Classic Poem

The chearfull Ladie of the light, deckt in her saffron robe,
Disperst her beames through every part of this enflowred globe,
When thundring Jove a Court of Gods assembled by his will
In top of all the topfull heights that crowne th' Olympian hill.
He spake, and all the Gods gave eare: ‘Heare how I stand inclind—
That God nor Goddesse may attempt t' infringe my soveraigne mind,
But all give suffrage, that with speed I may these discords end.
What God soever I shall find indevour to defend
Or Troy or Greece, with wounds to heaven he (sham'd) shall reascend;
Or (taking him with his offence) I'le cast him downe as deepe
As Tartarus (the brood of night) where Barathrum doth steepe
Torment in his profoundest sinks, where is the floore of brasse
And gates of iron; the place for depth as farre doth hell surpasse
As heaven (for height) exceeds the earth: then shall he know from thence
How much my power, past all the Gods, hath soveraigne eminence.
Indanger it the whiles and see let downe our golden chaine,
And at it let all Deities their utmost strengths constraine
To draw me to the earth from heaven: you never shall prevaile
Though with your most contention ye dare my state assaile.
But when my will shall be disposd to draw you all to me,
Even with the earth it selfe and seas ye shall enforced be.
Then will I to Olympus' top our vertuous engine bind
And by it everie thing shall hang by my command inclind.
So much I am supreme to Gods, to men supreme as much.’
The Gods sat silent and admir'd, his dreadfull speech was such.
At last his blue-eyd daughter spake: ‘O great Saturnides,
O Father, O heaven's highest King, well know we the excesse
Of thy great power compar'd with all. Yet the bold Greekes' estate
We needs must mourne, since they must fall beneath so hard a fate.
For if thy grave command enjoyne, we will abstaine from fight,
But to afford them such advice as may relieve their plight
We will (with thy consent) be bold, that all may not sustaine
The fearefull burthen of thy wrath and with their shames be slaine.’
He smil'd and said: ‘Be confident: thou art belov'd of me.
I speake not this with serious thoughts, but will be kind to thee.’
This said, his brasse-hov'd winged horse he did to chariot bind,
Whose crests were fring'd with manes of gold, and golden garments shin'd
On his rich shoulders; in his hand he tooke a golden scourge,
Divinely fashiond, and with blowes their willing speed did urge
Midway betwixt the earth and heaven. To Ida then he came,
Abounding in delicious springs and nurse of beasts untame,
Where (on the mountaine Gargarus) men did a Fane erect
To his high name, and altars sweet: and there his horse he checkt,
Dissolv'd them from his chariot, and in a cloud of jeate
He coverd them, and on the top tooke his triumphant seate,
Beholding Priam's famous towne and all the Fleet of Greece.
The Greeks tooke breakfast speedily, and arm'd at everie peece—
So Troyans, who, though fewer farre, yet all to fight tooke armes:
Dire need enforc't them, to avert their wives' and children's harmes.
All gates flew open: all the host did issue, foote and horse,
In mightie tumult: straite one place adjoynd each adverse force.
Then shields with shields met, darts with darts, strength against strength opposd.
The bosse-pik't targets were thrust on and thunderd as they closd
In mightie tumult: grone for grone and breath for breath did breath
Of men then slaine and to be slaine: earth flowd with fruits of death.
While the faire morning's beautie held, and day increast in height,
Their Javelins mutually made death transport an equall freight.
But when the hote Meridian point bright Phœbus did ascend,
Then Jove his golden Ballances did equally extend,
And, of long-rest-conferring death, put in two bitter fates
For Troy and Greece; he held the midst: the day of finall dates
Fell on the Greeks: the Greeks' hard lots sunke to the flowrie ground,
The Troyans' leapt as high as heaven. Then did the claps resound
Of his fierce thunder: lightning leapt amongst each Grecian troope:
The sight amaz'd them: pallid feare made boldest stomacks stoope.
Then Idomen durst not abide: Atrides went his way,
And both th' Ajaces: Nestor yet against his will did stay
(That grave Protector of the Greekes), for Paris with a dart
Enrag'd one of his chariot horse: he smote the upper part
Of all his skull, even where the haire that made his foretop sprung.
The hurt was deadly, and the paine so sore the courser stung
(Pierc't to the braine) he stampt and plung'd: one on another beares,
Entangled round about the beame. Then Nestor cut the geres
With his new-drawne authentique sword. Meanewhile the firie horse
Of Hector brake into the preasse with their bold ruler's force.
Then good old Nestor had bene slaine had Diomed not espied,
Who to Ulysses, as he fled, importunately cried:
‘Thou that in counsels dost abound, O Laertiades,
Why flyest thou? why thus cowardlike shunst thou the honourd prease?
Take heed thy backe take not a dart: stay, let us both intend
To drive this cruell enemie from our deare aged friend.’
He spake, but warie Ithacus would find no patient eare,
But fled forthright, even to the fleet. Yet, though he single were,
Brave Diomed mixt amongst the fight, and stood before the steeds
Of old Neleides, whose estate thus kingly he areeds:
‘O father, with these youths in fight thou art unequall plac't;
Thy willing sinewes are unknit; grave age pursues thee fast;
And thy unruly horse are slow. My chariot therefore use
And trie how readie Troyan horse can flie him that pursues,
Pursue the flier and every way performe the varied fight.
I forc't them from Anchises' sonne, well-skild in cause of flight.
Then let my Squire leade hence thy horse: mine thou shalt guard, whilst I
(By thee advanc't) assay the fight, that Hector's selfe may trie
If my lance dote with the defects that faile best minds in age
Or find the palsey in my hands that doth thy life engage.’
This noble Nestor did accept, and Diomed's two friends,
Eurymedon, that valour loves, and Sthenelus ascends
Old Nestor's coach: of Diomed's horse Nestor the charge sustains,
And Tydeus' sonne took place of fight. Neleides held the rains
And scourg'd the horse, who swiftly ran direct in Hector's face,
Whom fierce Tydides bravely charg'd: but he, turnd from the chace,
His javeline Eniopeus smit, mightie Thebæus' sonne,
And was great Hector's chariotere: it through his breast did runne
Neare to his pappe: he fell to earth: backe flew his frighted horse:
His strength and soule were both dissolv'd. Hector had deepe remorse
Of his mishap, yet left he him and for another sought.
Nor long his steeds did want a guide, for straight good fortune brought
Bold Archeptolemus, whose life did from Iphitus spring.
He made him take the reines and mount: then soules were set on wing;
Then high exploits were undergone: then Troyans in their wals
Had bene infolded like meeke Lambs, had Jove winkt at their fals,
Who hurld his horrid thunder forth and made pale lightnings flie
Into the earth before the horse that Nestor did applie.
A dreadfull flash burnt through the aire that savourd sulphure-like,
Which downe before the chariot the dazled horse did strike.
The faire reines fell from Nestor's hand, who did (in feare) intreate
Renownd Tydides into flight to turne his furie's heate.
‘For knowest thou not,’ said he, ‘our aide is not supplide from Jove?
This day he will give fame to Troy, which when it fits his love
We shall enjoy: let no man tempt his unresisted will,
Though he exceed in gifts of strength, for he exceeds him still.’
‘Father,’ replied the king, ‘tis true, but both my heart and soule
Are most extremely griev'd to thinke how Hector will controule
My valour with his vants in Troy—that I was terror-sicke
With his approch: which when he boasts, let earth devoure me quicke.’
‘Ah warlike Tydeus' sonne,’ said he, ‘what needlesse words are these?
Though Hector should report thee faint and amorous of thy ease,
The Troyans nor the Troyan wives would never give him trust—
Whose youthfull husbands thy free hand hath smotherd so in dust.’
This said, he turn'd his one-hov'd horse to flight, and troope did take,
When Hector and his men with showts did greedie pursute make
And pour'd on darts that made aire sigh. Then Hector did exclame:
‘O Tydeus' sonne, the kings of Greece do most renowne thy name
With highest place, feasts and full cups—who now will do thee shame.
Thou shalt be like a woman usd, and they will say: “Depart,
Immartiall minion, since to stand Hector thou hadst no hart.”
Nor canst thou scale our turrets' tops, nor leade the wives to fleet
Of valiant men, that wifelike fear'st my adverse charge to meet.’
This two waies mov'd him, still to flie or turne his horse and fight.
Thrice thrust he forward to assault, and every time the fright
Of Jove's fell thunder drave him backe, which he proposd for signe
(To shew the change of victorie) Troyans should victors shine.
Then Hector comforted his men: ‘All my adventrous friends,
Be men, and of your famous strength thinke of the honourd ends.
I know benevolent Jupiter did by his becke professe
Conquest and high renowne to me, and to the Greeks distresse.
O fooles, to raise such silly forts, not worth the least account
Nor able to resist our force! With ease our horse may mount
Quite over all their hollow dike. But when their fleet I reach,
Let Memorie to all the world a famous bonfire teach:
For I will all their ships inflame, with whose infestive smoke
(Feare-shrunke and hidden neare their keels) the conquerd Greeks shall choke.’
Then cherisht he his famous horse: ‘O Xanthus, now,’ said he,
‘And thou Podargus, Æthon too, and Lampus, deare to me,
Make me some worthy recompence for so much choice of meate
Given you by faire Andromache—bread of the purest wheate
And with it (for your drinke) mixt wine, to make ye wished cheare—
Still serving you before my selfe (her husband young and deare).
Pursue and use your swiftest speed, that we may take for prise
The shield of old Neleides, which Fame lifts to the skies,
Even to the handles telling it to be of massie gold.
And from the shoulders let us take of Diomed the bold
The royall curace Vulcan wrought with art so exquisite.
These if we make our sacred spoile, I doubt not but this Night
Even to their navie to enforce the Greekes' unturned flight.’
This Juno tooke in high disdaine and made Olympus shake
As she but stird within her throne, and thus to Neptune spake:
‘O Neptune, what a spite is this! Thou God so huge in power,
Afflicts it not thy honor'd heart to see rude spoile devoure
These Greekes that have in Helice and Ægæ offred thee
So many and such wealthie gifts let them the victors be?
If we that are the aids of Greece would beate home these of Troy
And hinder brode-eyd Jove's prowd will, it would abate his joy.’
He (angrie) told her she was rash, and he would not be one,
Of all the rest, should strive with Jove, whose power was matcht by none.
Whiles they conferd thus, all the space the trench containd before
(From that part of the fort that flankt the navie-anchoring shore)
Was fild with horse and targateirs who there for refuge came,
By Mars-swift Hector's power engagde: Jove gave his strength the fame,
And he with spoilefull fire had burnt the fleet if Juno's grace
Had not inspirde the king himselfe to run from place to place
And stirre up everie souldier's powre to some illustrous deed.
First visiting their leaders' tents, his ample purple weed
He wore to shew all who he was; and did his station take
At wise Ulysses' sable barkes, that did the battell make
Of all the fleet; from whence his speech might with more ease be driven
To Ajax' and Achilles' ships, to whose chiefe charge were given
The Vantguard and the Rereguard both—both for their force of hand
And trustie bosomes. There arriv'd, thus urg'd he to withstand
Th' insulting Troyans: ‘O what shame, ye emptie-hearted Lords,
Is this to your admired formes? where are your glorious words,
In Lemnos vaunting you the best of all the Grecian host?
“We are the strongest men,” ye said, “we will command the most,
Eating most flesh of high-hornd beeves and drinking cups full crownd,
And everie man a hundred foes, two hundred, will confound.”
Now all our strength, dar'd to our worst, one Hector cannot tame,
Who presently with horrid fire will all our fleet inflame.
O Father Jove, hath ever yet thy most unsuffred hand
Afflicted with such spoile of soules the king of any land,
And taken so much fame from him?—when I did never faile
(Since under most unhappie starres this fleet was under saile)
Thy glorious altars, I protest; but above all the Gods
Have burnt fat thighs of beeves to thee, and praid to race th' abodes
Of rape-defending Ilians. Yet grant, almightie Jove,
One favour, that we may at least with life from hence remove,
Not under such inglorious hands the hands of death imploy,
And where Troy should be stoopt by Greece, let Greece fall under Troy.’
To this even weeping king did Jove remorsefull audience give,
And shooke great heaven to him for signe his men and he should live.
Then quickly cast he off his hawke, the Eagle, prince of aire,
That perfects his unspotted vowes, who seisd in her repaire
A sucking hinde calfe, which she truss't in her enforcive seeres,
And by Jove's altar let it fall amongst th' amazed peeres,
Where the religious Achive kings with sacrifice did please
The authour of all Oracles, divine Saturnides.
Now, when they knew the bird of Jove, they turnd couragious head—
When none (though many kings put on) could make his vaunt, he led
Tydides to renewd assault, or issued first the dike,
Or first did fight; but farre the first, stone-dead his lance did strike
Arm'd Agelaus, by descent surnam'd Phradmonides.
He turn'd his readie horse to flight, and Diomed's lance did seise
His backe betwixt his shoulder blades and lookt out at his brest.
He fell, and his armes rang his fall. Th' Atrides next addrest
Themselves to fight, th' Ajaces next with vehement strength endude:
Idomeneus and his friend, stout Merion, next pursude,
And after these Eurypylus, Euæmon's honord race:
The ninth, with backward-wreathed bow, had little Teucer place.
He still fought under Ajax' shield, who sometimes held it by
And then he lookt his object out and let his arrow flie,
And whomsoever in the preasse he wounded, him he slue,
Then under Ajax' seven-fold shield he presently withdrew.
He far'd like an unhappie child that doth to mother run
For succour, when he knowes full well he some shrewd turne hath done.
What Troyans then were to their deaths by Teucer's shafts imprest?
Haplesse Orsilochus was first, Ormenus, Ophelest,
Dætor and hardie Chromius and Lycophon divine,
And Amopaon, that did spring from Polyæmon's line,
And Melanippus—all on heapes he tumbled to the ground.
The king rejoyc't to see his shafts the Phrygian ranks confound,
Who straight came neare and spake to him: ‘O Teucer, lovely man,
Strike still so sure, and be a grace to everie Grecian
And to thy father Telamon, who tooke thee kindly home
(Although not by his wife, his sonne) and gave thee foster roome,
Even from thy childhood. Then to him, though far from hence remov'd,
Make good fame reach, and to thy selfe I vow what shall be prov'd—
If he that dreadfull Ægis beares and Pallas grant to me
Th' expugnance of wel-builded Troy, I first will honour thee
Next to my selfe with some rich gift and put it in thy hand—
A three-foot vessell that for grace in sacred Fanes doth stand,
Or two horse and a chariot, or else a lovely Dame
That may ascend on bed with thee and amplifie thy name.’
Teucer right nobly answerd him: ‘Why, most illustrate king,
I being thus forward of my selfe, dost thou adjoyne a sting?
Without which, all the power I have I ceasse not to imploy,
For from the place where we repulst the Troyans towards Troy
I all the purple field have strew'd with one or other slaine.
Eight shafts I shot, with long steele heads, of which not one in vaine.
All were in youthfull bodies fixt, well-skild in warre's constraint.
Yet this wild dog, with all my aime, I have no power to taint.’
This said, another arrow forth from his stiffe string he sent
At Hector, whom he long'd to wound: but still amisse it went.
His shaft smit faire Gorgythion, of Priam's princely race,
Who in Æsyme was brought forth (a famous towne in Thrace)
By Castianira, that for forme was like celestiall breed.
And as a crimson Poppie flower, surcharged with his seed
And vernall humors falling thicke, declines his heavie brow;
So of one side his helmet's weight his fainting head did bow.
Yet Teucer would another shaft at Hector's life dispose,
So faine he such a marke would hit; but still besides it goes.
Apollo did avert the shaft: but Hector's charioteere
Bold Archeptolemus he smit as he was rushing neere
To make the fight: to earth he fell, his swift horse backe did flie,
And there were both his strength and soule exilde eternally.
Huge griefe, for Hector's slaughterd friend, pincht-in his mightie mind,
Yet was he forc't to leave him there, and his void place resignd
To his sad brother that was by, Cebriones; whose eare
Receiving Hector's charge, he straight the weightie reines did beare,
And Hector from his shining coach (with horrid voice) leapt on
To wreake his friend on Teucer's hand, and up he tooke a stone
With which he at the Archer ran, who from his quiver drew
A sharpe-pild shaft and nockt it sure. But in great Hector flew
With such fell speed that in his draught he his right shoulder strooke
Where twixt his necke and breast the joynt his native closure tooke.
The wound was wondrous full of death; his string in sunder flees;
His nummed hand fell strengthlesse downe, and he upon his knees.
Ajax neglected not to aid his brother thus deprest,
But came and saft him with his shield; and two more friends, addrest
To be his aide, tooke him to fleet—Mecisteus, Echius' son,
And gay Alastor. Teucer sigh'd for all his service done.
Then did Olympius with fresh strength the Troyan powers revive,
Who to their trenches once againe the troubled Greekes did drive.
Hector brought terror with his strength, and ever fought before.
As when some highly-stomackt hound, that hunts a sylvan Bore
Or kingly Lion, loves the hanch and pincheth oft behind,
Bold of his feet, and still observes the game to turne inclind,
Not utterly dissolv'd in flight—so Hector did pursue,
And whosoever was the last, he ever did subdue.
They fled, but when they had their dike and Pallesados past,
(A number of them put to sword) at ships they staid at last.
Then mutuall exhortations flew; then all, with hands and eyes
Advanc't to all the Gods, their plagues wrung from them open cries.
Hector, with his fowre rich-man'd horse, assaulting alwaies rode
The eyes of Gorgon burnt in him and warre's vermilion God.
The Goddesse that all Goddesses for snowie armes out-shin'd
Thus spake to Pallas, to the Greeks with gracious ruth inclin'd:
‘O Pallas, what a griefe is this! Is all our succour past
To these our perishing Grecian friends—at least, withheld at last,
Even now, when one man's violence must make them perish all
In satisfaction of a Fate so full of funerall?
Hector Priamides now raves, no more to be indur'd,
That hath alreadie on the Greeks so many harmes inur'd.’
The azure Goddesse answerd her: ‘This man had surely found
His fortitude and life dissolv'd, even on his father's ground,
By Grecian valour if my Sire, infested with ill moods,
Did not so dote on these of Troy, too jelous of their bloods,
And ever an unjust repulse stands to my willing powres,
Little remembring what I did in all the desperate howres
Of his affected Hercules. I ever rescued him
In labours of Eurystheus, untoucht in life or lim,
When he (heaven knowes) with drowned eyes lookt up for helpe to heaven,
Which ever at command of Jove was by my suppliance given.
But had my wisdome reacht so farre to know of this event,
When to the solid-ported depths of hell his sonne was sent
To hale out hatefull Pluto's dog from darksome Erebus,
He had not scap't the streames of Styx, so deepe and dangerous.
Yet Jove hates me and shews his love in doing Thetis' will,
That kist his knees and strok't his chin, praid and importun'd still
That he would honour with his aid her cittie-razing sonne,
Displeasd Achilles: and for him our friends are thus undone.
But time shall come againe when he (to do his friends some aid)
Will call me his Glaucopides, his sweet and blew-eyd maid.
Then harnesse thou thy horse for me that his bright Pallace gates
I soone may enter, arming me, to order these debates:
And I will trie if Priam's sonne will still maintaine his cheare
When in the crimson paths of warre I dreadfully appeare—
For some prowd Troyans shall be sure to nourish dogs and foules
And pave the shore with fat and flesh, depriv'd of lives and soules.’
Juno prepar'd her horse, whose manes Ribands of gold enlac't.
Pallas her partie-coloured robe on her bright shoulders cast,
Divinely wrought with her owne hands, in th' entrie of her Sire.
Then put she on her ample breast her under-arming tire,
And on it her celestiall armes. The chariot streight she takes,
With her huge heavie violent lance, with which she slaughter makes
Of armies fatall to her wrath. Saturnia whipt her horse,
And heaven gates, guarded by the Howres, op't by their proper force,
Through which they flew. Whom when Jove saw (set neare th' Idalian springs)
Highly displeasd, he Iris cald, that hath the golden wings,
And said: ‘Flie, Iris, turne them backe; let them not come at me.
Our meetings (severally disposd) will nothing gracious be.
Beneath their o'rethrowne chariot I'le shiver their prowd steeds,
Hurle downe themselves, their wagon breake and, for their stubborne deeds,
In ten whole yeares they shall not heale the wounds I will impresse
With horrid thunder—that my maid may know when to addresse
Armes gainst her father. For my wife, she doth not so offend:
Tis but her use to interrupt what ever I intend.’
Iris, with this, left Ida's hils and up t' Olympus flew,
Met (neare heaven gates) the Goddesses and thus their haste withdrew:
‘What course intend you? Why are you wrapt with your fancie's storme?
Jove likes not ye should aid the Greeks, but threats—and will performe—
To crush in peeces your swift horse beneath their glorious yokes,
Hurle downe your selves, your chariot breake, and those impoysoned strokes
His wounding thunder shall imprint in your celestiall parts,
In ten full Springs ye shall not cure—that she that tames proud hearts
(Thy selfe, Minerva) may be taught to know for what, and when,
Thou doest against thy father fight: for sometimes childeren
May with discretion plant themselves against their fathers' wils,
But not where humors onely rule in works beyond their skils.
For Juno, she offends him not, nor vexeth him so much,
For tis her use to crosse his will, her impudence is such.
The habite of offence in this she onely doth contract
And so grieves or incenseth lesse, though nere the lesse her fact.
But thou most griev'st him, dogged Dame, whom he rebukes in time,
Lest silence should pervert thy will and pride too highly clime
In thy bold bosome, desperate girle, if seriously thou dare
Lift thy unwieldie lance gainst Jove, as thy pretences are.’
She left them, and Saturnia said: ‘Ay me, thou seed of Jove,
By my advice we will no more unfit contention move
With Jupiter for mortall men; of whom, let this man die
And that man live, whoever he pursues with destinie.
And let him (plotting all events) dispose of either host
As he thinks fittest for them both and may become us most.’
Thus turnd she backe, and to the Howres her rich-man'd horse resign'd,
Who them t' immortall mangers bound: the chariot they inclin'd
Beneath the Christall walls of heaven, and they in golden thrones
Consorted other Deities, repleate with passions.
Jove, in his bright-wheeld chariot, his firie horse now beats
Up to Olympus, and aspir'd the Gods' eternall seats.
Great Neptune loosd his horse, his Carre upon the Altar plac't
And heavenly-linnen Coverings did round about it cast.
The farre-seer usd his throne of gold: the vast Olympus shooke
Beneath his feete. His wife and maid apart their places tooke,
Nor any word afforded him. He knew their thoughts, and said:
‘Why do you thus torment your selves? You need not sit dismaid
With the long labours you have usd in your victorious fight,
Destroying Troyans, gainst whose lives you heape such high despight.
Ye should have held your glorious course, for be assur'd, as farre
As all my powres (by all meanes urg'd) could have sustaind the warre,
Not all the host of Deities should have retir'd my hand
From vowd inflictions on the Greeks—much lesse, you two withstand.
But you before you saw the fight—much lesse the slaughter there—
Had all your goodly lineaments possest with shaking feare,
And never had your chariot borne their charge to heaven againe,
But thunder should have smit you both had you one Troyan slaine.’
Both Goddesses let fall their chins upon their Ivorie breasts,
Set next to Jove, contriving still afflicted Troy's unrests.
Pallas for anger could not speake; Saturnia, contrarie,
Could not for anger hold her peace, but made this bold replie:
‘Not-to-be-suffred Jupiter, what needst thou still enforce
Thy matchlesse power? We know it well. But we must yeeld remorse
To them that yeeld us sacrifice—nor needst thou thus deride
Our kind obedience nor our griefes, but beare our powers applide
To just protection of the Greeks, that anger tombe not all
In Troy's foule gulfe of perjurie, and let them stand should fall.’
‘Greeve not,’ said Jove, ‘at all done yet: for if thy faire eyes please,
This next red morning they shall see the great Saturnides
Bring more destruction to the Greekes: and Hector shall not cease
Till he have rowsed from the Fleet swift-foot Æacides,
In that day when, before their ships, for his Patroclus slaine,
The Greekes in great distresse shall fight: for so the Fates ordaine.
I weight not thy displeased spleene, though to th' extremest bounds
Of earth and seas it carrie thee, where endlesse night confounds
Japet and my dejected Sire, who sit so farre beneath
They never see the flying Sunne, nor heare the winds that breath
Neare to profoundest Tartarus—nor thither if thou went
Would I take pittie of thy moods, since none more impudent.’
To this she nothing did replie. And now Sol's glorious light
Fell to the sea, and to the land drew up the drowsie night.
The Troyans griev'd at Phœbus' fall, which all the Greeks desir'd,
And sable night (so often wisht) to earth's firme throne aspir'd.
Hector (intending to consult) neare to the gulfie flood,
Farre from the Fleet, led to a place pure and exempt from blood
The Troyans' forces. From their horse all lighted and did heare
Th' Oration Jove-lov'd Hector made, who held a goodly speare
Eleven full cubits long: the head was brasse and did reflect
A wanton light before him still: it round about was deckt
With strong hoops of new-burnisht gold. On this he leand, and said:
‘Heare me, my worthie friends of Troy, and you our honord aid.
A little since I had conceipt we should have made retreate
By light of the inflamed fleet with all the Greeks' escheate.
But darknesse hath prevented us, and safte, with speciall grace,
These Achives and their shore-hal'd fleet. Let us then render place
To sacred Night, our suppers dresse, and from our chariot free
Our faire-man'd horse and meate them well: then let there convoid be
From forth the citie presently Oxen and well-fed sheepe,
Sweet wine and bread; and fell much wood, that all night we may keepe
Plentie of fires, even till the light bring forth the lovely morne;
And let their brightnesse glase the skies, that night may not suborne
The Greeks' escape, if they for flight the seas' brode backe would take.
At least they may not part with ease, but, as retreit they make,
Each man may beare a wound with him to cure when he comes home,
Made with a shaft or sharpned speare; and others feare to come
With charge of lamentable warre, gainst souldiers bred in Troy.
Then let our Heralds through the towne their offices imploy,
To warne the youth yet short of warre and time-white fathers, past,
That in our god-built towres they see strong courts of guard be plac't
About the wals: and let our Dames yet flourishing in yeares,
That (having beauties to keepe pure) are most inclin'd to feares
(Since darknesse in distressefull times more dreadfull is than light),
Make loftie fires in every house: and thus, the dangerous night
Held with strong watch, if th' enemie have ambuscadoes laid
Neare to our wals (and therefore seeme in flight the more dismaid,
Intending a surprise while we are all without the towne),
They every way shall be impugn'd, to every man's renowne.
Performe all this, brave Troyan friends: what now I have to say
Is all exprest: the chearfull morne shall other things display.
It is my glorie (putting trust in Jove and other Gods)
That I shall now expulse these dogs fates sent to our abodes:
Who bring ostents of destinie and blacke their threatning fleet.
But this night let us hold strong guards: tomorrow we will meet
(With fierce-made warre) before their ships, and I'le make knowne to all
If strong Tydides from their ships can drive me to their wall
Or I can pierce him with my sword and force his bloudy spoile.
The wished morne shall shew his powre, if he can shun his foile,
I running on him with my Lance. I thinke when day ascends
He shall lie wounded with the first and by him many friends.
O that I were as sure to live immortall and sustaine
No frailties with increasing yeares but evermore remaine
Ador'd like Pallas or the Sunne, as all doubts die in me
That heaven's next light shall be the last the Greekes shall ever see!’
This speech all Troyans did applaud, who from their traces losde
Their sweating horse, which severally with headstals they reposde
And fastned by their chariots; when others brought from towne
Fat sheepe and oxen instantly, bread, wine, and hewed downe
Huge store of wood. The winds transferd into the friendly skie
Their supper's savour, to the which they sate delightfully
And spent all night in open field. Fires round about them shinde.
As when about the silver Moone, when aire is free from winde
And stars shine cleare, to whose sweete Beames high prospects and the brows
Of all steepe hils and pinnacles thrust up themselves for showes
And even the lowly vallies joy to glitter in their sight,
When the unmeasur'd firmament bursts to disclose her light
And all the signes in heaven are seene that glad the shepheard's hart;
So many fires disclosde their beames, made by the Troyan part,
Before the face of Ilion and her bright turrets show'd.
A thousand courts of guard kept fires, and every guard allow'd
Fiftie stout men, by whom their horse eate oates and hard white corne,
And all did wishfully expect the silver-throned morne.