ARGUMENT.(231)
JUNO
DECEIVES JUPITER BY THE GIRDLE OF VENUS.
Nestor, sitting at the table with Machaon, is alarmed with
the increasing
clamour of war, and hastens to Agamemnon; on his way he
meets that prince
with Diomed and Ulysses, whom he informs of the extremity of
the danger.
Agamemnon proposes to make their escape by night, which
Ulysses
withstands; to which Diomed adds his advice, that, wounded
as they were,
they should go forth and encourage the army with their
presence, which
advice is pursued. Juno, seeing the partiality of Jupiter to
the Trojans,
forms a design to over-reach him: she sets off her charms
with the utmost
care, and (the more surely to enchant him) obtains the magic
girdle of
Venus. She then applies herself to the god of sleep, and,
with some
difficulty, persuades him to seal the eyes of Jupiter: this
done, she goes
to mount Ida, where the god, at first sight, is ravished
with her beauty,
sinks in her embraces, and is laid asleep. Neptune takes
advantage of his
slumber, and succours the Greeks: Hector is struck to the
ground with a
prodigious stone by Ajax, and carried off from the battle:
several actions
succeed, till the Trojans, much distressed, are obliged to
give way: the
lesser Ajax signalizes himself in a particular manner.
But not the genial
feast, nor flowing bowl,
Could charm the
cares of Nestor's watchful soul;
His startled ears
the increasing cries attend;
Then thus,
impatient, to his wounded friend:
"What new
alarm, divine Machaon, say,
What mix'd events
attend this mighty day?
Hark! how the shouts
divide, and how they meet,
And now come full,
and thicken to the fleet!
Here with the
cordial draught dispel thy care,
Let Hecamede the strengthening
bath prepare,
Refresh thy wound,
and cleanse the clotted gore;
While I the
adventures of the day explore."
He said: and,
seizing Thrasymedes' shield,
(His valiant
offspring,) hasten'd to the field;
(That day the son
his father's buckler bore;)
Then snatch'd a
lance, and issued from the door.
Soon as the prospect
open'd to his view,
His wounded eyes the
scene of sorrow knew;
Dire disarray! the
tumult of the fight,
The wall in ruins,
and the Greeks in flight.
As when old ocean's
silent surface sleeps,
The waves just
heaving on the purple deeps:
While yet the
expected tempest hangs on high,
Weighs down the
cloud, and blackens in the sky,
The mass of waters
will no wind obey;
Jove sends one gust,
and bids them roll away.
While wavering
counsels thus his mind engage,
Fluctuates in
doubtful thought the Pylian sage,
To join the host, or
to the general haste;
Debating long, he
fixes on the last:
Yet, as he moves,
the sight his bosom warms,
The field rings
dreadful with the clang of arms,
The gleaming
falchions flash, the javelins fly;
Blows echo blows,
and all or kill or die.
Him, in his march,
the wounded princes meet,
By tardy steps
ascending from the fleet:
The king of men,
Ulysses the divine,
And who to Tydeus
owes his noble line.(232)
(Their ships at
distance from the battle stand,
In lines advanced
along the shelving strand:
Whose bay, the fleet
unable to contain
At length; beside
the margin of the main,
Rank above rank, the
crowded ships they moor:
Who landed first,
lay highest on the shore.)
Supported on the
spears, they took their way,
Unfit to fight, but
anxious for the day.
Nestor's approach
alarm'd each Grecian breast,
Whom thus the
general of the host address'd:
"O grace and
glory of the Achaian name;
What drives thee,
Nestor, from the field of fame?
Shall then proud
Hector see his boast fulfill'd,
Our fleets in ashes,
and our heroes kill'd?
Such was his threat,
ah! now too soon made good,
On many a Grecian
bosom writ in blood.
Is every heart
inflamed with equal rage
Against your king,
nor will one chief engage?
And have I lived to
see with mournful eyes
In every Greek a new
Achilles rise?"
Gerenian Nestor
then: "So fate has will'd;
And all-confirming
time has fate fulfill'd.
Not he that thunders
from the aerial bower,
Not Jove himself,
upon the past has power.
The wall, our late
inviolable bound,
And best defence,
lies smoking on the ground:
Even to the ships
their conquering arms extend,
And groans of
slaughter'd Greeks to heaven ascend.
On speedy measures
then employ your thought
In such distress! if
counsel profit aught:
Arms cannot much:
though Mars our souls incite,
These gaping wounds
withhold us from the fight."
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 smoking 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 confess'd;
Now heaven averse,
our hands from battle 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 timorous heart?
Oh were thy sway the
curse of meaner powers,
And thou the shame
of any host but ours!
A host, by Jove
endued with martial might,
And taught to
conquer, or to fall in fight:
Adventurous 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 even
from him whose sovereign sway
The banded legions
of all Greece obey?
Is this a general's
voice that calls to flight,
While war hangs
doubtful, while his soldiers fight?
What more could
Troy? What yet their fate denies
Thou givest the foe:
all Greece becomes their prize.
No more the troops
(our hoisted sails in view,
Themselves
abandon'd) shall the fight pursue;
But thy ships
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,
Aught, 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 though 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 honoured 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 generous Prothous bless'd,
Who Pleuron's walls
and Calydon possess'd;
Melas and Agrius,
but (who far surpass'd
The rest in courage)
OEneus was the last.
From him, my sire.
From Calydon expell'd,
He pass'd 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 numerous 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.
Though sore of
battle, though with wounds oppress'd,
Let each go forth,
and animate the rest,
Advance the glory
which he cannot share,
Though not partaker,
witness of the war.
But lest new wounds
on wounds o'erpower us quite,
Beyond the missile
javelin's sounding flight,
Safe let us stand;
and, from the tumult far,
Inspire the ranks,
and rule the distant war."
He added not: the
listening kings obey,
Slow moving on;
Atrides leads the way.
The god of ocean (to
inflame their rage)
Appears a warrior
furrowed o'er with age;
Press'd in his own,
the general'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 Heaven forsakes
not thee: o'er yonder sands
Soon shall thou view
the scattered Trojan bands
Fly diverse; while
proud kings, and chiefs renown'd,
Driven heaps on
heaps, with clouds involved around
Of rolling dust,
their winged wheels employ
To hide their
ignominious heads in Troy."
He spoke, then
rush'd amid the warrior crew,
And sent his voice
before him as he flew,
Loud, as the shout
encountering armies yield
When twice ten
thousand shake the labouring field;
Such was the voice,
and such the thundering sound
Of him whose trident
rends the solid ground.
Each Argive bosom
beats to meet the fight,
And grisly war
appears a pleasing sight.
Meantime Saturnia
from Olympus' brow,
High-throned in
gold, beheld the fields below;
With joy the
glorious conflict she survey'd,
Where her great
brother gave the Grecians aid.
But placed 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 power; resolved 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 bower,
Safe from access of
each intruding power.
Touch'd with her
secret key, the doors unfold:
Self-closed, behind
her shut the valves of gold.
Here first she
bathes; and round her body pours
Soft oils of
fragrance, and ambrosial showers:
The winds, perfumed,
the balmy gale convey
Through heaven,
through earth, and all the aerial way:
Spirit divine! whose
exhalation greets
The sense of gods
with more than mortal sweets.
Thus while she
breathed of heaven, with decent pride
Her artful hands the
radiant tresses tied;
Part on her head in
shining ringlets roll'd,
Part o'er her
shoulders waved like melted gold.
Around her next a
heavenly 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 gem illumined
with a triple star.
Then o'er her head
she cast a veil more white
Than new-fallen
snow, and dazzling as the light.
Last her fair feet
celestial sandals grace.
Thus issuing radiant
with majestic pace,
Forth from the dome
the imperial goddess moves,
And calls the mother
of the smiles and loves.
"How long (to
Venus thus apart she cried)
Shall human strife
celestial minds divide?
Ah yet, will Venus
aid Saturnia's joy,
And set aside the
cause of Greece and Troy?"
"Let heaven's
dread empress (Cytheraea said)
Speak her request,
and deem her will obey'd."
"Then grant me
(said the queen) those conquering charms,
That power, which
mortals and immortals warms,
That love, which
melts mankind in fierce desires,
And burns the sons
of heaven 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 heaven 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 owed, 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 embraced,(233)
With various skill
and high embroidery graced.
In this was every
art, and every 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 the 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 press'd
The powerful cestus
to her snowy breast.
Then Venus to the
courts of Jove withdrew;
Whilst from Olympus
pleased Saturnia flew.
O'er high Pieria
thence her course she bore,
O'er fair Emathia's
ever-pleasing shore,
O'er Hemus' 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 rolling deep,
And seeks the cave
of Death's half-brother, Sleep.(234)
"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 power 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 power 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
venturous, at thy bold command,
On those eternal
lids I laid my hand;
What time, deserting
Ilion's wasted plain,
His conquering son,
Alcides, plough'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 heaven,) her wings display'd;
Impower'd the wrath
of gods and men to tame,
Even Jove revered
the venerable dame."
"Vain are thy
fears (the queen of heaven replies,
And, speaking, rolls
her large majestic eyes);
Think'st thou that
Troy has Jove's high favour won,
Like great Alcides,
his all-conquering son?
Hear, and obey the
mistress of the skies,
Nor for the deed
expect a vulgar prize;
For know, thy
loved-one shall be ever thine,
The youngest Grace,
Pasithae the divine."(235)
"Swear then (he
said) by those tremendous floods
That roar through
hell, and bind the 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
loved-one, shall be ever mine,
The youngest Grace,
Pasithae the divine."
The queen assents,
and from the infernal bowers
Invokes the sable
subtartarean powers,
And those who rule
the inviolable floods,
Whom mortals name
the dread Titanian gods.
Then swift as wind,
o'er Lemnos' smoky isle
They wing their way,
and Imbrus' sea-beat soil;
Through air, unseen,
involved 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 neighbouring skies;
Dark in embowering
shade, conceal'd from sight,
Sat Sleep, in
likeness of the bird of night.
(Chalcis his name by
those of heavenly 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 lightning
sets the heavens on fire,
Through all his
bosom feels the fierce desire;
Fierce as when first
by stealth he seized 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 the ethereal 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 reverend Ocean
and gray 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
that ancient pair in peace.
The steeds, prepared
my chariot to convey
O'er earth and seas,
and through the aerial way,
Wait under Ide: of
thy superior power
To ask consent, I
leave the Olympian bower;
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 heavenly love:
Not when I press'd
Ixion's matchless dame,
Whence rose
Pirithous like the gods in fame:
Not when fair Danae
felt the shower 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:)
Nor Phoenix'
daughter, beautiful and young,
Whence godlike
Rhadamanth and Minos sprung.(236)
Not thus I burn'd
for fair Latona's face,
Nor comelier Ceres'
more majestic grace.
Not thus even 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,
Exposed to mortal
and immortal sight!
Our joys profaned by
each familiar eye;
The sport of heaven,
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 heaven beholds
me recent from thy arms?
With skill divine has Vulcan form'd thy bower,
Sacred to love and
to the genial hour;
If such thy will, to
that recess retire,
In secret there
indulge thy soft desire."
She ceased; and,
smiling with superior love,
Thus answer'd mild
the cloud-compelling Jove:
"Nor god nor
mortal shall our joys behold,
Shaded with clouds,
and circumfused in gold;
Not even the sun,
who darts through heaven his rays,
And whose broad eye
the 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 flowers:
Thick new-born
violets a soft carpet spread,
And clustering lotos
swell'd the rising bed,
And sudden hyacinths
the turf bestrow,(237)
And flamy crocus
made the mountain glow
There golden clouds
conceal the heavenly pair,
Steep'd in soft joys
and circumfused with air;
Celestial dews,
descending o'er the ground,
Perfume the mount,
and breathe ambrosia round:
At length, with love
and sleep's soft power oppress'd,
The panting
thunderer nods, and sinks to rest.
Now to the navy
borne on silent wings,
To Neptune's ear
soft Sleep his message brings;
Beside him sudden,
unperceived, he stood,
And thus with gentle
words address'd the god:
"Now, Neptune!
now, the 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 closed those
awful and eternal eyes."
Thus having said,
the power of slumber flew,
On human lids to
drop the balmy dew.
Neptune, with zeal
increased, renews his care,
And towering 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 yourselves,
and ye 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 ponderous targe
be wielded by the strong.
Thus arm'd, not
Hector shall our presence stay;
Myself, ye Greeks!
myself will lead the way."
The troops assent;
their martial arms they change:
The busy chiefs
their banded legions range.
The kings, though
wounded, and oppress'd with pain,
With helpful hands
themselves assist the train.
The strong and
cumbrous arms the valiant wield,
The weaker warrior
takes a lighter shield.
Thus sheath'd in
shining brass, in bright array
The legions march,
and Neptune leads the way:
His brandish'd
falchion flames before their eyes,
Like lightning
flashing through the frighted skies.
Clad in his might,
the earth-shaking power appears;
Pale mortals
tremble, and confess their fears.
Troy's great
defender stands alone unawed,
Arms his proud host,
and dares oppose a god:
And lo! the god, and
wondrous man, appear:
The sea's stern
ruler there, and Hector here.
The roaring main, at
her great master's call,
Rose in huge ranks,
and form'd a watery 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 the Æolian hall
Roar through 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 driven,
And such a clamour
shakes the sounding heaven.
The first bold
javelin, urged by Hector's force,
Direct at Ajax'
bosom winged its course;
But there no pass
the crossing belts afford,
(One braced his
shield, and one sustain'd his sword.)
Then back the
disappointed Trojan drew,
And cursed the lance
that unavailing flew:
But 'scaped not
Ajax; his tempestuous hand
A ponderous stone
upheaving from the sand,
(Where heaps laid
loose beneath the warrior's feet,
Or served to
ballast, or to prop the fleet,)
Toss'd round and
round, the missive marble flings;
On the razed shield
the fallen 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 smokes of sulphur rise;
Stiff with amaze the
pale beholders stand,
And own the terrors
of the 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
dropp'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 javelins
intercept the sky.
In vain an iron
tempest hisses round;
He lies protected,
and without a wound.(238)
Polydamas, Agenor
the divine,
The pious warrior of
Anchises' line,
And each bold leader
of the Lycian band,
With covering
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 enamell'd side,
Where gentle Xanthus
rolls his easy tide,
With watery drops
the chief they sprinkle round,
Placed on the margin
of the flowery ground.
Raised 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 javelin sped,
Pierced by whose
point the son of Enops bled;
(Satnius the brave,
whom beauteous Neis bore
Amidst her flocks on
Satnio's silver shore;)
Struck through the
belly's rim, the warrior lies
Supine, and shades
eternal veil his eyes.
An arduous battle
rose around the dead;
By turns the Greeks,
by turns the Trojans bled.
Fired with revenge,
Polydamas drew near,
And at Prothoenor
shook the trembling spear;
The driving javelin
through 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.
Propp'd on that
spear to which thou owest 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 warrior fell,
At the fierce foe he
launch'd his piercing steel;
The foe, reclining,
shunn'd the flying death;
But fate,
Archilochus, demands thy breath:
Thy lofty birth no
succour could impart,
The wings of death
o'ertook thee on the dart;
Swift to perform
heaven'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 on 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 towering Ajax
loud-insulting cries:)
Say, is this chief
extended on the plain
A worthy vengeance
for Prothoenor 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 smiled
severe, for well he knew
The bleeding youth:
Troy sadden'd at the view.
But furious Acamas
avenged his cause;
As Promachus his
slaughtered brother draws,
He pierced his
heart--"Such fate attends you all,
Proud Argives!
destined 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 deprived of breath,
A victim owed to my
brave brother's death.
Not unappeased 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
received the spear;
Ilioneus, his
father's only care:
(Phorbas the rich,
of all the Trojan train
Whom Hermes loved,
and taught the arts of gain:)
Full in his eye the
weapon chanced to fall,
And from the fibres
scoop'd the rooted ball,
Drove through the
neck, and hurl'd him to the plain;
He lifts his
miserable arms in vain!
Swift his broad
falchion fierce Peneleus spread,
And from the
spouting shoulders struck his head;
To earth at once the
head and helmet fly;
The lance, yet
sticking through the bleeding eye,
The victor seized;
and, as aloft he shook
The gory 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 embrued the field?
Of all the Grecians
what immortal name,
And whose bless'd
trophies, will ye raise to fame?
Thou first, great
Ajax! on the unsanguined 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,
Pierced in the flank
by Menelaus' steel,
His people's pastor,
Hyperenor fell;
Eternal darkness
wrapp'd the warrior round,
And the fierce soul
came rushing through 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 chase.
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