Classic Poem

But nor the genial feast, nor flowing bowl,
Could charm the cares of Nestor 's watchful soul;
His startled ears th' encreasing cries attend;
Then thus, impatient, to his wounded friend.
What new alarm, divine Machaon , say,
What mixt events attend this mighty day?
Hark! how the shouts divide, and how they meet,
And now come full, and thicken to the fleet!
Here, with the cordial draught dispel thy care,
Let Hecamede the strength'ning bath prepare,
Refresh thy wound, and cleanse the clotted gore;
While I th' adventures of the day explore.
He said: and seizing Thrasimedes ' shield,
(His valiant offspring) hasten'd to the field;
(That day, the son his father's buckler bore)
Then snatch'd a lance, and issu'd from the door.
Soon as the prospect open'd to his view,
His wounded eyes the scene of sorrow knew;
Dire disarray! the tumult of the fight,
The wall in ruins, and the Greeks in flight.
As when old Ocean's silent surface sleeps,
The waves just heaving on the purple deeps;
While yet th' expected tempest hangs on high,
Weighs down the cloud, and blackens in the sky,
The mass of waters will no wind obey;
Jove sends one gust, and bids them roll away.
While wav'ring counsels thus his mind engage,
Fluctuates, in doubtful thought, the Pylian sage;
To join the host, or to the Gen'ral haste,
Debating long, he fixes on the last:
Yet, as he moves, the fight his bosom warms;
The field rings dreadful with the clang of arms;
The gleaming faulchions flash, the jav'lins fly;
Blows echo blows, and all or kill, or die.
Him, in his march, the wounded Princes meet,
By tardy steps ascending from the fleet.
The King of men, Ulysses the divine,
And who to Tydeus owes his noble line.
(Their ships at distance from the battel stand,
In lines advanc'd along the shelving strand;
Whose bay, the fleet unable to contain
At length, beside the margin of the main,
Rank above rank, the crowded ships they moor;
Who landed first lay highest on the shore.)
Supported on their spears, they took their way,
Unfit to fight, but anxious for the day.
Nestor 's approach alarm'd each Grecian breast,
Whom thus the Gen'ral of the host addrest.
O grace and glory of th' Achaian name!
What drives thee, Nestor , from the field of fame?
Shall then proud Hector see his boast fulfill'd,
Our fleets in ashes, and our heroes kill'd?
Such was his threat, ah now too soon made good,
On many a Grecian bosom writ in blood.
Is ev'ry heart inflam'd with equal rage
Against your King, nor will one chief engage?
And have I liv'd to see with mournful eyes
In ev'ry Greek a new Achilles rise?
Gerenian Nestor then. So Fate has will'd;
And all-confirming Time has Fate fulfill'd.
Not he that thunders from th' airial bow'r,
Not Jove himself, upon the past has pow'r.
The wall, our late inviolable bound,
And best defence, lies smoaking on the ground:
Ev'n to the ships their conqu'ring arms extend,
And groans of slaughter'd Greeks to heav'n ascend.
On speedy measures then employ your thought;
In such distress if counsel profit ought;
Arms cannot much: Tho' Mars our souls incite,
These gaping wounds withhold us from the fight.
To him the Monarch. That our army bends,
That Troy triumphant our high fleet ascends,
And that the rampart, late our surest trust,
And best defence, lies smoaking in the dust:
All this from Jove 's afflictive hand we bear,
Who, far from Argos , wills our ruin here.
Past are the days when happier Greece was blest,
And all his favour, all his aid confest;
Now heav'n averse, our hands from battel ties,
And lifts the Trojan glory to the skies.
Cease we at length to waste our blood in vain,
And launch what ships lie nearest to the main;
Leave these at anchor till the coming night:
Then if impetuous Troy forbear the fight,
Bring all to sea, and hoist each sail for flight.
Better from evils, well foreseen, to run,
Than perish in the danger we may shun.
Thus he. The sage Ulysses thus replies,
While anger flash'd from his disdainful eyes.
What shameful words (unkingly as thou art)
Fall from that trembling tongue, and tim'rous heart?
Oh were thy sway the curse of meaner pow'rs,
And thou the shame of any host but ours!
A Host, by Jove endu'd with martial might,
And taught to conquer, or to fall in fight:
Advent'rous combats and bold wars to wage,
Employ'd our youth, and yet employs our age.
And wilt thou thus desert the Trojan plain?
And have whole streams of blood been spilt in vain?
In such base sentence if thou couch thy fear,
Speak it in whispers, lest a Greek should hear.
Lives there a man so dead to fame, who dares
To think such meanness, or the thought declares?
And comes it ev'n from him whose sov'reign sway
The banded legions of all Greece obey?
Is this a Gen'ral's voice, that calls to flight,
While war hangs doubtful, while his soldiers fight?
What more could Troy ? What yet their fate denies
Thou giv'st the foe: all Greece becomes their prize.
No more the troops, (our hoisted sails in view,
Themselves abandon'd) shall the fight pursue,
Thy ships first flying with despair shall see,
And owe destruction to a Prince like thee.
Thy just reproofs ( Atrides calm replies)
Like arrows pierce me, for thy words are wise.
Unwilling as I am to lose the host,
I force not Greece to quit this hateful coast.
Glad I submit, whoe'er, or young or old,
Ought, more conducive to our weal, unfold.
Tydides cut him short, and thus began.
Such counsel if you seek, behold the man
Who boldly gives it, and what he shall say,
Young tho' he be, disdain not to obey:
A youth, who from the mighty Tydeus springs,
May speak to councils and assembled Kings.
Hear then in me the great Oenides ' son,
Whose honour'd dust (his race of glory run)
Lies whelm'd in ruins of the Theban wall,
Brave in his life, and glorious in his fall.
With three bold sons was gen'rous Prothous blest,
Who Pleuron 's walls and Calydon possest;
Melas and Agrius , but (who surpast
The rest in courage) Oeneus was the last.
From him, my sire. From Calydon expell'd,
He past to Argos , and in exile dwell'd;
The monarch's daughter there (so Jove ordain'd)
He won, and flourish'd where Adrastus reign'd;
There rich in fortune's gifts, his acres till'd,
Beheld his vines their liquid harvest yield,
And num'rous flocks that whiten'd all the field.
Such Tydeus was, the foremost once in fame!
Nor lives in Greece a stranger to his name.
Then, what for common good my thoughts inspire,
Attend, and in the son, respect the sire.
Tho' fore of battel, tho' with wounds opprest,
Let each go forth, and animate the rest,
Advance the glory which he cannot share,
Tho' not partaker, witness of the war.
But lest new wounds on wounds o'erpower us quite,
Beyond the missile jav'lin's sounding flight,
Safe let us stand; and from the tumult far,
Inspire the ranks, and rule the distant war.
He added not: The list'ning Kings obey,
Slow moving on; Atrides leads the way.
The God of ocean (to inflame their rage)
Appears a warriour furrow'd o'er with age;
Prest in his own, the Gen'ral's hand he took,
And thus the venerable hero spoke.
Atrides , lo! with what disdainful eye
Achilles sees his country's forces fly;
Blind impious man! whose anger is his guide,
Who glories in unutterable pride!
So may he perish, so may Jove disclaim
The wretch relentless, and o'erwhelm with shame!
But heav'n forsakes not thee: O'er yonder sands
Soon shalt thou view the scatter'd Trojan bands
Fly diverse; while proud Kings, and Chiefs renown'd,
Driv'n heaps on heaps, with clouds involv'd around
Of rolling dust, their winged wheels employ
To hide their ignominious heads in Troy .
He spoke, then rush'd amid the warriour crew;
And sent his voice before him as he flew,
Loud, as the shout encountring armies yield,
When twice ten thousand shake the lab'ring field;
Such was the voice, and such the thund'ring sound
Of him, whose trident rends the solid ground.
Each Argive bosom beats to meet the fight,
And grizly war appears a pleasing sight.
Meantime Saturnia from Olympus ' brow,
High-thron'd in gold, beheld the fields below;
With joy the glorious conflict she survey'd,
Where her great brother gave the Grecians aid.
But plac'd aloft, on Ida 's shady height
She sees her Jove , and trembles at the sight.
Jove to deceive, what methods shall she try,
What arts, to blind his all-beholding eye?
At length she trusts her pow'r; resolv'd to prove
" The old, yet still successful, cheat of love":
Against his wisdom to oppose her charms,
And lull the Lord of Thunders in her arms.
Swift to her bright apartment she repairs,
Sacred to dress, and beauty's pleasing cares:
With skill divine had Vulcan form'd the bow'r,
Safe from access of each intruding pow'r.
Touch'd with her secret key, the doors unfold:
Self-clos'd behind her shut the valves of gold.
Here first she bathes; and round her body pours
Soft oils of fragrance, and ambrosial show'rs:
The winds perfum'd, the balmy gale convey
Thro' heav'n, thro' earth, and all th' airial way:
Spirit divine! whose exhalation greets
The sense of Gods with more than mortal sweets.
Thus while she breath'd of heav'n, with decent pride
Her artful hands the radiant tresses ty'd;
Part on her head in shining ringlets roll'd,
Part o'er her shoulders wav'd like melted gold.
Around her next a heav'nly mantle flow'd,
That rich with Pallas ' labour'd colours glow'd;
Large clasps of gold the foldings gather'd round,
A golden zone her swelling bosom bound.
Far-beaming pendants tremble in her ear,
Each gemm illumin'd with a triple star.
Then o'er her head she casts a veil more white
Then new fal'n snow, and dazling as the light.
Last her fair feet celestial sandals grace.
Thus issuing radiant, with majestic pace,
Forth from the dome th' imperial Goddess moves,
And calls the Mother of the Smiles and Loves .
How long (to Venus thus apart she cry'd)
Shall human strifes celestial minds divide?
Ah yet, will Venus aid Saturnia 's joy,
And set aside the cause of Greece and Troy ?
Let heav'n's dread empress ( Cytheraea said)
Speak her request, and deem her will obey'd.
Then grant me (said the Queen) those conqu'ring charms,
That pow'r, which mortals and immortals warms,
That love, which melts mankind in fierce desires,
And burns the sons of heav'n with sacred fires!
For lo! I haste to those remote abodes,
Where the great parents (sacred source of Gods!)
Ocean and Tethys their old empire keep,
On the last limits of the land and deep.
In their kind arms my tender years were past;
What-time old Saturn , from Olympus cast,
Of upper heav'n to Jove resign'd the reign,
Whelm'd under the huge mass of earth and main.
For strife, I hear, has made the union cease,
Which held so long that ancient pair in peace.
What honour, and what love shall I obtain,
If I compose those fatal feuds again?
Once more their minds in mutual ties engage,
And what my youth has ow'd, repay their age.
She said. With awe divine the Queen of Love
Obey'd the sister and the wife of Jove :
And from her fragrant breast the zone unbrac'd,
With various skill and high embroid'ry grac'd.
In this was ev'ry art, and ev'ry charm,
To win the wisest, and the coldest warm:
Fond love, the gentle vow, the gay desire,
The kind deceit, the still-reviving fire,
Persuasive speech, and more persuasive sighs,
Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes.
This on her hand the Cyprian Goddess laid;
Take this, and with it all thy wish, she said:
With smiles she took the charm; and smiling prest
The pow'rful Cestus to her snowy breast.
Then Venus to the courts of Jove withdrew;
Whilst from Olympus pleas'd Saturnia flew.
O'er high Pieria thence her course she bore,
O'er fair Emathia 's ever pleasing shore,
O'er Haemus ' hills with snows eternal crown'd;
Nor once her flying foot approach'd the ground.
Then taking wing from Athos ' lofty steep,
She speeds to Lemnos o'er the rowling deep,
And seeks the cave of Death's half-brother, Sleep .
Sweet pleasing Sleep! ( Saturnia thus began)
Who spread'st thy empire o'er each God and man;
If e'er obsequious to thy Juno 's will,
O Pow'r of Slumbers! hear, and favour still.
Shed thy soft dews on Jove 's immortal eyes,
While sunk in love's entrancing joys he lies.
A splendid footstool, and a throne, that shine
With gold unfading, Somnus , shall be thine;
The work of Vulcan ; to indulge thy ease,
When wine and feasts thy golden humours please.
Imperial Dame (the balmy pow'r replies)
Great Saturn 's heir, and empress of the skies!
O'er other Gods I spread my easy chain;
The Sire of all, old Ocean , owns my reign,
And his hush'd waves lie silent on the main.
But how, unbidden, shall I dare to steep
Jove 's awful temples in the dew of sleep?
Long since too vent'rous, at thy bold command,
On those eternal lids I laid my hand;
What-time, deserting Ilion 's wasted plain,
His conqu'ring son, Alcides , plow'd the main:
When lo! the deeps arise, the tempests roar,
And drive the hero to the Coan shore:
Great Jove awaking, shook the blest abodes
With rising wrath, and tumbled Gods on Gods;
Me chief he sought, and from the realms on high
Had hurl'd indignant to the nether sky,
But gentle Night , to whom I fled for aid,
(The friend of earth and heav'n) her wings display'd;
Impow'r'd the wrath of Gods and men to tame,
Ev'n Jove rever'd the venerable dame.
Vain are thy fears (the Queen of heav'n replies,
And speaking, rolls her large, majestic eyes)
Think'st thou that Troy has Jove 's high favour won,
Like great Alcides , his all-conqu'ring son?
Hear, and obey the mistress of the skies,
Nor for the deed expect a vulgar prize;
For know, thy lov'd-one shall be ever thine,
The youngest Grace, Pasithai the divine.
Swear then (he said) by those tremendous floods
That roar thro' hell, and bind th' invoking Gods:
Let the great parent Earth one hand sustain,
And stretch the other o'er the sacred main.
Call the black Titans that with Chronos dwell,
To hear, and witness from the depths of hell;
That she, my lov'd one, shall be ever mine,
The youngest Grace, Pasithai the divine.
The Queen assents, and from th' infernal bow'rs
Invokes the sable subtartarean pow'rs,
And those who rule th' inviolable floods,
Whom mortals name the dread Titanian Gods.
Then swift as wind, o'er Lemnos smoaky isle,
They wing their way, and Imbrus ' sea-beat soil,
Thro' air unseen involv'd in darkness glide,
And light on Lectos , on the point of Ide .
(Mother of savages, whose echoing hills
Are heard resounding with a hundred rills)
Fair Ida trembles underneath the God;
Hush'd are her mountains, and her forests nod.
There on a fir, whose spiry branches rise
To join its summit to the neighb'ring skies,
Dark in embow'ring shade, conceal'd from sight,
Sate Sleep , in likeness of the bird of night.
( Chalcis his name with those of heav'nly birth,
But call'd Cymindis by the race of earth.)
To Ida 's top successful Juno flies;
Great Jove surveys her with desiring eyes:
The God, whose light'ning sets the heav'ns on fire,
Thro' all his bosom feels the fierce desire;
Fierce as when first by stealth he seiz'd her charms,
Mix'd with her soul, and melted in her arms.
Fix'd on her eyes he fed his eager look,
Then press'd her hand, and thus with transport spoke.
Why comes my Goddess from th' aethereal sky,
And not her steeds and flaming chariot nigh?
Then she — I haste to those remote abodes,
Where the great parents of the deathless Gods,
The rev'rend Ocean and grey Tethys reign,
On the last limits of the land and main.
I visit these, to whose indulgent cares
I owe the nursing of my tender years.
For strife, I hear, has made that union cease,
Which held so long this ancient pair in peace.
The steeds, prepar'd my chariot to convey
O'er earth and seas, and thro' th' airial way,
Wait under Ide : Of thy superiour pow'r
To ask consent, I leave th' Olympian bow'r;
Nor seek, unknown to thee, the sacred cells
Deep under seas, where hoary Ocean dwells.
For that (said Jove ) suffice another day;
But eager love denies the least delay.
Let softer cares the present hour employ,
And be these moments sacred all to joy.
Ne'er did my soul so strong a passion prove,
Or for an earthly, or a heav'nly love:
Not when I press'd Ixion 's matchless dame,
Whence rose Perithous like the Gods in fame.
Not when fair Danai felt the show'r of gold
Stream into life, whence Perseus brave and bold.
Not thus I burn'd for either Theban dame,
( Bacchus from this, from that Alcides came).
Not Phaenix ' daughter, beautiful and young,
Whence godlike Rhadamanth and Minos sprung.
Not thus I burn'd for fair Latona 's face,
Nor comelier Ceres ' more majestick grace.
Not thus ev'n for thyself I felt desire,
As now my veins receive the pleasing fire.
He spoke; the Goddess with the charming eyes
Glows with celestial red, and thus replies.
Is this a scene for love? On Ida 's height,
Expos'd to mortal, and immortal sight;
Our joys prophan'd by each familiar eye;
The sport of heav'n, and fable of the sky!
How shall I e'er review the blest abodes,
Or mix among the senate of the Gods?
Shall I not think, that, with disorder'd charms,
All heav'n beholds me recent from thy arms?
With skill divine has Vulcan form'd thy bow'r,
Sacred to love and to the genial hour;
If such thy will, to that recess retire,
And secret there indulge thy soft desire.
She ceas'd, and smiling with superiour love,
Thus answer'd mild the cloud-compelling Jove .
Nor God, nor mortal shall our joys behold,
Shaded with clouds, and circumfus'd in gold,
Not ev'n the sun, who darts thro' heav'n his rays,
And whose broad eye th' extended earth surveys.
Gazing he spoke, and kindling at the view,
His eager arms around the Goddess threw.
Glad earth perceives, and from her bosom pours
Unbidden herbs, and voluntary flow'rs;
Thick new-born vi'lets a soft carpet spread,
And clust'ring Lotos swell'd the rising bed,
And sudden hyacinths the turf bestrow,
And flamy Crocus made the mountain glow.
There golden clouds conceal the heav'nly pair,
Steep'd in soft joys, and circumfus'd with air;
Celestial dews, descending o'er the ground,
Perfume the mount, and breathe Ambrosia round.
At length with love and sleep's soft pow'r opprest,
The panting Thund'rer nods, and sinks to rest.
Now to the navy born on silent wings,
To Neptune 's ear soft Sleep his message brings;
Beside him sudden, unperceiv'd he stood,
And thus with gentle words address'd the God.
Now, Neptune! now, th' important hour employ,
To check a while the haughty hopes of Troy :
While Jove yet rests, while yet my vapours shed
The golden vision round his sacred head;
For Juno 's love, and Somnus ' pleasing ties,
Have clos'd those awful and eternal eyes.
Thus having said, the pow'r of slumber flew,
On human lids to drop the balmy dew.
Neptune , with zeal encreas'd, renews his care,
And tow'ring in the foremost ranks of war,
Indignant thus — Oh once of martial fame!
O Greeks! if yet ye can deserve the name!
This half-recover'd day shall Troy obtain?
Shall Hector thunder at your ships again?
Lo still he vaunts, and threats the fleet with fires,
While stern Achilles in his wrath retires.
One hero's loss too tamely you deplore,
Be still your selves, and we shall need no more.
Oh yet, if glory any bosom warms,
Brace on your firmest helms, and stand to arms:
His strongest spear each valiant Grecian wield,
Each valiant Grecian seize his broadest shield;
Let, to the weak, the lighter arms belong,
The pond'rous targe be wielded by the strong.
(Thus arm'd) not Hector shall our presence stay;
My self, ye Greeks! my self will lead the way.
The troops assent; their martial arms they change,
The busy chiefs their banded legions range.
The Kings, tho' wounded, and oppress'd with pain,
With helpful hands themselves assist the train.
The strong and cumb'rous arms the valiant wield,
The weaker warriour takes a lighter shield.
Thus sheath'd in shining brass, in bright array,
The legions march, and Neptune leads the way:
His brandish'd faulchion flames before their eyes,
Like light'ning flashing thro' the frighted skies.
Clad in his might th' earth-shaking pow'r appears;
Pale mortals tremble, and confess their fears.
Troy 's great defender stands alone unaw'd,
Arms his proud host, and dares oppose a God:
And lo! the God, and wond'rous man appear;
The sea's great ruler there, and Hector here.
The roaring main, at her great master's call,
Rose in huge ranks, and form'd a watry wall
Around the ships: Seas hanging o'er the shores,
Both armies join: Earth thunders, Ocean roars.
Not half so loud the bellowing deeps resound,
When stormy winds disclose the dark profound;
Less loud the winds, that from th' Æolian hall
Roar thro' the woods, and make whole forests fall;
Less loud the woods, when flames in torrents pour,
Catch the dry mountain, and its shades devour.
With such a rage the meeting hosts are driv'n,
And such a clamour shakes the sounding heav'n.
The first bold jav'lin urg'd by Hector 's force,
Direct at Ajax ' bosom wing'd its course;
But there no pass the crossing belts afford,
(One brac'd his shield, and one sustain'd his sword.)
Then back the disappointed Trojan drew,
And curs'd the lance that unavailing flew:
But scap'd not Ajax ; his tempestuous hand
A pond'rous stone up-heaving from the sand,
(Where heaps lay'd loose beneath the warriour's feet,
Or serv'd to ballast, or to prop the fleet)
Toss'd round and round, the missive marble flings;
On the raz'd shield the falling ruin rings:
Full on his breast and throat with force descends;
Nor deaden'd there its giddy fury spends,
But whirling on, with many a fiery round,
Smokes in the dust, and ploughs into the ground.
As when the bolt, red-hissing from above,
Darts on the consecrated plant of Jove ,
The mountain-oak in flaming ruin lies,
Black from the blow, and smoaks of sulphur rise;
Stiff with amaze the pale beholders stand,
And own the terrours of th' almighty hand!
So lies great Hector prostrate on the shore;
His slacken'd hand deserts the lance it bore;
His following shield the fallen chief o'erspread;
Beneath his helmet drop'd his fainting head;
His load of armour, sinking to the ground,
Clanks on the field; a dead, and hollow sound.
Loud Shouts of triumph fill the crowded plain;
Greece sees, in hope, Troy 's great defender slain:
All spring to seize him; storms of arrows fly;
And thicker jav'lins intercept the sky.
In vain an iron tempest hisses round;
He lies protected, and without a wound.
Polydamas, Agenor the divine,
The pious warriour of Anchises ' line,
And each bold leader of the Lycian band;
With cov'ring shields (a friendly circle) stand.
His mournful followers, with assistant care,
The groaning hero to his chariot bear;
His foaming coursers, swifter than the wind,
Speed to the town, and leave the war behind.
When now they touch'd the mead's enamel'd side,
Where gentle Xanthus rolls his easy tyde,
With watry drops the chief they sprinkle round,
Plac'd on the margin of the flow'ry ground.
Rais'd on his knees, he now ejects the gore;
Now faints anew, low-sinking on the shore;
By fits he breathes, half views the fleeting skies,
And seals again, by fits, his swimming eyes.
Soon as the Greeks the chief's retreat beheld,
With double fury each invades the field.
Oilean Ajax first his jav'lin sped,
Pierc'd by whose point, the son of Enops bled;
( Satnius the brave, whom beauteous Neis bore
Amidst her flocks on Satnio 's silver shore)
Struck thro' the belly's rim, the warriour lies
Supine, and shades eternal veil his eyes.
An arduous battel rose around the dead;
By turns the Greeks , by turns the Trojans bled.
Fir'd with revenge, Polydamas drew near,
And at Prothaenor shook the trembling spear;
The driving jav'lin thro' his shoulder thrust,
He sinks to earth, and grasps the bloody dust.
Lo thus (the victor cries) we rule the field,
And thus their arms the race of Panthus wield:
From this unerring hand there flies no dart
But bathes its point within a Grecian heart.
Propt on that spear to which thou ow'st thy fall,
Go, guide thy darksome steps, to Pluto 's dreary hall!
He said, and sorrow touch'd each Argive breast:
The soul of Ajax burn'd above the rest.
As by his side the groaning warriour fell,
At the fierce foe he launch'd his piercing steel;
The foe reclining, shunn'd the flying death;
But fate, Archelochus , demands thy breath:
Thy lofty birth no succour could impart,
The wings of death o'ertook thee on the dart,
Swift to perform heav'n's fatal will it fled,
Full on the juncture of the neck and head,
And took the joint, and cut the nerves in twain:
The dropping head first tumbled to the plain.
So just the stroke, that yet the body stood
Erect, then roll'd along the sands in blood.
Here, proud Polydamas , here turn thy eyes!
(The tow'ring Ajax loud-insulting cries)
Say, is this chief extended on the plain,
A worthy vengeance for Prothaenor slain?
Mark well his port! his figure and his face
Nor speak him vulgar, nor of vulgar race;
Some lines, methinks, may make his lineage known,
Antenor 's brother, or perhaps his son.
He spake, and smil'd severe, for well he knew
The bleeding youth: Troy sadden'd at the view.
But furious Acâmas aveng'd his cause;
As Promachus his slaughter'd brother draws,
He pierc'd his heart — Such fate attends you all,
Proud Argives! destin'd by our arms to fall.
Not Troy alone, but haughty Greece shall share
The toils, the sorrows, and the wounds of war.
Behold your Promachus depriv'd of breath,
A victim ow'd to my brave brother's death.
Not unappeas'd, he enters Pluto 's gate,
Who leaves a brother to revenge his fate.
Heart-piercing anguish struck the Grecian host,
But touch'd the breast of bold Peneleus most:
At the proud boaster he directs his course;
The boaster flies, and shuns superior force.
But young Ilioneus receiv'd the spear,
Ilioneus , his father's only care:
( Phorbas the rich, of all the Trojan train
Whom Hermes lov'd, and taught the arts of gain)
Full in his eye the weapon chanc'd to fall,
And from the fibres scoop'd the rooted ball,
Drove thro' the neck, and hurl'd him to the plain;
He lifts his miserable arms in vain!
Swift his broad faulchion fierce Peneleus spread,
And from the spouting shoulders struck his head;
To earth at once the head and helmet fly;
The lance, yet sticking thro' the bleeding eye,
The victor seiz'd; and as aloft he shook
The goary visage, thus insulting spoke.
Trojans! your great Ilioneus behold!
Haste, to his father let the tale be told:
Let his high roofs resound with frantic woe,
Such, as the house of Promachus must know;
Let doleful tidings greet his mother's ear,
Such, as to Promachus ' sad spouse we bear;
When we, victorious, shall to Greece return,
And the pale matron in our triumphs mourn.
Dreadful he spoke, then toss'd the head on high;
The Trojans hear, they tremble, and they fly:
Aghast they gaze around the fleet and wall,
And dread the ruin that impends on all.
Daughters of Jove! that on Olympus shine,
Ye all-beholding, all-recording nine!
O say, when Neptune made proud Ilion yield,
What chief, what hero first embru'd the field?
Of all the Grecians , what immortal name,
And whose blest trophies, will ye raise to fame?
Thou first, great Ajax! on th' ensanguin'd plain
Laid Hyrtius , leader of the Mysian train.
Phalces and Mermer, Nestor 's son o'erthrew.
Bold Merion, Morys and Hippotion slew.
Strong Periphaetes and Prothoon bled,
By Teucer 's arrows mingled with the dead.
Pierc'd in the flank by Menelaüs ' steel,
His people's pastor, Hyperenor fell;
Eternal darkness wrapt the warriour round,
And the fierce soul came rushing thro' the wound.
But stretch'd in heaps before Oileus ' son,
Fall mighty numbers; mighty numbers run;
Ajax the less, of all the Grecian race
Skill'd in pursuit, and swiftest in the chace.