The fifth Battle, at the fhips; and the Acts of Ajax. JUPITER awaking, fees the Trojans repulfed from the trenches, Hector in a fwoon, and Neptune at the head of the Greeks. He is highly incensed at the artifice of Juno, who appeafes him by her fubmiffions: the is then fent to Iris and Apollo. Juno, repairing to the affembly of the Gods, attempts, with extraordinary addrefs, to incenfe them against Jupiter; in particular touches Mars with a violent refentment: he is ready to take arms, but is prevented by Minerva. Iris and Apollo obey the orders of Jupiter; Iris commands Neptune to leave the battle, to which, after unuch reluctance and paffion, he confents. Apollo reinfpires Hector with vigour, brings him back to the battle, marches before him with his Ægis, and turns the fortune of the fight. He breaks down great part of the Grecian wall: the Trojans rufh in, and attempt to fire the first line of the fleet, but are, as yet, repelled by the greater Ajax with a prodigious laughter.
OW in swift flight they pafs the trench profound,
And many a chief lay gasping on the ground:
Then stopp'd and panted, where the chariots lie;
Fear on their cheek, and horrour in their eye.
Meanwhile, awaken'd from his dream of love,
On Ida's fummit fat imperial Jove :
Round the wide fields he caft a careful view,
There saw the Trojans fly, the Greeks pursue ;
These proud in arms, thofe fcatter'd o'er the plain;
And, midft the war, the Monarch of the Main.
Not far, great Hector on the duft he spies
(His fad affociates round with weeping eyes)
Ejecting blood, and panting yet for breath,
His fenfes wandering to the verge of death.
The God beheld him with a pitying look,
And thus, incens'd, to fraudful Juno fpoke:
O thon, ftill adverfe to th' Eternal Will,
For ever studious in promoting ill!
Thy arts have made the god-like Hector yield,
And driv'n his conquering fquadrons from the field. 20
Canft thou, unhappy in thy wiles! withstand
Our power immense, and brave th' almighty hand?
Haft thou forgot, when, bound and fix'd on high,
From the vast concave of the spangled sky,
I hung thee trembling in a golden chain ;
And all the raging Gods oppos'd in vain ?
Headlong I hurl'd them from th' Olympian hall,
Stunn'd in the whirl, and breathlefs with the fall.
For god-like Hercules these deeds were done,
Nor feem'd the vengeance worthy such a son:
When, by thy wiles induc'd, fierce Boreas toft
The shipwreck'd hero on the Coan coast,
Him through a thousand forms of death I bore,
And fent to Argos, and his native shore.
Hear this, remember, and our fury dread,
Nor pull th' unwilling vengeance on thy head;
Left arts and blandishments fuccefsless prove,
Thy foft deceits, and well-diffembled love.
The Thunderer spoke : imperial Juno mourn'd,
And, trembling, these fubmiffive words return'd: 40
By every oath that Powers immortal ties,
The foodful earth, and all-infolding skies;
By thy black waves, tremendous Styx! that flow
Through the drear realms of gliding ghosts below;
By the dread honours of thy facred head,
And that unbroken vow, our virgin bed!
Not by my arts the Ruler of the Main
Steeps Troy in blood, and ranges round the plain:
By his own ardour, his own pity, sway'd
To help his Greeks; he fought, and disobey'd
Elfe had thy Juno better counfels given,
And taught fubmiffion to the Sire of Heaven.
Think'st thou with me? fair Emprefs of the Skies! (Th' immortal Father with a smile replies !) Then foon the haughty Sea-god fhall obey,
Nor dare to act but when we point the way.
If truth infpires thy tongue, proclaim our will
To yon bright fynod on th' Olympian hill;
Our high decree let various Iris know,
And call the God that bears the filver bow.
Let her defcend, and from th' embattled plain
Command the Sea-god to his watery reign:
While Phoebus haftes, great Hector to prepare
To rife afresh, and once more wake the war;
His labouring bofom re-inspires with breath,
And calls his fenfes from the verge of death.
Greece, chac'd by Troy ev'n to Achilles' fleet,
Shall fall by thousands at the hero's feet.
He, not untouch'd with pity, to the plain
Shall send Patroclus, but shall send in vain.
What youths he flaughters under Ilion's walls!
Ev'n my lov'd fon, divine Sarpedon, falls!
Vanquish'd at laft by Hector's lance he lies.
Then, nor till then, fhall great Achilles rife :
And lo! that inftant god-like Hector dies.
From that great hour the war's whole fortune turns,
Pallas affifts, and lofty Ilion burns:
Not till that day shall Jove relax his rage,
Nor one of all the heavenly host engage
In aid of Greece. The promise of a God
I gave, and feal'd it with th' almighty nod,
Achilles' glory to the ftars to raise;
Such was our word, and Fate the word obeys.
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