Classic Poem

The Greeks thus arm'd, and made insatiate with desire of fight
About thee, Peleus' sonne, the foe, in ground of greatest height
Stood opposite, rang'd. Then Jove charg'd Themis from Olympus' top
To call a court; she every way disperst, and summon'd up
All deities. Not any floud (besides Oceanus)
But made apparance, not a Nymph (that arbours odorous,
The heads of flouds, and flowrie medowes make their sweete abodes)
Was absent there; but all at his court that is king of gods
Assembl'd, and in lightsome seates of admirable frame
(Perform'd for Jove by Vulcan) sate. Even angry Neptune came,
Nor heard the goddesse with unwilling eare; but with the rest
Made free ascension from the sea, and did his state invest
In midst of all, begun the counsell, and inquir'd of Jove
His reason for that session, and on what point did move
His high intention for the foes; he thought the heate of warre
Was then neare breaking out in flames. To him the Thunderer:
‘Thou know'st this counsell by the rest of those forepurposes
That still inclin'd me; my cares still must succour the distresse
Of Troy, though in the mouth of Fate; yet vow I not to stirre
One step from off this top of heaven, but all th' affaire referre
To any one. Here I'le hold state and freely take the joy
Of either's fate. Helpe whom ye please, for tis assur'd that Troy
Not one daye's conflict can sustaine against Æacides
If heaven oppose not. His meere lookes threw darts enow t' impresse
Their powres with trembling, but when blowes sent from his fiery hand
(Thrice heat by slaughter of his friend) shall come and countermand
Their former glories, we have feare that, though Fate keepe their wall,
Hee'l overturne it. Then descend, and ceasse not till ye all
Adde all your aides; mixe earth and heaven together with the fight
Achilles urgeth.’ These his words did such a warre excite
As no man's powre could wrastle downe; the gods with parted harts
Departed heaven, and made earth warre. To guide the Grecian darts,
Juno and Pallas, with the god that doth the earth embrace,
And most-for-man's-use Mercurie (whom good wise inwards grace)
Were partially and all emploid; and with them halted downe
(Proud of his strength) lame Mulciber, his walkers quite misgrowne,
But made him tread exceeding sure. To aide the Ilian side
The changeable-in-armes went (Mars), and him accompanied
Diana, that delights in shafts, and Phœbus, never shorne,
And Aphrodite, laughter-pleasde, and she of whom was borne
Still-yong Apollo, and the floud that runnes on golden sands,
Bright Xanthus. All these aided Troy; and till these lent their hands,
The Grecians triumpht in the aide Æacides did adde,
The Troyans trembling with his sight, so gloriously clad:
He overshin'd the field; and, Mars no harmfuller than he,
He bore the iron streame on cleare. But when Jove's high decree
Let fall the gods amongst their troupes, the field sweld and the fight
Grew fierce and horrible. The Dame that armies doth excite
Thunderd with Clamor, sometimes set at dike without the wall,
And sometimes on the bellowing shore. On th' other side, the Call
Of Mars to fight was terrible; he cried out like a storme,
Set on the citie's pinnacles, and there he would informe
Sometimes his heartnings, other times where Simois powres on
His silver currant, at the foote of high Callicolon.
And thus the blest gods both sides urg'd; they all stood in the mids
And brake Contention to the hosts. And over all their heads
The god's king, in abhorred claps, his thunder rattl'd out.
Beneath them Neptune tost the earth; the mountaines round about
Bow'd with affright and shooke their heads; Jove's hill the earth-quake felt
(Steepe Ida), trembling at her rootes, and all her fountaines spilt,
Their browes all crannied. Troy did nod; the Grecian navie plaid
(As on the sea); th' infernall king, that all things frayes, was fraid,
And leapt affrighted from his throne, cried out, lest over him
Neptune should rend in two the earth, and so his house so dim,
So lothsome, filthy and abhord of all the gods beside,
Should open both to gods and men. Thus all things shooke and cri'd,
When this blacke battell of the gods was joyning, thus arraied.
Gainst Neptune, Phœbus, with wing'd shafts; gainst Mars, the blew-eyd maid;
Gainst Juno, Phœbe, whose white hands bore singing darts of gold,
Her side arm'd with a sheafe of shafts, and (by the birth twofold
Of bright Latona) sister twin to him that shootes so farre.
Against Latona, Hermes stood (grave guard, in peace and warre,
Of human beings); gainst the god whose Empire is in fire,
The watry godhead, that great flood, to shew whose powre entire
In spoile as th' other, all his streame on lurking whirlepits trod—
Xanthus by gods, by men Scamander cald. Thus god gainst god
Enterd the field. Æacides sustain'd a fervent mind
To cope with Hector; past all these his spirit stood enclin'd
To glut Mars with the bloud of him. And at Æacides,
Apollo set Anchises' sonne. But first he did impresse
A more than naturall strength in him, and made him feele th' excesse
Infusde from heaven. Lycaon's shape gave show to his addresse
(Old Priam's sonne), and thus he spake: ‘Thou counseller of Troy,
Where now flie out those threats that late put all our Peeres in joy
Of thy fight with Æacides? Thy tongue once (steept in wine)
Durst vant as much.’ He answerd him: ‘But why wouldst thou incline
My powres gainst that proud enemie and gainst my present heate?
I meane not now to bid him blowes; that feare sounds my retreate
That heretofore discourag'd me when, after he had rac't
Lyrnessus and strong Pedasus, his still-breath'd furie chac't
Our oxen from th' Idæan hill, and set on me; but Jove
Gave strength and knees, and bore me off, that had not walke above
This center now but propt by him. Minerva's hand (that held
A light to this her favorite, whose beames shew'd and impeld
His powres to spoile) had ruin'd me. For these eares heard her crie:
“Kill, kill the seed of Ilion; kill th' Asian Lelegi.”
Meere man then must not fight with him, that still hath gods to friend,
Averting death on others' darts, and giving his no end
But with the ends of men. If God like Fortune in the fight
Would give my forces, not with ease wing'd Victorie should light
On his proud shoulders, nor he scape, though all of brasse he bosts
His plight consisteth.’ He replide: ‘Pray thou those gods of hosts
Whom he implores, as well as he; and his chance may be thine.
Thou cam'st of gods like him: the Queene that reignes in Salamine
Fame sounds thy mother—he deriv'd of lower deitie,
Old Nereus' daughter bearing him. Beare then thy heart as hie
And thy unwearied steele as right; not utterly be beate
With onely crueltie of words, not proofe against a threat.’
This strengthned him, and forth he rusht; nor could his strengthening flie
White-wristed Juno, nor his drifts. She every deitie
Of th' Achive faction cald to her, and said: ‘Ye must have care,
Neptune and Pallas, for the frame of this important warre
Ye undertake here. Venus' sonne (by Phœbus being impeld)
Runnes on Achilles. Turne him backe, or see our friend upheld
By one of us. Let not the spirit of Æacides
Be over-dar'd, but make him know the mightiest deities
Stand kind to him, and that the gods, protectors of these towres
That fight against Greece and were here before our eminent powres,
Beare no importance. And, besides, that all we stoope from heaven
To curbe this fight, that no empaire be to his person given
By any Troyans nor their aides, while this day beares the Sunne.
Hereafter, all things that are wrapt in his birth-threed and spunne
By Parcas (in that point of time his mother gave him aire)
He must sustaine. But if Report performe not the repaire
Of all this to him by the Voice of some immortall state,
He may be fearfull (if some god should set on him) that Fate
Makes him her minister. The gods, when they appeare to men
And manifest their proper formes, are passing dreadfull then.’
Neptune replide: ‘Saturnia, at no time let your Care
Exceed your Reason; tis not fit. Where onely humanes are,
We must not mixe the hands of gods; our ods is too extreme.
Sit we by in some place of height, where we may see to them,
And leave the warres of men to men. But if we see from thence
Or Mars or Phœbus enter fight or offer least offence
To Thetis' sonne, not giving free way to his conquering rage,
Then comes the conflict to our cares. We soone shall dis-engage
Achilles, and send them to heaven to settle their abode
With Equals, flying under-strifes.’ This said, the blacke-hair'd god
Led to the towre of Hercules, built circular and hie
By Pallas and the Ilians for fit securitie
To Jove's divine sonne gainst the Whale that drave him from the shore
To th' ample field. There Neptune sate and all the gods that bore
The Greekes good meaning, casting all thicke mantles made of clouds
On their bright shoulders. Th' oppos'd gods sate hid in other shrouds
On top of steepe Callicolon, about thy golden sides,
O Phœbus, brandisher of darts, and thine whose rage abides
No peace in cities. In this state these gods in counsell sate,
All lingring purposde fight, to trie who first would elevate
His heavenly weapon. High-thron'd Jove cried out to set them on,
Said, all the field was full of men and that the earth did grone
With feete of proud encounterers, burn'd with the armes of men
And barbed horse. Two champions for both the armies then
Met in their midst, prepar'd for blowes—divine Æacides
And Venus' sonne. Æneas first stept threatning forth the preasse,
His high helme nodding, and his breast bard with a shadie shield,
And shooke his javelin. Thetis' sonne did his part to the field,
As when the harmfull king of beasts (sore threatn'd to be slaine
By all the countrie up in armes) at first makes coy Disdaine
Prepare resistance, but at last, when any one hath led
Bold charge upon him with his dart, he then turnes yawning head;
Fell Anger lathers in his jawes, his great heart swels, his sterne
Lasheth his strength up, sides and thighes wadl'd with stripes to learne
Their owne powre, his eyes glow, he rores, and in he leapes to kill,
Secure of killing: so his powre then rowsde up to his will
Matchlesse Achilles, coming on to meete Anchises' sonne.
Both neare, Achilles thus enquir'd: ‘Why standst thou thus alone,
Thou sonne of Venus? Cals thy heart to change of blowes with me?
Sure Troy's whole kingdome is proposde; some one hath promist thee
The throne of Priam for my life; but Priam's selfe is wise,
And (for my slaughter) not so mad to make his throne thy prise.
Priam hath sonnes to second him. Is't then some peece of land,
Past others fit to set and sow, that thy victorious hand
The Ilians offer for my head? I hope that prise will prove
No easie conquest: once, I thinke, my busie javelin drove
(With terror) those thoughts from your spleene. Retain'st thou not the time
When, single on th' Idæan hill, I tooke thee with the crime
Of Run-away, thy Oxen left, and when thou hadst no face
That I could see, thy knees bereft it, and Lyrnessus was
The maske for that. Then that maske, too, I opened to the aire
(By Jove and Pallas' helpe) and tooke the free light from the faire,
Your Ladies bearing prisoners. But Jove and th' other gods
Then saft thee; yet againe I hope they will not adde their ods
To save thy wants, as thou presum'st; retire then, aime not at
Troy's throne by me; flie ere thy soule flies; fooles are wise too late.’
He answerd him: ‘Hope not that words can child-like terrifie
My stroke-proofe breast. I well could speake in this indecencie,
And use tart termes; but we know well what stocke us both put out—
Too gentle to beare fruites so rude. Our parents ring about
The world's round bosome, and by fame their dignities are blowne
To both our knowledges, by sight, neither to either knowne—
Thine, to mine eyes, nor mine to thine. Fame sounds thy worthinesse
From famous Peleus, the sea Nymph that hath the lovely tresse
(Thetis) thy mother; I my selfe affirme my Sire to be
Great-soul'd Anchises, she that holds the Paphian deitie
My mother. And of these, this light is now t' exhale the teares
For their lov'd issue, thee or me; childish, unworthy dares
Are not enough to part our powres. For if thy spirits want
Due excitation (by distrust of that desert I vant)
To set up all rests for my life, I'le lineally prove
(Which many will confirme) my race. First, cloud-commanding Jove
Was sire to Dardanus, that built Dardania; for the wals
Of sacred Ilion spred not yet these fields, those faire-built hals
Of divers-languag'd men not raisd; all then made populous
The foote of Ida's fountfull hill. This Jove-got Dardanus
Begot king Erichthonius, for wealth past all compares
Of living mortals; in his fens he fed three thousand mares,
All neighing by their tender foles; of which twice sixe were bred
By loftie Boreas, their dams lov'd by him as they fed;
He tooke the brave forme of a horse that shooke an azure mane,
And slept with them. These twice sixe colts had pace so swift they ranne
Upon the top-ayles of corne-eares, nor bent them any whit.
And when the brode backe of the sea their pleasure was to sit,
The superficies of his waves they slid upon, their hoves
Not dipt in danke sweate of his browes. Of Erichthonius' loves
Sprang Tros, the king of Troyans; Tros three yong princes bred,
Ilus, renowm'd Assaracus and heavenly Ganymed,
The fairest youth of all that breath'd, whom (for his beautie's love)
The gods did ravish to their state to beare the cup to Jove.
Ilus begot Laomedon; god-like Laomedon
Got Tithon, Priam, Clytius, Mars-like Hicetaon
And Lampus, Great Assaracus, Capys begot, and he
Anchises, Prince Anchises, me, King Priam, Hector. We
Sprang both of one high family. Thus fortunate men give birth,
But Jove gives vertue; he augments and he empaires the worth
Of all men, and his will, their Rule; he, strong'st, all strength affoords.
Why then paint we (like dames) the face of Conflict with our words?
Both may give language that a ship, driven with a hundred ores,
Would over-burthen: a man's tongue is voluble and poures
Words out of all sorts every way; such as you speake, you heare.
What then need we vie calumnies, like women that will weare
Their tongues out, being once incenst, and strive for strife to part
(Being on their way) they travell so? From words, words may avert—
From vertue, not. It is your steele, divine Æacides,
Must prove my proofe, as mine shall yours.’ Thus amply did he ease
His great heart of his pedigree, and sharply sent away
A dart, that caught Achilles' shield, and rung so, it did fray
The sonne of Thetis, his faire hand farre-thrusting out his shield,
For feare the long lance had driven through. O foole, to thinke twould yeeld,
And not to know the gods' firme gifts want want to yeeld so soone
To men's poore powres. The eager lance had onely conquest wonne
Of two plates, and the shield had five—two forg'd of tin, two brasse,
One (that was center-plate) of gold, and that forbad the passe
Of Anchisiades his lance. Then sent Achilles forth
His lance, that through the first fold strooke, where brasse of litle worth
And no great proofe of hides was laid; through all which Pelias ranne
His iron head, and after it his ashen body wanne
Passe to the earth, and there it stucke his top on th' other side,
And hung the shield up; which hard downe Æneas pluckt to hide
His breast from sword blowes, shrunke up round, and in his heavie eye
Was much griefe shadowed, much afraid that Pelias stucke so nie.
Then prompt Achilles, rushing in, his sword drew, and the field
Rung with his voice. Æneas now left and let hang his shield,
And (all distracted) up he snatcht a two-men's strength of stone
And either at his shield or caske he set it rudely gone,
Nor car'd where, so it strooke a place that put on armes for death.
But he (Achilles came so close) had doubtlesse sunke beneath
His owne death, had not Neptune seene and interposde the ods
Of his divine powre, uttering this to the Achaian gods:
‘I grieve for this great-hearted man; he will be sent to hell
Even instantly by Peleus' sonne, being onely mov'd to deale
By Phœbus' words. What foole is he! Phœbus did never meane
To adde to his great words his guard against the ruine then
Summon'd against him. And what cause hath he to head him on
To others' miseries, he being cleare of any trespasse done
Against the Grecians? Thankfull gifts he oft hath given to us;
Let us then quit him, and withdraw this combat; for if thus
Achilles end him, Jove will rage—since his escape in fate
Is purposde, lest the progenie of Dardanus, take date,
Whom Jove past all his issue lov'd, begot of mortall dames.
All Priam's race he hates, and this must propagate the names
Of Troyans, and their sonnes' sonnes rule to all posteritie.’
Saturnia said: ‘Make free your pleasure; save, or let him die.
Pallas and I have taken many and most publique oathes
That th' ill day never shall avert her eye (red with our wroths)
From hated Troy. No, not when all in studied fire she flames
The Greeke rage, blowing her last coale.’ This nothing turn'd his aimes
From present rescue, but through all the whizzing speares he past,
And came where both were combatting; when instantly he cast
A mist before Achilles' eyes, drew from the earth and shield
His lance, and laid it at his feete; and then tooke up and held
Aloft the light Anchises' sonne, who past (with Neptune's force)
Whole orders of Heroes' heads and many a troope of horse
Leapt over, till the bounds he reacht of all the fervent broyle,
Where all the Caucons' quarters lay. Thus (farre freed from the toyle)
Neptune had time to use these words: ‘Æneas, who was he
Of all the gods that did so much neglect thy good, and thee,
To urge thy fight with Thetis' sonne—who in immortall rates
Is better and more deare than thee? Hereafter, lest (past fates)
Hell be thy headlong home, retire; make bold stand never neare
Where he advanceth; but, his fate once satisfied, then beare
A free, and full sayle: no Greeke else shall end thee.’ This reveald,
He left him, and disperst the cloud that all this act conceald
From vext Achilles, who againe had cleare light from the skies,
And (much disdaining the escape) said: ‘O ye gods, mine eyes
Discover miracles: my lance submitted, and he gone
At whom I sent it with desire of his confusion!
Æneas sure was lov'd of heaven; I thought his vant from thence
Had flow'd from glorie. Let him go; no more experience
Will his mind long for of my hands, he flies them now so cleare.
Cheare then the Greeks and others trie.’ Thus rang'd he every where
The Grecian orders; every man (of which the most lookt on
To see their fresh Lord shake his lance) he thus put charge upon:
‘Divine Greeks, stand not thus at gaze, but man to man apply
Your severall valours: tis a taske laide too unequally
On me—left to so many men, one man opposde to all.
Not Mars, immortall and a god, nor warre's She-Generall,
A field of so much fight could chace and worke it out with blowes.
But what a man may execute, that all lims will expose,
And all their strength to th' utmost nerve (though now I lost some play
By some strange miracle) no more shall burne in vaine the day
To any least beame. All this host I'le ransacke, and have hope
Of all not one (againe) will scape, whoever gives such scope
To his adventure, and so neare dares tempt my angry lance.’
Thus he excited. Hector then as much strives to advance
The hearts of his men, adding threates, affirming he would stand
In combat with Æacides. ‘Give Feare,’ said he, ‘no hand
Of your great hearts, brave Ilians, for Peleus' talking Sonne.
I'le fight with any god with words; but when their speares put on,
The worke runs high, their strength exceeds mortalitie so farre
And they may make works crowne their words, which holds not in the warre
Achilles makes; his hands have bounds; this word he shall make good
And leave another to the field: his worst shall be withstood
With sole objection of my selfe. Though in his hands he beare
A rage like fire, though fire it selfe his raging fingers were
And burning steele flew in his strength.’ Thus he incited his,
And they raisd lances, and to worke with mixed courages.
And up flew Clamor, but the heate in Hector Phœbus gave
This temper: ‘Do not meet,’ said he, ‘in any single brave
The man thou threatn'st, but in preasse and in thy strength impeach
His violence; for farre off or neare his sword or dart will reach.’
The god's voice made a difference in Hector's owne conceipt
Betwixt his and Achilles' words, and gave such overweight
As weigh'd him backe into his strength and curb'd his flying out.
At all threw fierce Æacides, and gave a horrid shout.
The first of all he put to dart was fierce Iphition,
Surnam'd Otryntides, whom Nais, the water Nymph, made sonne
To towne-destroyer Otrynteus. Beneath the snowy hill
Of Tmolus, in the wealthie towne of Hyde, at his will,
Were many able men at armes. He, rushing in, tooke full
Pelides' lance in his head's midst, that cleft in two his skull.
Achilles knew him one much fam'd, and thus insulted then:
‘Th' art dead, Otryntides, though cald the terriblest of men.
Thy race runs at Gygæus' lake, there thy inheritance lay,
Neare fishy Hyllus and the gulfs of Hermus; but this day
Removes it to the fields of Troy.’ Thus left he Night to sease
His closed eyes, his body laid in course of all the prease,
Which Grecian horse broke with the strakes naild to their chariot wheels.
Next (through the temples) the burst eyes his deadly javelin seeles
Of great-in-Troy Antenor's sonne, renown'd Demoleon,
A mightie turner of a field. His overthrow set gone
Hippodamas, who leapt from horse and, as he fled before
Æacides, his turned backe he made fell Pelias gore,
And forth he puft his flying soule. And as a tortur'd Bull
(To Neptune brought for sacrifice) a troope of yongsters pull
Downe to the earth, and dragge him round about the hallowed shore
To please the watry deitie, with forcing him to rore,
And forth he powres his utmost throte: so bellow'd this slaine friend
Of flying Ilion, with the breath that gave his being end.
Then rusht he on, and in his eye had heavenly Polydore,
Old Priam's sonne, whom last of all his fruitfull Princesse bore,
And for his youth (being deare to him) the king forbad to fight.
Yet (hote of unexperienc't blood, to shew how exquisite
He was of foote, for which of all the fiftie sonnes he held
The speciall name) he flew before the first heate of the field,
Even till he flew out breath and soule—which, through the backe, the lance
Of swift Achilles put in ayre, and did his head advance
Out at his navill. On his knees the poore Prince crying fell,
And gatherd with his tender hands his entrailes, that did swell
Quite through the wide wound, till a cloud as blacke as death conceald
Their sight and all the world from him. When Hector had beheld
His brother tumbl'd so to earth (his entrailes still in hand),
Darke sorrow overcast his eyes, nor farre off could he stand
A minute longer, but like fire he brake out of the throng,
Shooke his long lance at Thetis' sonne; and then came he along
To feed th' encounter: ‘O,’ said he, ‘here comes the man that most
Of all the world destroyes my minde, the man by whom I lost
My deare Patroclus. Now not long the crooked paths of warre
Can yeeld us any privie scapes. Come, keepe not off so farre,’
He cryed to Hector, ‘make the paine of thy sure death as short
As one so desperate of his life hath reason.’ In no sort
This frighted Hector, who bore close, and said: ‘Æacides,
Leave threates for children. I have powre to thunder calumnies
As well as others, and well know thy strength superiour farre
To that my nerves hold. But the gods (not nerves) determine warre.
And yet (for nerves) there will be found a strength of powre in mine
To drive a lance home to thy life; my lance as well as thine
Hath point and sharpenesse, and tis this.’ Thus brandishing his speare,
He set it flying, which a breath of Pallas backe did beare
From Thetis' sonne to Hector's selfe, and at his feet it fell.
Achilles usde no dart but close flew in, and thought to deale
With no strokes but of sure dispatch; but what with all his blood
He labor'd Phœbus clear'd with ease, as being a god, and stood
For Hector's guard, as Pallas did, Æacides, for thine.
He rapt him from him, and a cloud of much Night cast betweene
His person and the point opposde. Achilles then exclaim'd:
‘O see, yet more gods are at worke; Apollo's hand hath fram'd,
Dog that thou art, thy rescue now—to whom go pay the vowes
Thy safetie owes him. I shall vent, in time, those fatall blowes
That yet beate in my heart on thine, if any god remaine
My equall fautor. In meane time, my anger must maintaine
His fire on other Ilians.’ Then laid he at his feet
Great Demuchus, Philetor's sonne, and Dryope did greet
With like encounter. Dardanus, and strong Laogonus
(Wise Bias' sonnes) he hurld from horse, of one victorious
With his close sword, the other's life he conquerd with his lance.
Then Tros, Alastor's sonne, made in, and sought to scape their chance
With free submission. Downe he fell, and praid about his knees
He would not kill him, but take ruth, as one that Destinies
Made to that purpose, being a man borne in the selfe same yeare
That he himselfe was. O poore foole, to sue to him to beare
A ruthfull mind; he well might know he could not fashion him
In Ruth's soft mould; he had no spirit to brooke that interim
In his hote furie, he was none of these remorsefull men,
Gentle and affable, but fierce at all times, and mad then.
He gladly would have made a prayre, and still so hugg'd his knee
He could not quit him: till at last his sword was faine to free
His fetterd knees, that made a vent for his white liver's blood
That causd such pittifull affects: of which it pour'd a flood
About his bosome, which it fild even till it drownd his eyes
And all sense faild him. Forth then flew this Prince of tragedies,
Who next stoopt Mulius even to death with his insatiate speare;
One eare it enterd and made good his passe to th' other eare.
Echeclus then (Agenor's sonne) he strooke betwixt the browes,
Whose blood set fire upon his sword that coold it till the throwes
Of his then labouring braine let out his soule to fixed fate,
And gave cold entrie to blacke death. Deucalion then had state
In these men's beings; where the nerves about the elbow knit
Downe to his hand his speare's steele pierc't, and brought such paine to it
As led Death joyntly, whom he saw before his fainting eyes
And in his necke felt, with a stroke laid on so that off flies
His head; one of the twise twelve bones that all the backe bone make
Let out his marrow—when the head he, helme and all, did take
And hurl'd amongst the Ilians, the body stretcht on earth.
Rhigmus of fruitfull Thrace next fell; he was the famous birth
Of Pireus. His bellie's midst the lance tooke, whose sterne force
Quite tumbl'd him from chariot. In turning backe the horse,
Their guider Areithous receiv'd another lance
That threw him to his Lord. No end was put to the mischance
Achilles enterd. But as fire falne in a flash from heaven,
Inflames the high-woods of drie hils, and with a storme is driven
Through all the Sylvane deepes, and raves, till downe goes every where
The smotherd hill: so every way Achilles and his speare
Consum'd the Champaine, the blacke earth flow'd with the veines he tore.
And looke how Oxen (yok't and driven about the circular floore
Of some faire barne) treade sodainly the thicke sheaves thin of corne,
And all the corne consum'd with chaffe; so mixt and overborne
Beneath Achilles' one-hov'd horse shields, speares and men lay trod,
His axel-tree and chariot wheeles all spatterd with the blood
Hurl'd from the steeds' hoves and the strakes. Thus to be magnified,
His most inaccessible hands in humane blood he died.