Like frighted fawns, from hill to hill purfued, fra A prey to every favage of the wood
Shall these, so late who trembled at your name,
Invade your camps, involve your ships in flame?
A change fo fhameful, fay, what cause has wrought?
The foldier's baseness, or the general's fault?
Fools! will ye perish for your leader's vice;
The purchase 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 cowards if your king's unjust ?
Prevent this evil, and your country fave:
Small thought retrieves the fpirits of the brave.
Think, and fubdue! on daftards dead to fame
I waste no ánger, for they feel no shame :
But you, the pride, the flower of all our hoft,
My heart weeps blood to fee your glory loft !
Nor deem this day, this battle, all you lose ;
A day more black, a fate more vile, ensues.
Let each reflect, who prizes fame or breath,
On endless infamy, on instant death,
For lo! the fated time, th' appointed fhore;
Hark! the gates burst, the brazen barriers roar!
Impetuous Hector thunders at the wall;
The hour, the spot, to conquer, or to fall.
Thefe words the Grecians' fainting hearts infpire,
And liftening armies catch the god-like fire.
Fix'd at his poft was each bold Ajax found,
With well-rang'd fquadrons ftrongly circled round:
So close their order, fo difpos'd their fight,
As Pallas' felf might view with fix'd delight;
Or had the God of War inclin'd his eyes,
The God of War had own'd a juft furprize.
A chofen phalanx, firm, resolv'd as Fate,
Defcending Hector and his battle wait.
An iron scene gleams dreadful o'er the fields,
Armour in armour lock'd, and shields in fhields, 180
Spears lean on fpears, on targets targets throng,
Helms ftuck to helms, and man drove man along.
The floating plumes unnumber'd wave above,
As when an earthquake ftirs the nodding grove;
And, level'd at the skies with pointing rays,
Their brandish'd lances at each motion blaze.
Thus breathing death, in terrible array,
The close-compacted legions urg'd their way:
Fierce they drove on, impatient to destroy;
Troy charg'd the first, and Hector firft of Troy. 190
As from fome mountain's craggy forehead torn,
A rock's round fragment flies, with fury borne
(Which from the stubborn stone a torrent rends)
Precipitate the ponderous mass descends :
From steep to steep the rolling ruin bounds;
At every shock the crackling wood resounds;
Still gathering force, it fmokes; and, urg'd 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 stands, nor from his ftand retires;
But with repeated fhouts his army fires.
Trojans! be firm; this arm fhall make your way 265
Through yon fquare body, and that black array.
Stand, and my fpear fhall rout their scattering power,
Strong as they feem, embattled like a tower.
For he that Juno's heavenly bofom warms,
The firft of Gods, this day inspires our arms.
He faid, and rouz'd the foul in every breast;
Urg'd with defire of fame, beyond the reft,
Forth march'd Deïphobus; but, marching, held
Before his wary fteps his ample fhield.
Rold Merion aim'd a ftroke (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 fhort, and sparkled in the fand.
The Trojan warriour, touch'd with timely fear,
On the rais'd orb to distance bore the fpear:
The Greek retreating mourn'd his fruftrate blow,
And curs'd the treacherous lance that fpar'd a foe;
Then to the ships with furly speed he went,
To feek a furer javelin in his tent.
Meanwhile with rifing rage the battle glows, 225 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 pastures 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 ravish'd joy,
Ally'd the warriour to the house of Troy.)
To Troy, when glory call'd his arms, he came,
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-feen mountain's airy crown,
Subdued by steel, a tall ash tumbles down,
And foils its verdant treffes on the ground:
So falls the youth; his arms the fall resound.
Then Teucer rushing to defpoil the dead,
From Hector's hand a shining javelin fled :
He faw, and hunn'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!
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 fasten'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 shock, nor more was doom'd to feel,
Secure in mail, and fheath'd in fhining steel.
Repuls'd, he yields; the victor Greeks obtain
The spoils contested, and bear off the slain.
Between the leaders of th' Athenian line
(Stichius the brave, Menestheus the divine)
Deplor'd Amphimachus, fad object! lies;
Imbrius remains the fierce Ajaces' prize.
As two grim lions bear across the lawn,
265 Snatch'd from devouring hounds, a slaughter'd fawn, In their fell jaws high-lifting through the wood,' And sprinkling all the shrubs with drops of blood; So these the chief: great Ajax from the dead Strips his bright arms, Oïleus 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 disdain,
And pierc'd with forrow for his * grandson slain,
Infpires the Grecian hearts, confirms their hands, 27.5
And breathes deftruction on the Trojan bands.
Swift as a whirlwind rushing to the fleet,
He finds the lance-fam'd Idomen of Crete;
His penfive brew the generous care expreft
With which a wounded foldier touch'd his breaft, 280
Whom in the chance of war a javelin tore,
And his fad comrades from the battle bore ;
Him to the furgeons of the camp he fent;
That office paid, he iffued from his tent;
Fierce for the fight: to whom the God begun,
In Thoas' voice, Andræmon's valiant fon,
Who rul'd where Calydon's white rocks arise,
And Pleuron's chalky cliffs emblaze the skies :
Where's now th' imperious vaunt, the daring boaft,
Of Greece victorious, and proud Ilion loft?
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 plains Nor fear withholds, nor fhameful floth detains.
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