeed) The great Tydides and Ulysses bear, Return'd triumphant with this prize of war. Yet much I fear (ah, may that fear be vain!) The chiefs outnumber'd by the Trojan train; Perhaps, even now pursued, they seek the shore; Or, oh! perhaps those heroes are no more."


Scarce had he spoke, when, lo! the chiefs appear, And spring to earth; the Greeks dismiss their fear: With words of friendship and extended hands They greet the kings; and Nestor first demands:


"Say thou, whose praises all our host proclaim, Thou living glory of the Grecian name! Say whence these coursers? by what chance bestow'd, The spoil of foes, or present of a god? Not those fair steeds, so radiant and so gay, That draw the burning chariot of the day. Old as I am, to age I scorn to yield, And daily mingle in the martial field; But sure till now no coursers struck my sight Like these, conspicuous through the ranks of fight. Some god, I deem, conferred the glorious prize, Bless'd as ye are, and favourites of the skies; The care of him who bids the thunder roar, And her, whose fury bathes the world with gore."


"Father! not so, (sage Ithacus rejoin'd,) The gifts of heaven are of a nobler kind. Of Thracian lineage are the steeds ye view, Whose hostile king the brave Tydides slew; Sleeping he died, with all his guards around, And twelve beside lay gasping on the ground. These other spoils from conquer'd Dolon came, A wretch, whose swiftness was his only fame; By Hector sent our forces to explore, He now lies headless on the sandy shore."


Then o'er the trench the bounding coursers flew; The joyful Greeks with loud acclaim pursue. Straight to Tydides' high pavilion borne, The matchless steeds his ample stalls adorn: The neighing coursers their new fellows greet, And the full racks are heap'd with generous wheat. But Dolon's armour, to his ships convey'd, High on the painted stern Ulysses laid, A trophy destin'd to the blue-eyed maid.


Now from nocturnal sweat and sanguine stain They cleanse their bodies in the neighb'ring main: Then in the polished bath, refresh'd from toil, Their joints they supple with dissolving oil, In due repast indulge the genial hour, And first to Pallas the libations pour: They sit, rejoicing in her aid divine, And the crown'd goblet foams with floods of wine.


Agamemnon, having armed himself, leads the Grecians to battle; Hector prepares the Trojans to receive them, while Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva give the signals of war. Agamemnon bears all before him and Hector is commanded by Jupiter (who sends Iris for that purpose) to decline the engagement, till the king shall be wounded and retire from the field. He then makes a great slaughter of the enemy. Ulysses and Diomed put a stop to him for a time but the latter, being wounded by Paris, is obliged to desert his companion, who is encompassed by the Trojans, wounded, and in the utmost danger, till Menelaus and Ajax rescue him. Hector comes against Ajax, but that hero alone opposes multitudes, and rallies the Greeks. In the meantime Machaon, in the other wing of the army, is pierced with an arrow by Paris, and carried from the fight in Nestor's chariot. Achilles (who overlooked the action from his ship) sent Patroclus to inquire which of the Greeks was wounded in that manner; Nestor entertains him in his tent with an account of the accidents of the day, and a long recital of some former wars which he remembered, tending to put Patroclus upon persuading Achilles to fight for his countrymen, or at least to permit him to do it, clad in Achilles' armour. Patroclus, on his return, meets Eurypylus also wounded, and assists him in that distress. This book opens with the eight-and-twentieth day of the poem, and the same day, with its various actions and adventures is extended through the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, and part of the eighteenth books. The scene lies in the field near the monument of Ilus.


The saffron morn, with early blushes spread,[219] Now rose refulgent from Tithonus' bed; With new-born day to gladden mortal sight, And gild the courts of heaven with sacred light: When baleful Eris, sent by Jove's command, The torch of discord blazing in her hand, Through the red skies her bloody sign extends, And, wrapt in tempests, o'er the fleet descends. High on Ulysses' bark her horrid stand She took, and thunder'd through the seas and land.


Even Ajax and Achilles heard the sound, Whose ships, remote, the guarded navy bound, Thence the black fury through the Grecian throng With horror sounds the loud Orthian song: The navy shakes, and at the dire alarms Each bosom boils, each warrior starts to arms. No more they sigh, inglorious to return, But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn.


[Illustration: ] THE DESCENT OF DISCORD


The king of men his hardy host inspires With loud command, with great example fires! Himself first rose, himself before the rest His mighty limbs in radiant armour dress'd, And first he cased his manly legs around In shining greaves with silver buckles bound; The beaming cuirass next adorn'd his breast, The same which once king Cinyras possess'd: (The fame of Greece and her assembled host Had reach'd that monarch on the Cyprian coast; 'Twas then, the friendship of the chief to gain, This glorious gift he sent, nor sent in vain:) Ten rows of azure steel the work infold, Twice ten of tin, and twelve of ductile gold; Three glittering dragons to the gorget rise, Whose imitated scales against the skies Reflected various light, and arching bow'd, Like colour'd rainbows o'er a showery cloud (Jove's wondrous bow, of three celestial dies, Placed as a sign to man amidst the skies). A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder tied, Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side: Gold was the hilt, a silver sheath encased The shining blade, and golden hangers graced. His buckler's mighty orb was next display'd, That round the warrior cast a dreadful shade; Ten zones of brass its ample brim surround, And twice ten bosses the bright convex crown'd: Tremendous Gorgon frown'd upon its field, And circling terrors fill'd the expressive shield: Within its concave hung a silver thong, On which a mimic serpent creeps along, His azure length in easy waves extends, Till in three heads the embroider'd monster ends. Last o'er his brows his fourfold helm he placed, With nodding horse-hair formidably graced; And in his hands two steely javelins wields, That blaze to heaven, and lighten all the fields.


That instant Juno, and the martial maid, In happy thunders promised Greece their aid; High o'er the chief they clash'd their arms in air, And, leaning from the clouds, expect the war.


Close to the limits of the trench and mound, The fiery coursers to their chariots bound The squires restrain'd: the foot, with those who wield The lighter arms, rush forward to the field. To second these, in close array combined, The squadrons spread their sable wings behind. Now shouts and tumults wake the tardy sun, As with the light the warriors' toils begun. Even Jove, whose thunder spoke his wrath, distill'd Red drops of blood o'er all the fatal field;[220] The woes of men unwilling to survey, And all the slaughters that must stain the day.


Near Ilus' tomb, in order ranged around, The Trojan lines possess'd the rising ground: There wise Polydamas and Hector stood; Æneas, honour'd as a guardian god; Bold Polybus, Agenor the divine; The brother-warriors of Antenor's line: With youthful Acamas, whose beauteous face And fair proportion match'd the ethereal race. Great Hector, cover'd with his spacious shield, Plies all the troops, and orders all the field. As the red star now shows his sanguine fires Through the dark clouds, and now in night retires, Thus through the ranks appear'd the godlike man, Plunged in the rear, or blazing in the van; While streamy sparkles, restless as he flies, Flash from his arms, as lightning from the skies. As sweating reapers in some wealthy field, Ranged in two bands, their crooked weapons wield, Bear down the furrows, till their labours meet; Thick fall the heapy harvests at their feet: So Greece and Troy the field of war divide, And falling ranks are strow'd on every side. None stoop'd a thought to base inglorious flight;[221] But horse to horse, and man to man they fight, Not rabid wolves more fierce contest their prey; Each wounds, each bleeds, but none resign the day. Discord with joy the scene of death descries, And drinks large slaughter at her sanguine eyes: Discord alone, of all the immortal train, Swells the red horrors of this direful plain: The gods in peace their golden mansions fill, Ranged in bright order on the Olympian hill: But general murmurs told their griefs above, And each accused the partial will of Jove. Meanwhile apart, superior, and alone, The eternal Monarch, on his awful throne, Wrapt in the blaze of boundless glory sate; And fix'd, fulfill'd the just decrees of fate. On earth he turn'd his all-considering eyes, And mark'd the spot where Ilion's towers arise; The sea with ships, the fields with armies spread, The victor's rage, the dying, and the dead.


Thus while the morning-beams, increasing bright, O'er heaven's pure azure spread the glowing light, Commutual death the fate of war confounds, Each adverse battle gored with equal wounds. But now (what time in some sequester'd vale The weary woodman spreads his sparing meal, When his tired arms refuse the axe to rear, And claim a respite from the sylvan war; But not till half the prostrate forests lay Stretch'd in long ruin, and exposed to day) Then, nor till then, the Greeks' impulsive might Pierced the black phalanx, and let in the light. Great Agamemnon then the slaughter led, And slew Bienor at his people's head: Whose squire Oïleus, with a sudden spring, Leap'd from the chariot to revenge his king; But in his front he felt the fatal wound, Which pierced his brain, and stretch'd him on the ground. Atrides spoil'd, and left them on the plain: Vain was their youth, their glittering armour vain: Now soil'd with dust, and naked to the sky, Their snowy limbs and beauteous bodies lie.


Two sons of Priam next to battle move, The product, one of marriage, one of love:[222] In the same car the brother-warriors ride; This took the charge to combat, that to guide: Far other task, than when they wont to keep, On Ida's tops, their father's fleecy sheep. These on the mountains once Achilles found, And captive led, with pliant osiers bound; Then to their sire for ample sums restored; But now to perish by Atrides' sword: Pierced in the breast the base-born Isus bleeds: Cleft through the head his brother's fate succeeds, Swift to the spoil the hasty victor falls, And, stript, their features to his mind recalls. The Trojans see the youths untimely die, But helpless tremble for themselves, and fly. So when a lion ranging o'er the lawns, Finds, on some grassy lair, the couching fawns, Their bones he cracks, their reeking vitals draws, And grinds the quivering flesh with bloody jaws; The frighted hind beholds, and dares not stay, But swift through rustling thickets bursts her way; All drown'd in sweat, the panting mother flies, And the big tears roll trickling from her eyes.


Amidst the tumult of the routed train, The sons of false Antimachus were slain; He who for bribes his faithless counsels sold, And voted Helen's stay for Paris' gold. Atrides mark'd, as these their safety sought, And slew the children for the father's fault; Their headstrong horse unable to restrain, They shook with fear, and dropp'd the silken rein; Then in the chariot on their knees they fall, And thus with lifted hands for mercy call:


"O spare our youth, and for the life we owe, Antimachus shall copious gifts bestow: Soon as he hears, that, not in battle slain, The Grecian ships his captive sons detain, Large heaps of brass in ransom shall be told, And steel well-tempered, and persuasive gold."


These words, attended with the flood of tears, The youths address'd to unrelenting ears: The vengeful monarch gave this stern reply: "If from Antimachus ye spring, ye die; The daring wretch who once in council stood To shed Ulysses' and my brother's blood, For proffer'd peace! and sues his seed for grace? No, die, and pay the forfeit of your race."


This said, Pisander from the car he cast, And pierced his breast: supine he breathed his last. His brother leap'd to earth; but, as he lay, The trenchant falchion lopp'd his hands away; His sever'd head was toss'd among the throng, And, rolling, drew a bloody train along. Then, where the thickest fought, the victor flew; The king's example all his Greeks pursue. Now by the foot the flying foot were slain, Horse trod by horse, lay foaming on the plain. From the dry fields thick clouds of dust arise, Shade the black host, and intercept the skies. The brass-hoof'd steeds tumultuous plunge and bound, And the thick thunder beats the labouring ground, Still slaughtering on, the king of men proceeds; The distanced army wonders at his deeds, As when the winds with raging flames conspire, And o'er the forests roll the flood of fire, In blazing heaps the grove's old honours fall, And one refulgent ruin levels all: Before Atrides' rage so sinks the foe, Whole squadrons vanish, and proud heads lie low. The steeds fly trembling from his waving sword, And many a car, now lighted of its lord, Wide o'er the field with guideless fury rolls, Breaking their ranks, and crushing out their souls; While his keen falchion drinks the warriors' lives; More grateful, now, to vultures than their wives!


Perhaps great Hector then had found his fate, But Jove and destiny prolong'd his date. Safe from the darts, the care of heaven he stood, Amidst alarms, and death, and dust, and blood.


Now past the tomb where ancient Ilus lay, Through the mid field the routed urge their way: Where the wild figs the adjoining summit crown, The path they take, and speed to reach the town. As swift, Atrides with loud shouts pursued, Hot with his toil, and bathed in hostile blood. Now near the beech-tree, and the Scæan gates, The hero halts, and his associates waits. Meanwhile on every side around the plain, Dispersed, disorder'd, fly the Trojan train. So flies a herd of beeves, that hear dismay'd The lion's roaring through the midnight shade; On heaps they tumble with successless haste; The savage seizes, draws, and rends the last. Not with less fury stern Atrides flew, Still press'd the rout, and still the hindmost slew; Hurl'd from their cars the bravest chiefs are kill'd, And rage, and death, and carnage load the field.


Now storms the victor at the Trojan wall; Surveys the towers, and meditates their fall. But Jove descending shook the Idaean hills, And down their summits pour'd a hundred rills: The unkindled lightning in his hand he took, And thus the many-coloured maid bespoke:


"Iris, with haste thy golden wings display, To godlike Hector this our word convey— While Agamemnon wastes the ranks around, Fights in the front, and bathes with blood the ground, Bid him give way; but issue forth commands, And trust the war to less important hands: But when, or wounded by the spear or dart, That chief shall mount his chariot, and depart, Then Jove shall string his arm, and fire his breast, Then to her ships shall flying Greece be press'd, Till to the main the burning sun descend, And sacred night her awful shade extend."


He spoke, and Iris at his word obey'd; On wings of winds descends the various maid. The chief she found amidst the ranks of war, Close to the bulwarks, on his glittering car. The goddess then: "O son of Priam, hear! From Jove I come, and his high mandate bear. While Agamemnon wastes the ranks around, Fights in the front, and bathes with blood the ground, Abstain from fight; yet issue forth commands, And trust the war to less important hands: But when, or wounded by the spear or dart, The chief shall mount his chariot, and depart, Then Jove shall string thy arm, and fire thy breast, Then to her ships shall flying Greece be press'd, Till to the main the burning sun descend, And sacred night her awful shade extend."


She said, and vanish'd. Hector, with a bound, Springs from his chariot on the trembling ground, In clanging arms: he grasps in either hand A pointed lance, and speeds from band to band; Revives their ardour, turns their steps from flight, And wakes anew the dying flames of fight. They stand to arms: the Greeks their onset dare, Condense their powers, and wait the coming war. New force, new spirit, to each breast returns; The fight renew'd with fiercer fury burns: The king leads on: all fix on him their eye, And learn from him to conquer, or to die.


Ye sacred nine! celestial Muses! tell, Who faced him first, and by his prowess fell? The great Iphidamas, the bold and young, From sage Antenor and Theano sprung; Whom from his youth his grandsire Cisseus bred, And nursed in Thrace where snowy flocks are fed. Scarce did the down his rosy cheeks invest, And early honour warm his generous breast, When the kind sire consign'd his daughter's charms (Theano's sister) to his youthful arms. But call'd by glory to the wars of Troy, He leaves untasted the first fruits of joy; From his loved bride departs with melting eyes, And swift to aid his dearer country flies. With twelve black ships he reach'd Percope's strand, Thence took the long laborious march by land. Now fierce for fame, before the ranks he springs, Towering in arms, and braves the king of kings. Atrides first discharged the missive spear; The Trojan stoop'd, the javelin pass'd in air. Then near the corslet, at the monarch's heart, With all his strength, the youth directs his dart: But the broad belt, with plates of silver bound, The point rebated, and repell'd the wound. Encumber'd with the dart, Atrides stands, Till, grasp'd with force, he wrench'd it from his hands; At once his weighty sword discharged a wound Full on his neck, that fell'd him to the ground. Stretch'd in the dust the unhappy warrior lies, And sleep eternal seals his swimming eyes. Oh worthy better fate! oh early slain! Thy country's friend; and virtuous, though in vain! No more the youth shall join his consort's side, At once a virgin, and at once a bride! No more with presents her embraces meet, Or lay the spoils of conquest at her feet, On whom his passion, lavish of his store, Bestow'd so much, and vainly promised more! Unwept, uncover'd, on the plain he lay, While the proud victor bore his arms away.


Coon, Antenor's eldest hope, was nigh: Tears, at the sight, came starting from his eye, While pierced with grief the much-loved youth he view'd, And the pale features now deform'd with blood. Then, with his spear, unseen, his time he took, Aim'd at the king, and near his elbow strook. The thrilling steel transpierced the brawny part, And through his arm stood forth the barbed dart. Surprised the monarch feels, yet void of fear On Coon rushes with his lifted spear: His brother's corpse the pious Trojan draws, And calls his country to assert his cause; Defends him breathless on the sanguine field, And o'er the body spreads his ample shield. Atrides, marking an unguarded part, Transfix'd the warrior with his brazen dart; Prone on his brother's bleeding breast he lay, The monarch's falchion lopp'd his head away: The social shades the same dark journey go, And join each other in the realms below.


The vengeful victor rages round the fields, With every weapon art or fury yields: By the long lance, the sword, or ponderous stone, Whole ranks are broken, and whole troops o'erthrown. This, while yet warm distill'd the purple flood; But when the wound grew stiff with clotted blood, Then grinding tortures his strong bosom rend, Less keen those darts the fierce Ilythiae send: (The powers that cause the teeming matron's throes, Sad mothers of unutterable woes!) Stung with the smart, all-panting with the pain, He mounts the car, and gives his squire the rein; Then with a voice which fury made more strong, And pain augmented, thus exhorts the throng:


"O friends! O Greeks! assert your honours won; Proceed, and finish what this arm begun: Lo! angry Jove forbids your chief to stay, And envies half the glories of the day."


He said: the driver whirls his lengthful thong; The horses fly; the chariot smokes along. Clouds from their nostrils the fierce coursers blow, And from their sides the foam descends in snow; Shot through the battle in a moment's space, The wounded monarch at his tent they place.


No sooner Hector saw the king retired, But thus his Trojans and his aids he fired: "Hear, all ye Dardan, all ye Lycian race! Famed in close fight, and dreadful face to face: Now call to mind your ancient trophies won, Your great forefathers' virtues, and your own. Behold, the general flies! deserts his powers! Lo, Jove himself declares the conquest ours! Now on yon ranks impel your foaming steeds; And, sure of glory, dare immortal deeds."


With words like these the fiery chief alarms His fainting host, and every bosom warms. As the bold hunter cheers his hounds to tear The brindled lion, or the tusky bear: With voice and hand provokes their doubting heart, And springs the foremost with his lifted dart: So godlike Hector prompts his troops to dare; Nor prompts alone, but leads himself the war. On the black body of the foe he pours; As from the cloud's deep bosom, swell'd with showers, A sudden storm the purple ocean sweeps, Drives the wild waves, and tosses all the deeps. Say, Muse! when Jove the Trojan's glory crown'd, Beneath his arm what heroes bit the ground? Assaeus, Dolops, and Autonous died, Opites next was added to their side; Then brave Hipponous, famed in many a fight, Opheltius, Orus, sunk to endless night; Æsymnus, Agelaus; all chiefs of name; The rest were vulgar deaths unknown to fame. As when a western whirlwind, charged with storms, Dispels the gather'd clouds that Notus forms: The gust continued, violent and strong, Rolls sable clouds in heaps on heaps along; Now to the skies the foaming billows rears, Now breaks the surge, and wide the bottom bares: Thus, raging Hector, with resistless hands, O'erturns, confounds, and scatters all their bands. Now the last ruin the whole host appals; Now Greece had trembled in her wooden walls; But wise Ulysses call'd Tydides forth, His soul rekindled, and awaked his worth. "And stand we deedless, O eternal shame! Till Hector's arm involve the ships in flame? Haste, let us join, and combat side by side." The warrior thus, and thus the friend replied:


"No martial toil I shun, no danger fear; Let Hector come; I wait his fury here. But Jove with conquest crowns the Trojan train: And, Jove our foe, all human force is vain."


He sigh'd; but, sighing, raised his vengeful steel, And from his car the proud Thymbraeus fell: Molion, the charioteer, pursued his lord, His death ennobled by Ulysses' sword. There slain, they left them in eternal night, Then plunged amidst the thickest ranks of fight. So two wild boars outstrip the following hounds, Then swift revert, and wounds return for wounds. Stern Hector's conquests in the middle plain Stood check'd awhile, and Greece respired again.


The sons of Merops shone amidst the war; Towering they rode in one refulgent car: In deep prophetic arts their father skill'd, Had warn'd his children from the Trojan field. Fate urged them on: the father warn'd in vain; They rush'd to fight, and perish'd on the plain; Their breasts no more the vital spirit warms; The stern Tydides strips their shining arms. Hypirochus by great Ulysses dies, And rich Hippodamus becomes his prize. Great Jove from Ide with slaughter fills his sight, And level hangs the doubtful scale of fight. By Tydeus' lance Agastrophus was slain, The far-famed hero of Pæonian strain; Wing'd with his fears, on foot he strove to fly, His steeds too distant, and the foe too nigh: Through broken orders, swifter than the wind, He fled, but flying left his life behind. This Hector sees, as his experienced eyes Traverse the files, and to the rescue flies; Shouts, as he pass'd, the crystal regions rend, And moving armies on his march attend. Great Diomed himself was seized with fear, And thus bespoke his brother of the war:


"Mark how this way yon bending squadrons yield! The storm rolls on, and Hector rules the field: Here stand his utmost force."—The warrior said; Swift at the word his ponderous javelin fled; Nor miss'd its aim, but where the plumage danced Razed the smooth cone, and thence obliquely glanced. Safe in his helm (the gift of Phœbus' hands) Without a wound the Trojan hero stands; But yet so stunn'd, that, staggering on the plain. His arm and knee his sinking bulk sustain; O'er his dim sight the misty vapours rise, And a short darkness shades his swimming eyes. Tydides followed to regain his lance; While Hector rose, recover'd from the trance, Remounts his car, and herds amidst the crowd: The Greek pursues him, and exults aloud: "Once more thank Phœbus for thy forfeit breath, Or thank that swiftness which outstrips the death. Well by Apollo are thy prayers repaid, And oft that partial power has lent his aid. Thou shall not long the death deserved withstand, If any god assist Tydides' hand. Fly then, inglorious! but thy flight, this day, Whole hecatombs of Trojan ghosts shall pay,"


Him, while he triumph'd, Paris eyed from far, (The spouse of Helen, the fair cause of war;) Around the fields his feather'd shafts he sent, From ancient Ilus' ruin'd monument: Behind the column placed, he bent his bow, And wing'd an arrow at the unwary foe; Just as he stoop'd, Agastrophus's crest To seize, and drew the corslet from his breast, The bowstring twang'd; nor flew the shaft in vain, But pierced his foot, and nail'd it to the plain. The laughing Trojan, with a joyful spring. Leaps from his ambush, and insults the king.


"He bleeds! (he cries) some god has sped my dart! Would the same god had fix'd it in his heart! So Troy, relieved from that wide-wasting hand, Should breathe from slaughter and in combat stand: Whose sons now tremble at his darted spear, As scatter'd lambs the rushing lion fear."


He dauntless thus: "Thou conqueror of the fair, Thou woman-warrior with the curling hair; Vain archer! trusting to the distant dart, Unskill'd in arms to act a manly part! Thou hast but done what boys or women can; Such hands may wound, but not incense a man. Nor boast the scratch thy feeble arrow gave, A coward's weapon never hurts the brave. Not so this dart, which thou may'st one day feel; Fate wings its flight, and death is on the steel: Where this but lights, some noble life expires; Its touch makes orphans, bathes the cheeks of sires, Steeps earth in purple, gluts the birds of air, And leaves such objects as distract the fair." Ulysses hastens with a trembling heart, Before him steps, and bending draws the dart: Forth flows the blood; an eager pang succeeds; Tydides mounts, and to the navy speeds.


Now on the field Ulysses stands alone, The Greeks all fled, the Trojans pouring on; But stands collected in himself, and whole, And questions thus his own unconquer'd soul:


"What further subterfuge, what hopes remain? What shame, inglorious if I quit the plain? What danger, singly if I stand the ground, My friends all scatter'd, all the foes around? Yet wherefore doubtful? let this truth suffice, The brave meets danger, and the coward flies. To die or conquer, proves a hero's heart; And, knowing this, I know a soldier's part."