But Jove the greater; firft-born of the skies,
And more than men, or Gods, fupremely wife.
For this, of Jove's fuperior might afraid,
Neptune in human form conceal'd his aid.
Thefe powers infold the Greek and Trojan train
In War and Difcord's adamantine chain,
Indiffolubly strong; the fatal tye
Is ftretch'd on both, and, clofe-compell'd, they die. Dreadful in arms, and grown in combats grey, 455 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 boasts 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,
The field he meafur'd with a larger stride.
Him, as he stalk'd, the Cretan javelin found;
Vain was his breast-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 beftrides 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;
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 Greete has on her part to say.
He spoke, and dragg'd the gory corfe away.
This Afius view'd, unable to contain,
Before his chariot warring on the plain;
(His crouded 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
Beneath the chin the point was feen 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 spreads 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 streaming gore,
And, fierce in death, lies foaming on the fhore,
Depriv'd of motion, ftiff 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 ftately car, and labours out his breath.
Thus Afius' steeds (their mighty mafter gone)
Remain the prize of Neftor's youthful fon.
Stabb'd at the fight, Deïphobus 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 disappointed lance.
Beneath the spacious targe, (a blazing round,
Thick with bull-hides and brazen orbits bound,
On his rais'd arm by two ftrong braces ftay'd)
He lay collected in defensive shade;
O'er his fafe head the javelin idly fung,
And on the tinkling verge more faintly rung.
Ev'n then, the spear the vigorous arm confest,
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 boaft,
Touch'd every Greek, but Neftor's fon the most.
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 shore.
Nor yet from fight Idomeneus withdraws;
Refolv'd to perifh in his country's caufe,
Or find some foe, whom heaven and he shall doom 535
To wail his fate in death's eternal gloom.
With beauty, sense, and every work of art:
He once, of Ilion's youth, the loveliest boy,
The fairest fhe, of all the fair of Troy.
By Neptune now the hapless hero dies,
Who covers with a cloud those 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 breast receiv'd the ftroke.
Before the ponderous ftroke his corfelet yields,
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 shakes, and vibrates in the wound:
Faft-flowing from its fource, as prone he lay,
Life's purple tide impetuous gush'd away.
Then Idomen, insulting o'er the slain;
Behold, Deïphobus! nor vaunt in vain ::
See! on one Greek three Trojan ghosts attend,
This, my
third victim, to the fhades I fend.
Approaching now, thy boasted 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:
Deucalion, blameless prince! was Minos' heir;
His firft-born I, the third from Jupiter:
O'er fpacious Crete and her bold fons I reign,
And thence my ships transport me through the main :
Lord of a hoft, o'er all my host I shine,
A fcourge to thee, thy father, and thy line.
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 pofts in meaner hands.
To him, ambitious of fo great an aid,
The bold Deïphobus approach'd, and faid:
Now, Trojan prince, employ thy pious arms,
If e'er thy bofom felt fair honour's charms.
Alcathoüs dies, thy brother and thy friend!
Come, and the warriour's lov'd remains defend.
Beneath his cares thy early youth was train'd,
One table fed you, and one roof contain'd.
This deed to fierce Idomeneus we owe ;
Hafte, and revenge it on th' infulting foe.
Æneas heard, and for a space refign'd
To tender pity all his manly mind;
Then, rifing in his rage, he burns to fight:
The Greek awaits him, with collected might.
As the fell boar on fome rough mountain's head, Arm'd with wild terrours, and to slaughter bred, 595 When the loud rufticks rife, and fhout from far,
Attends the tumult, and expects the war;
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