The fon of Mars fell gafping on the ground,
And gnash'd the duft all bloody with his wound.
Nor knew the furious father of his fall;
High-thron'd amidst the great Olympian hall,
On golden clouds th' immortal fynod fate;
Detain'd from bloody war by Jove and Fate.
Now, where in dust the breathless hero lay,
For flain Ascalaphus commenc'd the fray.
Deïphobus to feize his helmet flies,
And on his loaded arm discharg'd his fpear:
And from his temples rends the glittering prize;
Valiant as Mars, Meriones drew near,
He drops the weight, disabled with the pain;
The hollow helmet rings against the plain.
Swift as a vulture leaping on his prey,
From his torn arm the Grecian rent away
The reeking javelin, and rejoin'd his friends.
His wounded brother good Polites tends;
Around his waift his pious arms he threw,
And from the rage of combat gently drew :
Him his fwift courfers, on his fplendid car,
Rapt from the leffening thunder of the war;
To Troy they drove him, groaning from the shore,
And fprinkling, as he pass'd, the fands with gore.
Meanwhile fresh slaughter bathes the fanguine ground,
Heaps fall on heaps, and heaven and earth resound.
Bold Aphareus by great Æneas bled;
As tow'rd the chief he turn'd his daring head,
He pierc'd his throat; the bending head, depreft
Beneath his helmet, nods upon his breast ;
His fhield revers'd o'er the fall'n warriour lies;
And everlasting flumber feals his eyes.
Antilochus, as Thoön turn'd him round,
Tranfpierc'd his back with a dishonest wound:
The hollow vein that to the neck extends
Along the chine, his eager javelin rends :
Supine he falls, and to his focial train
Spreads his imploring arms, but spreads in vain. 695
Th' exulting victor, leaping where he lay,
From his broad fhoulders tore the spoils away;
His time obferv'd; for, clos'd by foes around,
On all fides thick, the peals of arms refound.
His fhield, embofs'd, the ringing ftorm fuftains, 700
But he impervious and untouch'd remains.
(Great Neptune's care preferv'd from hostile rage
This youth, the joy of Neftor's glorious age)
In arms intrepid, with the first he fought,
Fac'd every foe, and every danger fought;
His winged lance, refiftlefs as the wind,
Obeys each motion of the master's mind,
Restless it flies, impatient to be free,
And meditates the distant enemy.
The fon of Afius, Adamas, drew near,
And ftruck his target with the brazen fpear,
Fierce in his front: but Neptune wards the blow,
And blunts the javelin of th' eluded foe.
In the broad buckler half the weapon stood;
Splinter'd on earth flew half the broken wood.
Difarm'd, he mingled in the Trojan crew;
But Merion's fpear o'ertook him as he flew,
Deep in the belly's rim an entrance found,
Where fharp the pang, and mortal is the wound.
Bending, he fell, and doubled to the ground, 720
Lay panting. Thus an ox, in fetters ty'd,
While death's ftrong pangs distend his labouring fide,
His bulk enormous on the field displays;
His heaving heart beats thick, as ebbing life decays.
The spear, the conqueror from his body drew,
And death's dim fhadows fwam before his view.
Next brave Deipyrus in duft was laid:
King Helenus wav'd high the Thracian blade,
And fmote his temples, with an arm so strong,
The helm fell off, and roll'd amid the throng:
There, for fome luckier Greek it rests a prize;
For dark in death the god-like owner lies!
Raging with grief, great Menelaüs burns,
And, fraught with vengeance, to the victor turns ; That shook the ponderous lance, in act to throw; 735 And this stood adverse with the bended bow:
Full on his breaft the Trojan arrow fell,
But harmless bounded from the plated steel.
As on fome ample barn's well-harden'd floor, (The winds collected at each open door)
While the broad fan with force is whirl'd around,
Light leaps the golden grain, refulting from the
So from the feel that guards Atrides' heart,
Repell'd to distance flies the bounding dart.
Atrides, watchful of th' unwary foe,
Pierc'd with his lance the hand that grafp'd the bow,
And nail'd it to the eugh: the wounded hand
Trail'd the long lance that mark'd with blood the fand: But good Agenor gently from the wound
The fpear folicits, and the bandage bound;
A fling's foft wool, snatch'd from a soldier's fide,
At once the tent and ligature fupply'd.
Behold! Pifander, urg'd by Fate's decree,
Springs through the ranks to fall, and fall by thee,
Great Menelaus! to enhance thy fame;
High-towering in the front, the warriour came.
First the sharp lance was by Atrides thrown
The lance far diftant by the winds was blown.
Nor pierc'd Pifander through Atrides' shield;
Pifander's fpear fell fhiver'd on the field.
Not so discourag'd, to the future blind,
Vain dreams of conquest swell his haughty mind;
Dauntless he rushes where the Spartan lord
Like lightning brandish'd his far-beaming fword.
His left arm high oppos'd the fhining shield:
His right, beneath, the cover'd pole-ax held
(An olive's cloudy grain the handle made,
Distinct with ftuds; and brazen was the blade);
This on the helm discharg'd a noble blow;
The plume dropt nodding to the plain below,
Shorn from the creft. Atrides wav'd his steel:
Deep through his front the weighty falchion fell;
The crashing bones before its force gave way;
In duft and blood the groaning hero lay;
Forc'd from their ghastly orbs, and spouting gore, 775
The clotted eye-balls tumble on the shore.
The fierce Atrides spurn'd him as he bled,
Tore off his arms, and, loud-exulting, said :
Thus, Trojans, thus, at length be taught to fear;
O race perfidious, who delight in war!
Already noble deeds ye have perform'd,
A princess rapt transcends a navy storm'd:
In fuch bold feats your impious might approve,
Without th' affistance, or the fear, of Jove.
The violated rites, the ravish'd dame,
Our heroes flaughter'd, and our ships on flame,
Crimes heap'd on crimes fhall bend your glory down,
And whelm in ruins yon flagitious town.
O thou, great Father! Lord of earth and skies,
Above the thought of man! fupremely wife!
If from thy hand the fates of mortals flow,
From whence this favour to an impious foe,
A godless crew, abandon'd and unjust,
Still breathing rapine, violence, and luft?
The best of things, beyond their measure, cloy;
Sleep's balmy bleffing, love's endearing joy ;
The feaft, the dance; whate'er mankind defire,
Ev'n the fweet charms of facred numbers tire.
But Troy for ever reaps a dire delight
In thirst of flaughter, and in lust of fight.
This faid, he feiz'd (while yet the carcass heav'd) The bloody armour, which his train receiv'd: Then fudden mix'd among the warring crew, And the bold fon of Pylæmenes flew, Harpalion had through Afia travel'd far, Following his martial father to the war ;.
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