To Troy, when glory call'd his arms, he came,
And match'd the braveft 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 fpear.
As from fome far-feen mountain's airy crown,
Subdued by steel, 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 fhining javelin fled :
He saw, and fhunn'd the death; the forceful dart
Sung on, and pierc'd Amphimachus's heart,
Creatus' 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 seize 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 fhock, nor more was doom'd to feel,
Secure in mail, and sheath'd in fhining steel.
Repuls'd, he yields; the victor Greeks obtain
The spoils contefted, 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 flaughter'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 :
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 stern disdain,
And pierc'd with forrow for his
grandson slain,
Infpires the Grecian hearts, confirms their hands, 274
And breathes destruction on the Trojan bands..
Swift as a whirlwind rushing to the fleet,
He finds the lance-fam'd Idomen of Crete ;-
His penfive brow the generous care exprest
With which a wounded foldier touch'd his breast, 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 issued from his tent,
Fierce for the fight: to whom the God begun,
In Thoas' voice, Andræmon's valiant son,
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 boast,
Of Greece victorious, and proud Ilion lost ?
To whom the king: On Greece no blame be thrown, Arms are her trade, and war is all her own. Ter hardy heroes from the well-fought plains or fear withholds, nor fhameful 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, still prone to lend
Or arms or counfels, now perform thy best,
And what thou canst not singly, urge the rest.
Thus he; and thus the God, whose force can make
The folid globe's eternal basis shake:
Ah! never may he fee his native land,
But feed the vultures on this hateful strand,
Who feeks ignobly in his ships to stay,
Nor dares to combat on this fignal day!
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 worst; nor ev'n this fuccour vain :
Not vain the weakest, if their force unite;
But ours, the bravest have confess'd in fight.
This faid, he rushes 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 strand,
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;
In ftreamy sparkles, 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 flash'd along.
Below, fair Ilion's glittering fpires were seen,
The crouded ships, and fable feas between.
There, from the cryftal chambers of the main
Emerg'd, he fate; and mourn'd his Argives dain.
At Jove incens'd, with grief and fury stung,
Prone down the rocky steep he rush'd along;
Fierce as he past, the lofty mountains nod,
The forest shakes! earth trembled as he trod,
And felt the footsteps of th' immortal God.
From realm to realm three ample ftrides he took,
And, at the fourth, the distant Ægæ fhook.
Far in the bay his fhining palace stands,
Eternal frame! not rais'd by mortal hands:
This having reach'd, his brafs-hoof'd steeds he reins,
Flect 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,
He fits fuperior, and the chariot flies :
His whirling wheels the glaffy furface sweep;
Th' enormous monsters, rolling o'er the deep,
Gambol around him on the watery way;
And heavy whales in aukward measures play :
The fea fubfiding spreads 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 steeds unbound,
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 pursues his way ;
Where, like a tempeft darkening heaven around,
Or fiery deluge that devours the ground,
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 shores 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 whose earthquakes rock the solid ground,
Now wears a mortal form; like Chalcas feen,
Such his loud voice, and such his manly mien;
His shouts incessant every Greek inspire,
But most th' Ajaces, adding fire to fire.
'Tis yours, O warriours, all our hopes to raife;
Oh, recollect your ancient worth and praise :·
'Tis yours to fave us, if you cease to fear;
Flight, more than shameful, is destructive, here.
On other works though Troy with fury fall,
And pour her armies o'er our batter'd wall;
There, Greece has ftrength: but this, this part o'er-
thrown,
Her ftrength were vain; I dread for you alone.
Here Hector rages like the force of fire,
Vaunts of his Gods, and calls high Jove his fire.
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