On him the war is bent, the darts are shed,
And all their falchions wave around his head:
Repulsed he stands, nor from his stand retires;
But with repeated shouts his army fires.
Trojans! be firm; this arm shall make your way
Through yon square body, and that black array.
Stand, and my spear shall rout their scattering power,
Strong as they seem, embattled like a tower.
For he that Juno's heavenly bosom warms,
The first of gods, this day inspires our arms.

210 He finds the lance-famed Idomen of Crete:
His pensive brow the generous care express'd,
With which a wounded soldier touch'd his breast, 280
Whom in the chance of war a javelin tore,
And his sad comrades from the battle bore.
Him to the surgeons of the camp he sent ;
That office paid, he issued from his tent,
Fierce from the fight: to him the god begun,
In Thoas' voice, Adræmon's valiant son,
Who ruled where Calydon's white rocks arise,
And Pleuron's chalky cliffs emblaze the skies.
Where's now the imperious vaunt, the daring boast,
Of Greece victorious, and proud Ilion lost? 290

He said, and roused the soul in every breast;
Urged with desire of fame, beyond the rest,
Forth march'd Deïphobus; but marching held,
Before his wary steps, his ample shield.
Bold Merion aim'd a stroke (nor aim'd it wide)
The glittering javelin pierced the tough bull-hide;
But pierced not through: unfaithful to his hand,
The point broke short, and sparkled in the sand.
The Trojan warrior, touch'd with timely fear,
On the raised orb to distance bore the spear:
The Greek retreating mourn'd his frustrate blow,
And cursed the treacherous lance that spared a foe;
Then to the ships with surly speed he went,
To seek a surer javelin in his tent.

Meanwhile with rising rage the battle glows,
The tumult thickens, and the clamour grows.
By Teucer's arm the warlike Imbrius bleeds,
The son of Mentor, rich in generous steeds.
Ere yet to Troy the sons of Greece were led,
In fair Pedæus' verdant pastures bred,
The youth had dwelt; remote from war's alarms,
And blest in bright Medesicaste's arms:
(This nymph, the fruit of Priam's ravish'd joy,
Allied the warrior 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 sons, a guardian of the throne,
He lived, beloved and honour'd as his own.
Him Teucer pierced between the throat and ear:
He groans beneath the Telamonian spear.
As from some far-seen mountain's airy crown,
Subdued by steel, a tall ash tumbles down,
And soils its verdant tresses on the ground:
So falls the youth; his arms the fall resound.
Then Teucer rushing to despoil the dead,
From Hector's hand a shining javelin fled:
He saw,
and shunn'd the death; the forceful dart
Sung on, and pierced Amphimacus's heart,
Cteatus' son, of Neptune's forceful line;
Vain was his courage, and his race divine!
Prostrate he falls: his clanging arms resound,
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 shield's round boss the weapon rung;
He felt the shock, nor more was doom'd to feel,
Secure in mail, and sheath'd in shining steel.
Repulsed he yields; the victor Greeks obtain
The spoils contested, and bear off the slain.
Between the leaders of the Athenian line
(Stichius the brave, Menestheus the divine,)
Deplored Amphimachus, sad object! lies;
Imbrius remains the fierce Ajaces' prize.
As two grim lions bear across the lawn,

220

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 shameful sloth detains.
'Tis heaven, alas! and Jove's all-powerful doom,
That far, far distant from our native home
Wills us to fall, inglorious! Oh my friend!
230 Once foremost in the fight, still prone to lend
Or arms, or counsels; now perform thy best,
And what thou canst not singly, urge the rest.
Thus he; and thus the god, whose force can make
The solid globe's eternal basis shake:
Ah! never may he see his native land,
But feed the vultures on this hateful strand,
Who seeks ignobly in his ships to stay,
Nor dares to combat on this signal day!

For this, behold! in horrid arms I shine,

240 And urge thy soul to rival acts with mine;

Together let us battle on the plain;

300

320

250 Like lightning bursting from the arm of Jove,
Which the pale man the wrath of heaven declares,
Or terrifies the offending world with wars;
In streamy 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.
Him, near his tent, Meriones attends;
Whom thus he questions: Ever best of friends!
O say, in every art of battle skill'd,
260 What holds thy courage from so brave a field?
On some important message art thou bound,

Or bleeds my friend by some unhappy wound? 330
Inglorious here, my soul abhors to stay,

And glows with prospects of the approaching day.
O prince! (Meriones replies) whose care

Snatch'd from devouring hounds, a slaughter'd fawn, Leads forth the embattled sons of Crete to war;

In their fell jaws high-lifting through the wood,
And sprinkling all the shrubs with drops of blood;

* Amphimachus.

This speaks my grief: this headless lance I wield;
The rest lies rooted in a Trojan shield.

To whom the Cretan: Enter, and receive
The wanted weapons; those my tent can give;
Spears I have store (and Trojan lances all)
That shed a lustre round the illumined wall.
Though I, disdainful of the distant war,
Nor trust the dart, nor aim the uncertain spear;
Yet hand to hand I fight, and spoil the slain;
And thence these trophies and these arms I gain.
Enter, and see on heaps the helmets roll'd,
And high-hung spears, and shields that flame with
gold.

Nor vain (said Merion) are our martial toils;
We too can boast of no ignoble spoils;

But those my ship contains; whence distant far,
I fight conspicuous in the van of war:
What need I more? if any Greek there be
Who knows not Merion, I appeal to thee.

Each godlike Ajax makes that post his care,
And gallant Teucer deals destruction there;
Skill'd, or with shafts to gall the distant field,
Or bear close battle on the sounding shield.
These can the rage of haughty Hector tame :
340 Safe in their arms, the navy fears no flame,
Till Jove himself descends, his bolts to shed,
And hurl the blazing ruin at our head.
Great must he be, of more than human birth,
Nor feed like mortals on the fruits of earth,
Him neither rocks can crush, nor steel can wound,
Whom Ajax fells not on the ensanguined ground.
In standing fight he mates Achilles' force,
Excell'd alone in swiftness in the course.
Then to the left our ready arms apply,
And live with glory, or with glory die.

350

410

420

He said; and Merion to the appointed place,
Fierce as the god of battles, urged his pace.
Soon as the foe the shining chiefs beheld,
Rush like a fiery torrent o'er the field,
The force embodied in a tide they pour;
The rising combat sounds along the shore.
As warring winds, in Sirius' sultry reign,
From different quarters sweep the sandy plain;
On every side the dusty whirlwinds rise,
And the dry fields are lifted to the skies:
360 Thus, by despair, hope, rage, together driven,
Met the black hosts, and, meeting, darken'd heaven.
All dreadful glared the iron face of war,
Bristled with upright spears, that flash'd afar;
Dire was the gleam of breast-plates, helms, and
shields,

To this Idomeneus: The fields of fight
Have proved thy valour, and unconquer'd might;
And were some ambush for the foes design'd,
E'en there thy courage would not lag behind.
In that sharp service, singled from the rest,
The fear of each, our valour stands confess'd.
No force, no firmness, the pale coward shows;
He shifts his place, his colour comes and goes;
A dropping sweat creeps cold on every part,
Against his bosom beats his quivering heart;
Terror and death in his wild eye-balls stare;
With chattering teeth he stands, and stiffening hair,
And looks a bloodless image of despair!
Not so the brave-still dauntless, still the same,
Unchanged his colour, and unmoved his frame;
Composed his thought, determined is his eye,
And fix'd his soul, to conquer or to die :
If aught disturb the tenor of his breast,
"Tis but the wish to strike before the rest.

In such assays thy blameless worth is known,
And every art of dangerous war thy own.
By chance of fight whatever wound you bore,
Those wounds were glorious all, and all before;
Such as may teach, 'twas still thy brave delight
To oppose thy oosom where the foremost fight.
But why, like infants, cold to honour's charms,
Stand we to talk, when glory calls to arms?
Go-from my conquer'd spears the choicest take,
And to their owners send them nobly back.

And polish'd arms emblazed the flaming fields:
Tremendous scene! that general horror gave,
But touch'd with joy the bosoms of the brave.

Saturn's great sons in fierce contention vied, 370 And crowds of heroes in their anger died.

381

Swift at the word bold Merion snatch'd a spear,
And breathing slaughter follow'd to the war.
So Mars armipotent invades the plain,
(The wide destroyer of the race of man :)
Terror, his best-loved son, attends his course,
Arm d with stern boldness, and enormous force;
The pride of haughty warriors to confound,
And lay the strength of tyrants on the ground:
From Thrace they fly, call'd to the dire alarms
Of warring Phlegyians, and Ephyrian arms,
Invoked by both, relentless they dispose
To these glad conquest, murderous rout to those.
So march'd the leaders of the Cretan train,
And their bright arms shot horror o'er the plain.
Then first spake Merion: Shall we join the right,
Or combat in the centre of the fight?
Or to the left our wonted succour lend?
Hazard and fame all parts alike attend.
Not in the centre (Idomen replied :)
Our ablest chieftains the main battle guide;

The sire of earth and heaven, by Thetis won,
To crown with glory Peleus' godlike son,
Will'd not destruction to the Grecian powers,
But spared a while the destined Trojan towers:
While Neptune, rising from his azure main,
Warr'd on the king of heaven with stern disdain,
And breathed revenge, and fired the Grecian train.
Gods of one source, of one ethereal race,
Alike divine, and heaven their native place:
But Jove the greater; first-born of the skies,
And more than men, or gods, supremely wise.
For this, of Jove's superior might afraid,
Neptune in human form conceal'd his aid.
These powers infold the Greek and Trojan train
In War and Discord's adamantine chain,
Indissolubly strong; the fatal tie

430

440

450

460

Is stretch'd on both, and close-compell'd they die
Dreadful in arms, and grown in combats gray,
The bold Idomeneus controuls the day.
390 First by his hand Othryoneus was slain,
Swell'd with false hopes, with mad ambition vain!
Call'd by the voice of war to martial fame,
From high Cabesus' distant walls he came;
Cassandra's love he sought, with boasts of power,
And promised conquest was the proffer'd dower.
The king consented, by his vaunts abused;
The king consented, by the Fates refused.
Proud of himself, and of the imagined bride,
The field he measured with a larger stride.
400 Him, as he stalk'd, the Cretan javelin found;
Vain was his breast-plate to repel the wound:

His dream of glory lost, he plunged to hell:
His arms resounded as the boaster fell.

The great Idomeneus bestrides the dead;
And thus (he cries) behold thy promise sped!
Such is the help thy arms to Ilion bring,
And such the contract of the Phrygian king!
Our offers now, illustrious prince! receive;
For such an aid what will not Argos give?
To conquer Troy, with ours thy forces join,
And count Atrides' fairest daughter thine.
Meantime, on farther methods to advise,
Come, follow to the fleet thy new allies;
There hear what Greece has on her part to say.
He spoke, and dragg'd the gory corse away.

This Asius view'd, unable to contain,
Before his chariot warring on the plain;
(His valued coursers to his squire consign'd,
Impatient panted on his neck behind.)
To vengeance rising with a sudden spring,
He hoped the conquest of the Cretan king.
The wary Cretan, as his foe drew near,

540

He sees Alcathous in the front aspire;
470 Great Esyetes was the hero's sire:
His spouse Hippodamè, divinely fair,
Anchises' eldest hope, and darling care:
Who charm'd her parent's and her husband's heart,
With beauty, sense, and every work of art:
He once, of Ilion's youth, the loveliest boy,
The fairest she 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

480 His fate he stands; nor shuns the lance of Crete.
Fix'd as some column, or deep-rooted oak
(While the winds sleep,) his breast received the stroke.
Before the ponderous stroke his corselet yields, 551
Long used to ward the death in fighting fields,
The riven armour sends a jarring sound:
His labouring heart heaves with so strong a bound,
The long lance shakes, and vibrates in the wound:
Fast flowing from its source, as prone he lay,
Life's purple tide impetuous gush'd away.

Full on his throat discharged the forceful spear: 490
Beneath the chin the point was seen to glide,
And glitter'd, extant, at the farther side.
As when the mountain oak, or poplar tall,
Or pine, fit mast for some great admiral,
Groans to the oft-heaved axe, with many a wound,
Then spreads a length of ruin o'er the ground;
So sunk proud Asius in that dreadful day,
And stretch'd before his much-loved coursers lay.
He grinds the dust distain'd with streaming gore,
And, fierce in death, lies foaming on the shore.
Deprived of motion, stiff with stupid fear,
Stands all aghast his trembling charioteer,
Nor shuns the foe, nor turns the steeds away,
But falls transfix'd, an unresisting prey:
Pierced by Antilochus, he pants beneath
The stately car, and labours out his breath.
Thus Asius' steeds (their mighty master gone)
Remain the prize of Nestor's youthful son.

500

510

Stabb'd at the sight, Deïphobus drew nigh,
And made, with force, the vengeful weapon fly.
The Cretan saw; and, stooping, caused to glance,
From his slope shield, the disappointed lance.
Beneath the spacious targe (a blazing round
Thick with bull-hides and brazen orbits bound,
On his raised arm by two strong braces stay'd)
He lay collected in defensive shade;
O'er his safe head the javelin idly sung,
And on the tinkling verge more faintly rung.
E'en then, the spear the vigorous arm confess'd,
And pierced, obliquely, king Hypsener's breast: 520
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 unrevenged, lamented Asius lies:
For thee though hell's black portals stand display'd,
This mate shall joy thy melancholy shade.

Heart-piercing anguish, at the haughty boast,
Touch'd every Greek, but Nestor's sons the most.
Grieved as he was, his pious arms attend,
And his broad buckler shields his slaughter'd friend;
Till sad Mecistheus and Alastor bore
His honour'd body to the tented shore.

Nor yet from fight Idomeneus withdraws;
Resolved to perish in his country's cause,

Or find some foe, who heaven and he shall doom
To wail his fate in death's eternal gloom.

531

Then Idomen, insulting o'er the slain;
Behold, Deïphobus! nor vaunt in vain :
See! on one Greek three Trojan ghosts attend, 560
This, my third victim, to the shades I send.
Approaching now, thy boasted might approve,
And try the prowess of the seed of Jove.
From Jove, enamour'd of a mortal dame,
Great Minos, guardian of his country, came:
Deucalion, blameless prince! was Minos' heir;
His first-born I, the third from Jupiter:
O'er spacious Crete and her bold sons I reign,
And thence my ships transport me through the

main:

Lord of a host, o'er all my host I shine,
A scourge to thee, thy father, and thy line.

The Trojan heard; uncertain, or to meet
Alone, with venturous arms, the king of Crete;
Or seek auxiliar force: at length decreed
To call some hero to partake the deed.
Forthwith Æneas rises to his thought:
For him, in Troy's remotest lines, he sought;
Where he, incensed at partial Priam, stands,
And sees superior posts in meaner hands.
To him, ambitious of so great an aid,
The bold Deïphobus approach'd and said:
Now, Trojan prince, employ thy pious arms,
If e'er thy bosom felt fair honour's charms.
Alcathous dies, thy brother and thy friend!
Come and the warrior's loved 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;
Haste, and revenge it on the insulting foe.
Æneas heard, and for a space resign'd
To tender pity all his manly mind;
Then, rising in his rage, he burns to fight:
The Greek awaits him, with collected might.
As the fell boar on some rough mountain's head,
Arm'd with wild terrors, and to slaughter bred,
When the loud rustics rise and shout from far,
Attends the tumult, and expects the war;
O'er his bent back the bristly horrors rise,
Fires stream in lightning from his sanguine eyes,
His foaming tusks both dogs and men engage,
But most his hunters rouse his mighty rage:
So stood Idomeneus, his javelin shook,
And met the Trojan with a lowering look,

570

580

590

600

Antilochus, Deïpyrus, were near,

The youthful offspring of the god of war,
Merion, and Aphareus, in field renown'd:
To these the warrior sent his voice around:
Fellows in arms! your timely aid unite;
Lo, great Æneas rushes to the fight:
Sprung from a god, and more than mortal bold;
He fresh in youth, and I in arms grown old.
Else should this hand, this hour, decide the strife,
The great dispute, of glory, or of life.

He spoke, and all as with one voice obey'd:
Their lifted bucklers cast a dreadful shade
Around the chief. Eneas too demands
The assisting forces of his native bands:
Paris, Deïphobus, Agenor join

(Co-aids and captains of the Trojan line ;)
In order follow all the embodied train;

Swift as the 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 waist his pious arms he threw,
And from the rage of combat gently drew:
610 Him his swift coursers, on his splendid car,
Rapt from the lessening thunder of the war;
To Troy they drove him, groaning, from the shore,
And sprinkling, as he pass'd, the sands with gore.
Meanwhile fresh slaughter bathes the sanguine
ground,

679

Heaps fall on heaps, and heaven and earth resound
Bold Aphareus by great Eneas bled;

690

As toward the chief he turn'd his daring head,
He pierced his throat; the bending head, depress'd
620 Beneath his helmet, nods upon his breast;
His shield reversed o'er the fallen warrior lies,
And everlasting slumber seals his eyes.
Antilochus, as Thoön turn'd him round,
Transpierced 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 social train
Spreads his imploring arms, but spreads in vain.
The exulting victor, leaping where he lay,

Like Ida's flocks proceeding o'er the plain:
Before his fleecy care, erect and bold,
Stalks the proud ram, the father of the fold:
With joy the swain surveys them, as he leads
To the cool fountains, through the well-known meads.
So joys Æneas, as his native band

Moves on in rank, and stretches o'er the land.
Round dead Alcathoüs now the battle rose;

On every side the steely circle grows:

Now batter'd breast-plates and hack'd helmets ring, From his broad shoulders tore the spoils away:

631

640

His time observed; for, closed by foes around,
On all sides thick, the peals of arms resound..
His shield, emboss'd, the ringing storm sustains 700
But he, impervious and untouch'd remains
(Great Neptune's care preserved from hostile rage
This youth, the joy of Nestor's glorious age.)
In arms intrepid, with the first he fought,
Faced every foe, and every danger sought:
His winged lance, resistless as the wind,
Obeys each motion of the master's mind,
Restless it flies, impatient to be free,
And meditates the distant enemy.

The son of Asius, Adamas, drew near,
And struck his target with the brazen spear
Fierce in his front: but Neptune wards the blow
And blunts the javelin of the eluded foe:
In the broad buckler half the weapon stood;
Splinter'd on earth flew half the broken wood.
Disarm'd, he mingled in the Trojan crew;
650 But Merion's spear o'ertook him as he flew,

And o'er their heads unheeded javelins sing.
Above the rest two towering chiefs appear,
There great Idomeneus, Æneas here;
Like gods of war, dispensing fate, they stood,
And burn'd to drench the ground with mutual blood.
The Trojan weapon whizz'd along in air,
The Cretan saw, and shunn'd the brazen spear:
Sent from an arm so strong, the missive wood
Struck deep in earth, and quiver'd where it stood.
But Enomas received the Cretan's stroke,
The forceful spear his hollow corselet broke,
It ripp'd his belly with a ghastly wound,
And roll'd the smoking entrails to the ground.
Stretch'd on the plain, he sobs away his breath,
And furious grasps the bloody dust in death.
The victor from his breast the weapon tears;
(His spoils he could not, for the shower of spears.)
Though now unfit an active war to wage,
Heavy with cumbrous arms, stiff with cold age,
His listless limbs unable for the course,
In standing fight he yet maintains his force:
Till, faint with labour, and by foes repell'd,
His tired slow steps he drags from off the field.
Deïphobus beheld him as he pass'd,
And, fired with hate, a parting javelin cast:
The javelin err'd, but held its course along,
And pierced Ascalaphus, the brave and young:
The son of Mars fell gasping on the ground,
And gnash'd the dust all bloody with his wound.
Nor knew the furious father of his fall;
High throned amidst the great Olympian hall,
On golden clouds the immortal synod sate;
Detain'd from bloody war by Jove and Fate.
Now, where in dust the breathless hero lay,
For slain Ascalaphus commenced the fray.
Deïphobus to seize his helmet flies,

And from his temples rends the glittering prize;
Valiant as Mars, Meriones drew near,
And on his loaded arm discharged his spear:
He drops the weight, disabled with the pain;
The hollow helmet rings against the plain.

660

710

720

Deep in the belly's rim an entrance found,
Where sharp the pang, and mortal is the wound.
Bending he fell, and doubled to the ground,
Lay panting. Thus an ox, in fetters tied,
While death's strong pangs distend his labouring side,
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 shadows swam before his view.
Next brave Deïpyrus in dust was laid:
King Helenus waved high the Thracian blade,
And smote his temples, with an arm so strong,
The helm fell off, and roll'd amid the throng:
There, for some luckier Greek it rests a prize:
For dark in death the godlike owner lies!
Raging with grief, great Menelaus burns,
And, fraught with vengeance, to the victor turns;
That shook the ponderous lance, in act to throw;
And this stood adverse with the bended bow:
670 Full on his breast the Trojan arrow fell,

But harmless bounded from the plated steel.

730

Harpalion had through Asia travell'd far,
Following his martial father to the war:
Through filial love he left his native shore,
Never, ah never, to behold it more!

His unsuccessful spear he chanced to fling
Against the target of the Spartan king:
Thus of his lance disarm'd, from death he flies,
And turns around his apprehensive eyes.

Pierced with his lance the hand that grasp'd the bow, Him, through the hip transpiercing as he fled, And nail'd it to the eugh: the wounded hand

The shaft of Merion mingled with the dead.

Trail'd the long lance that mark'd with blood the Beneath the bone the glancing point descends,

sand:

But good Agenor gently from the wound

The spear solicits, and the bandage bound;
A sling's soft wool, snatch'd from a soldier's side,
At once the tent and ligature supplied.

750

810

821

And, driving down, the swelling bladder rends:
Sunk in his sad companions' arms he lay,
And in short pantings sobb'd his soul away
(Like some vile worm extended on the ground;)
While life's red torrent gush'd from out the wound
Him on his car the Paphlagonian train
In slow procession bore from off the plain.
The pensive father, father now no more!
Attends the mournful pomp along the shore;
And unavailing tears profusely shed;
And, unrevenged, deplored his offspring dead.
Paris from far the moving sight beheld,
760 With pity soften'd, and with fury swell'd;

770

Behold! Pisander, urged 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 warrior came.
First the sharp lance was by Atrides thrown;
The lance far distant by the winds was blown.
Nor pierced Pisander through Atrides' shield;
Pisander's spear fell shiver'd on the field.
Not so discouraged, 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 sword.
His left arm high opposed the shining shield:
His right, beneath, the cover'd pole-axe held;
(An olive's cloudy grain the handle made,
Distinct with studs, and brazen was the blade ;)
This on the helm discharged a noble blow;
The plume dropp'd nodding to the plain below,
Shorn from the crest. Atrides waved his steel:
Deep through his front the weighty falchion fell:
The crashing bones before its force gave way:
In dust and blood the groaning hero lay;
Forced from their ghastly orbs, and spouting gore,
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 raped transcends a navy storm'd:
In such bold feats your impious might approve,
Without the assistance or the fear of Jove.
The violated rites, the ravish'd dame,
Our heroes slaughter'd, and our ships on flame,
Crimes heap'd on crimes, shall 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, supremely wise!
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 lust?
The best of things beyond their measure cloy,
Sleep's balmy blessing, love's endearing joy;
The feast, the dance; whate'er mankind desire,
E'en the sweet charms of sacred numbers tire.
But Troy for ever reaps a dire delight
In thirst of slaughter, and in lust of fight.

Oft had the father told his early doom,
By arms abroad, or slow disease at home:
He climb'd his vessel, prodigal of breath,
And chose the certain, glorious path to death. 840
Beneath his ear the pointed arrow went;
The soul came issuing at the narrow vent:
His limbs, unnerved, drop useless on the ground,
And everlasting darkness shades him round.

Nor knew great Hector how his legions yield
(Wrapp'd in the cloud and tumult of the field;)
Wide on the left the force of Greece commands,
780 And conquest hovers o'er the Achaian bands:
With such a tide superior virtue sway'd,
And he* that shakes the solid earth, gave aid. 850
But in the centre Hector fix'd remain'd,
Where first the gates were forced, and bulwarks gain'd.
There, on the margin of the hoary deep,
(Their naval station where the Ajaces keep,
And where low walls confine the beating tides,
Whose humble barrier scarce the foes divides;
Where late in fight, both foot and horse engaged,
790 And all the thunder of the battle raged)

There, join'd, the whole Boeotian strength remains,
The proud Ionians with their sweeping trains, 860
Locrians and Phthians, and the Epæan force;
But, join'd, repel not Hector's fiery course.
The flower of Atheus, Stichius, Phidas led,
Bias and great Menestheus at their head.
Meges the strong the Epeian bands controll'd,
And Dracius prudent, and Amphion bold:
The Phthians Medon, famed for martial might,
800 And brave Podarces, active in the fight.
This drew from Phylachus his noble line;
Iphiclus' son; and that (Oïleus) thine:

Thus said, he seized (while yet the carcass heaved)
The bloody armour, which his train received:
Then sudden mix'd among the warring crew,
And the bold son of Pylæmenes slew.

* Neptune.

870