Below, fair Ilion's glittering fpires were feen,
The crowded fhips, and fable feas between.
There, from the crystal chambers of the main 25
Emerg'd, he fate; and mourn'd his Argives flain.
At Jove incens'd, with grief and fury ftung,
Prone down the rocky fteep he ruth'd along;
Fierce as he paft, the lofty mountains nod,
The foreft shakes! earth trembled as he trod, 30
And felt the footsteps of th' immortal God.
From realm to realm three ample ftrides he took,
And, at the fourth, the diftant Ege shook.
Far in the bay his fhining palace ftands,
Eternal frame! not rais'd by mortal hands:
This having reach'd, his brafs-hoof'd fteeds he
reins,
Fleet as the winds, and deck'd with golden manes.
Refulgent arms his mighty limbs infold,
Immortal arms of adamant and gold.
He mounts the car, the golden fcourge applies, 40
He fits fuperior, and the chariot flies:
His whirling wheels the glaffy furface sweep;
Th' enormous monfters, rolling o'er the deep,
Gambol around him on the watery way;
And heavy whales in aukward measures play: 45
The fea fubfiding fpreads a level plain,
Exults, and owns the monarch of the main;
The parting waves before his courfers fly :
The wondering waters leave his axle dry.
Deep in the liquid regions lies a cave;
Between where Tenedos the furges lave,
And rocky Imbrus breaks the rolling wave:
There the great Ruler of the azure round
Stopp'd his fwift chariot, and his fteeds un-
bound,
Fed with ambrofial herbage from his hand,
And link'd their fetlocks with a golden band,
Infrangible, immortal: there they stay,
The Father of the floods purfues his way;
Where, like a tempeft darkening heaven around,
Or Gery deluge that devours the ground.
Then, as a falcon from the rocky height,
Her quarry feen, impetuous at the fight
Forth-fpringing inftant, darts herfelf from high,
Shoots on the wing, and fkims along the sky:
Such, and fo fwift, the power of Ocean flow; 95
The wide horizon fhut him from their view.
Th' infpiring God, Oileus' active fon
Perceiv'd the firft, and thus to Telamon:
Some God, my friend, fome God in human form
Favouring defcends, and wills to ftand the storm.
Th' impatient Trojans, in a gloomy throng,
Embattled roll'd as Hector rufh'd along:
To the loud tumult and the barbarous cry,
The heavens re-echo, and the fhores reply;
They vow deftruction to the Grecian name,
And in their hopes, the fleets already flame.
But Neptune, rifing from the feas profound, The God whofe earthquakes rock the folid ground, Now wears a mortal form; like Calchas feen, Such his loud voice, and fuch his manly mein; 70 His fhouts inceffant every Greek inspire, But most th' Ajaces, adding fire to fire.
Ah no-the glorious combat you difclaim,
And one black day clouds all her former fame.
Heavens! what a prodigy thefe eves furvey,
Unfeen, unthought, till this amazing day!
Fly we at length from Troy's oft-conquer'd
bands?
And falls our fleet by fuch inglorious hands? 140
A rout undisciplin'd, a straggling train,
Not born to glories of the dufty piain ;
Like frighted fawns, from hill to hill purfued,
A prey to every favage of the wood:
Shall thefe, fo late who trembled at your name, 145
Invade your camps, involve your fhips in flame?" A charge fo fhameful, fay, what caufe has wrought?
The foldier's bafenefs, or the general's fault?
Fools! will ye perifh for your leader's vice;
The purchafe infamy, and life the price?
'Tis not your caufe, Achilles' injur'd fame :
Another's is the crime, but yours the shame.
Grant that our chief offend through rage or luft,
Muft you be cowa ds if your king's unjuft?
Frevent this evil, and your country fave:
Small thought retrieves the fpirits of the brave.
Think, and fubdue! on daftards dead to fame
I wafte no anger, for they feel no shame :
But you, the pride, the flower of all our hoft,
My heart weeps blood to fee your glory loft! 160
Nor deem this day, this battle, all you lofe;
A day more black, a fate more vile, enfues.
Let cach reflect, who prizes fame or breath,
On endless infamy, on inftant death,
For lo! the fated time, th' appointed fhore;
Hark! the gates burft, the brazen barriers roar!
Impetuous Hector thunders at the wall;
The hour, the spot, to conquer, or to fall.
From steep to fteep the rolling ruin bounds; 195.
At every shock the crackling wood refounds;
Still gathering force, it fmokes; and, urg'ð
amain,
Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain:
There ftops-So Hector. Their whole force he prov'd,
Refiftlefs when he rag'd, and when he stopt, unmov'd.
On him the war is bent, the darts are shed, And all their falchions wave around his head : Repuls'd he ftands, nor from his stand retires; But with repeated fhouts his army fires. Trojans! be firm; this arm fhall make your 205
Through yon fquare body, and that black array. Stand, and my fpear fhall rout their scattering
Strong as they feem, embattled like a tower.
For he that Juno's heavenly bofom warms,
The firft of Gods, this day infpires our arms. 210
He faid, and rouz'd the foul in every breast;
Urg'd with defire of fame, beyond the rest,
Forth march'd Deiphobus; but, marching, held
Before his wary steps his ample shield.
Bold Merion aim'd a stroke (nor aim'd it wide)
215 The glittering javelin pierc'd the tough bull-hide; But pierc'd not through unfaithful to his hand, The point broke short, and sparkled in the fand. The Trojan warriour, touch'd with timely fear, On the rais'd orb to distance bore the spear: 220 The Greek retreating mourn'd his frustrate blow, And curs'd the treacherous lance that fpar'da foo Then to the fhips with furly speed he went, To feek a furer javelin in his tent.
Meanwhile with rifing rage the battle glows, 125 The tumult thickens, and the clamour grows. By Teucer's arm the warlike Imbrius bleeds, The fon of Mentor, rich in generous steeds. Ere yet to Troy the fons of Greece were led, In fair Pedæus' verdant paftures bred,
The youth had dwelt; remote from war's alarms; And blefs'd in bright Medeficafte's arms: (This nymph, the fruit of Priam's ravifh'd joy, Ally'd the warriour to the house of Troy.) To Troy, when glory call'd his arms, he came, 235 And match'd the bravest of her chiefs in fame: With Priam's fons, a guardian of the throne, He liv'd, belov'd and honour'd as his own. Him Teucer pierc'd between the throat and ear: He groans beneath the Telamonian spear. As from fome far-fean mountain's airy crown, Subdued by fteel, a tall afh tumbles down, And foils its verdant treffes on the ground: So falls the youth; his arms the fall refound. Then Teucer rufhing to defpoil the dead, From Hector's hand a thining javelin fled: He faw, and fhunn'd the death; the forceful dart Sung on, and pierc'd Amphimachus's heart, Cteatus' fon, of Neptune's forceful line; Vain was his courage, and his race divine! 250 Proftrate he falls; his clanging arms refound, | And his broad buckler thunders on the ground.
To feize his beamy helm the victor flies,
And just had faften'd on the dazzling prize,
When Ajax' manly arm a javelin flung ;
Full on the fhield's round bofs the weapon rung;
He felt the fhock, nor more was doom'd to feel,
Secure in mail, and sheath'd in shining steel.
Repuls'd, he yields; the victor Greeks obtain
The fpoils contefted, and bear off the flain. 260
Between the leaders of th' Athenian line
(Stichius the brave, Meneftheus the divine)
Deplor'd Amphimachus, fad object! lies;
Imbrius remains the fierce Ajaces' prize.
As two grim lions bear across the lawn,
Snatch'd from devouring hounds, a flaughter'd
fawn,
In their fell jaws high-lifting through the wood,
And fprinkling all the fhrubs with drops of blood;
So thefe the chief: great Ajax from the dead
Strips his bright arms, Oileus lops his head: 270
Tofs'd like a ball, and whirl'd in air away,
At Hector's feet the gory vifage lay.
The God of Ocean, fir'd with ftern difdain, And pierc'd with forrow for his grandfon flain, Infpires the Grecian hearts, confirms their hands,
To whom the king: On Greece no blame be thrown,
Arms are her trade, and war is all her own.
Her hardy heroes from the well-fought plaine
Nor fear withholds, nor thameful floth detains.
'Tis Heaven, alas! and Jove's all-powerful doom,
295
That far, far diftant from our native home
Wills us to fall, inglorious! Oh my friend!
Once foremost in the fight, ftill prone to lend
Or arms or counfels, now perform thy best,
And what thou canst not fingly, urge the reft.
300 Thus he; and thus the God, whose force can make
For this, behold! in horrid arms I fhine, And urge thy foul to rival acts with mine: Together let us battle on the plain;
Two, not the worft; nor ev'n this fuccour vain : 310
Not vain the weakeft, if their force unite;
But ours, the bravest have confefs'd in fight.
This faid, he ruthes where the combat burns;
Swift to his tent the Cretan king returns:
From thence, two javelins glittering in his hand,
315
And clad in arms that lighten'd all the ftrand,
Fierce on the foe th' impetuous hero drove ;
Like lightning bursting from the arm of Jove,
Which to pale man the wrath of Heaven declares,
Or terrifies th' offending world with wars; 320
In ftreamy fparkles, kindling all the skies,
From pole to pole the trail of glory flies.
Thus his bright armour o'er the dazzled throng
Gleam'd dreadful, as the monarch flath'd along.
Him near his tent, Meriones attends;
325
Whom thus he questions: Ever heft of friends!
O fay, in every art of battle skill'd,
What holds thy courage from fo brave a field?
On fome important meilage art thou bound,
Or bleeds my friend by fome unhappy wound?
330
Inglorious here, my foul abhors to stay,
And glows with profpects of th' approaching day.
O prince! (Meriones replies) whofe care
Leads forth th' embattled fons of Crete to war;
This fpeaks my grief; this headless lance I wield;
The reft lies rooted in a Trojan fhield.
To whom the Cretan: Enter, and receive The wanted weapons; those my tent can give; Spears I have store (and Troian lances all) That thed a luftre round th' illumin'd wail. 340 Though I, difdainful of the diftant war, Nor truft the dart, nor aim th' uncertain fpear, Yet hand to hand I fight, and fpoil the flain; And thence thefe trophies and thefe arms I gain. Enter, and fee on heaps the helmets roll'd, And high-hung fpears, and fields that flam with gold.
Nor vain (faid Merion) are our martial toils; We too can boaft of no ignoble spoils. But thofe my fhip contains; whence diftant far, I fight confpicuous in the van of war. What need I more? if any Greek there be Who knows not Merion, I appeal to thee. To this, Idomeneus: The fields of fight Have prov'd thy valour, and unconquer'd might; And were fome ambush for the foes defign', 55 Ev'n there, thy courage would not lag behind. In that sharp fervice, fingled from the rest, The fear of each, or valour, stands confeft, No force, no firmnefs, the pale coward fhows; He fhifts his place; his colour comes and goes; 360
A dropping fweat creeps cold on every part, Against his bofom beats his quivering heart; Terrour and death in his wild eye-balls ftare; With chattering teeth he stands, and stiffening
And looks a bloodless image of despair! 365.
Then firft fpake Merion: Shall we join the right,
Or combat in the centre of the fight?
Or to the left our wanted fuccour lend?
Hazard and fame all parts alike attend.
Not in the centre (Idomen reply'd):
Our ableft chieftains the main battle guide;
Each god-like Ajax makes that poft his care,
And gallant Teucer deals deftruction there:
Skill'd, or with fhafts to gall the diftant field,
Or bear close battle on the founding fhield.
Thefe can the rage of haughty Hector tame:
Safe in their arms, the navy fears no flame;
Till Jove himself defcends, his bolts to fhed,
And burl the blazing ruin at our head.
Great must he be, of more than human birth, 410
Kor feed like mortals on the fruits of earth,
Him neither rocks can crufh, nor fteel can wound,
Whom Ajax fells not on th' enfanguin'd ground:
In ftanding fight he mates Achilles' force,
Exc alone in fwiftnefs in the courte.
The > the left our ready arms apply,
And live with glory, or with glory die.
He faid; and Merion to th' appointed place, Fierce as the God of battles, urg'd his pace. Soon as the foe the thining chiefs beheld Ruth like a fiery torrent o'er the field, Their force embodied in a tide they pour; The rifing combat founds along the shore. As warring winds, in Sirius' fultry reign, From different quarters fweep the fandy plain;
The bold Idomeneus controls the day.
First by his hand Othryoneus was flain,
Swell'd with falfe hopes, with mad ambition vain!
Call'd by the voice of war to martial fame,
From high Cabefus' diftant walls he came;
Caffandra's love he fought, with boafts of power,
And promis'd conqueft was the proffer'd dower.
The king confented, by his vaunts abus'd;
The king confented, but the Fates refus'd.
Proud of himself, and of th' imagin'd bride, 465
The field he meafur'd with a larger ftride.
Him, as he ftalk'd, the Cretan javelin found;
Vain was his breaft-plate to repel the wound:
His dream of glory loft, he plung'd to hell:
His arms refounded as the boafter fell.
The great Idomeneus bestrides the dead; And thus (he cries) behold thy promife fped! Such is the help thy arms to Ilion bring, And fuch the contract of the Phrygian king! Our offers now, illuftrious prince! receive; 475 For fuch an aid what will not Argos give? To conquer Troy, with ours thy forces join, And count Atrides' faireft daughter thine. Meantime, on farther methods to advise, Come, follow to the fleet thy new allies; There hear what Greece has on her part to fay. He spoke, and dragg'd the gory corfe away. This Afius view'd, unable to contain, Before his chariot warring on the plain;
(His valued courfers, to his squire confign'd, Impatient panted on his neck behind) To vengeance rifing with a fudden spring, He hop'd the conqueft of the Cretan king. The wary Cretan, as his foe drew near, Full on his throat difcharg'd the forceful fpear: 490
485 | He once, of Ilion's youth, the lovelieft boy, The fairest the, of all the fair of Troy. By Neptune now the hapless hero dies: Who covers with a cloud thofe beauteous eyes, And fetters every limb: yet, bent to meet His fate, he stands; nor fhuns the lance of Crete. Fixt as fome column, or deep rooted oak, (While the winds fleep) his breaft receiv'd the ftroke.
Beneath the chin the point was fecn to glide,
And glitter'd, extant at the farther fide.
As when the mountain-oak, or poplar tall,
Or pine, fit maft for fome great admiral,
Groans to the oft-heav'd ax, with many a wound,
495
Then fpreads a length of ruin o'er the ground:
So funk proud Afius in that dreadful day,
And stretch'd before his much-lov'd courfers lay.
He grinds the duft diftain'd with ftreaming gore,
And, fierce in death, lies foaming on the thore.
Depriv'd of motion, stiff with ftupid fear,
Stands all aghaft his trembling charioteer,
Nor fhuns the foe, nor turns the steeds away,
But falls transfix'd, an unrefifting prey :
Pierc'd by Antilochus, he pants beneath
The stately car, and labours out his breath.
Thus Afius' feeds (their mighty master gone)
Remain the prize of Neftor's youthful fon.
Stabb'd at the fight, Deiphobus drew nigh,
And made, with force, the vengeful weapon fly.
510
The Cretan faw; and, ftooping, caus'd to glance
From his flope fhield, the difappointed lance.
Beneath the spacious targe (a blazing round,
Thick with bull-hides and brazen orbits bound,
On his rais'd arm by two ftrong oraces ftay'd) 515
He lay collected in defenfive thade;
O'er his fafe head the javelin idly fung,
And on the tinkling verge more faintly rung.
Ev'n then, the fpear the vigorous arm confeft,
And pierc'd, obliquely, king Hypfenor's breaft:
Warm'd in his liver, to the ground it bore
The chief, his people's guardian now no more!
Not unattended (the proud Trojan cries)
Nor unreveng'd, lamented Afius lies:
For thee though hell's black portals ftand difplay'd,
This mate fhall joy thy melancholy shade.
Heart-piercing anguish, at the haughty boast, Touch'd every Greek, but Neftor's fon the moft. Griev'd as he was, his pious arms attend,
And his broad buckler fhields his flaughter'd friend;
Till fad Meciftheus and Alaftor bore
His honour'd body to the tented thore.
yet from fight Idomeneus withdraws; Refolv'd to perish in his country's caufe,
Or find fome foe, whom heaven and he shall doom
Before the ponderous ftroke his corflet yields, 550
Long us'd to ward the death in fighting fields.
The riven armour fends a jarring found.
His labouring heart heaves with so strong a
bound,
The long lance fhakes, and vibrates in the wound:
Faft-flowing from its fource, as prone he lay,
Life's purple tide impetuous gufh'd away.
Then Idomen, infulting o'er the flain;
Behold, Deiphobus! nor vaunt in vain:
See! on one Greek three Trojan ghofts attend, 560
This, my third victim, to the fhades I fend,
Approaching now, thy boafted might approve,
And try the prowess of the feed of Jove.
From Jove, enamour'd on a mortal dame,
Great Minos, guardian of his country, came: 565
Deucalion, blameless prince! was Minos' heir;
His first-born I, the third from Jupiter:
O'er fpacious Crete and her bold fons I reign,
And thence my fhips tranfport me through the
Lord of a hoft, o'er all my hoft I shine,
A fcourge to thee, thy father, and thy fine.
The Trojan heard; uncertain, or to meet
Alone, with venturous arms, the king of Crete;
Or feek auxiliar force: at length decreed
To call fome hero to partake the deed,
Forthwith Æneas rifes to his thought:
For him, in Troy's remoteft lines, he fought;
Where he, incens'd at partial Priam, ftands,
And fees fuperiour posts in meaner hands.
To him, ambitious of fo great an aid,
The bold Deiphobus approach'd, and faid:
Now, Trojan prince, employ thy pious arms,.
If e'er thy bofom felt fair honour's charms.
Alcathous dies, thy brother and thy friend!
Come, and the warriour's lov'd remains defend.
595 When the loud rufticks rife, and fhout from far, Attends the tumult, and expects the war; O'er his bent back the briftly honours rife, Fires ftream in lightning from his fanguine eyes; His foaming tuiks both dogs and men engage, 600 But moft his hunters rouze his mighty rage:
His fpoufe Hippodamè, divinely fair,
Anchifes' eldeft hope, and darling care;
Who charm'd her parent's and her husband's heart,
With beauty, fenfe, and every work of art:
|