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The son of Clytius in his daring hand,
(Thy arms no less suffice the lance to wield,) The deck approaching, shakes a flaming brand; And quit the quiver for the pondrous shield. But pierced by Telamon's huge lance expires; 490 In the first ranks indulge thy thirst of fame, Thundering he falls, and drops the extinguish'd fires. Thy brave example shall the rest inflame. Great Hector view'd him with a sad survey, Fierce as they are, by long successes vain;
560 As stretch'd in dust before the stern he lay. To force our fleet, or e'en a ship to gain, Oh! all of Trojan, all of Lycian race!
Asks toil, and sweat, and blood; their utmost might Stand to your arms, maintain this arduous space : Shall find its match-no more; 'tis ours to fight. Lo! where the son of royal Clytius lies;
Then Teucer laid his faithless bow aside; Ah save his arms, secure his obsequies.
The fourfold buckler o'er his shoulder tied, This said, his eager javelin sought the foe : On his brave head a crested helm he placed, But Ajax shunn'd the meditated blow.
With nodding horse-hair formidably graced : Not vainly yet the forceful lance was thrown; 500 A dart, whose point with brass refulgent shines, It stretch'd in dust unhappy Lycophron :
The warrior wields; and his great brother joins. An exile long, sustain'd at Ajax' board,
This Hector saw, and thus express'd his joy; 570 A faithful servant to a foreign lord ;
Ye troops of Lycia, Dardanus, and Troy!
Be mindful of yourselves, your ancient fame,
From the proud archer strike his vaunted bow. With anguish Ajax views the piercing sight, Indulgent Jove; how plain thy favours shine, And thus inflames his brother to the fight :
When happy nations bear the marks divine !
Such is the fate of Greece, and such is ours ; 580 To fight our wars, he left his native air.
Behold, ye warriors, and exert your powers. This death deplored, to Hector’s rage we owe; Death is the worst; a fate which all must try; Revenge, revenge it on the cruel foe.
And, for our country, 'tis a bliss to die. Where are those darts on which the Fates attend? The gallant man, though slain in fight he be, And where the bow which Phæbus taught to bend ? Yet leaves his nation safe, his children free Impatient Teucer hastening to his aid,
Entails a debt on all the grateful state ;
His own brave friends shall glory in his fate;
This roused the soul in every Trojan breast. 590
How long on these cursed confines will ye lie,
If once your vessels catch the Trojan fire?
Not to the dance that dreadful voice invites, 600 And gave, Astynous, to thy careful hand;
It calls to death, and all the rage of fights.
Once more bold Teucer, in his country's cause, And better far in one decisive strife,
And every kindling bosom pants for fame.
Chief of the foot, of old Antenor's race.
The fierce commander of the Epeian band.
His lance bold Meges at the victor threw : Some god prevents our destined enterprise ; The victor stooping, from the death withdrew. Some god, propitious to the Trojan foe, 550 | That valued life, O Phæbus, was thy care) Has from my arm unfailing, struck the bow, But Cresmus bosom took the flying spear : And broke the nerve my hands had twined with art, His corpse fell bleeding on the slippery shore; 620 Strong to impel the flight of many a dart.
His radiant arms triumpbant Meges bore, Since Heaven commands it (Ajax made reply) Dolops, the son of Lampus, rushes on, Dismiss thy bow, and lay thy arrows by ;
Sprung from the race of old Laomedon,
And famed for prowess in a well-fought field; | Advancing Melanippus met the dart
The victor leaps upon his prostrate prize ;
And hears the gathering multitude resound,
Now on the fleet the tides of Trojans drove,
The Grecian ardour quench'd in deep despair ;
Swells all their hearts and strengthens all their hands. For this, ia Priam's court he held his place, 650 On Ida's top he waits with longing eyes, Beloved no less than Priam's royal race.
To view the navy blazing to the skies;
Then, nor till then, the scale of war shall turn,
These fates revolved in his almighty mind,
He raises Hector to the work design'd, O'ermatch'd he falls ; to two at once a prey, Bids him with more than mortal fury glow, And lo! they bear the bloody arms away!
And drives him, like a lightning, on the foe.
So Mars, when human crimes for vengeance call,
Wraps the vast mountains, and involves the poles. Heaved from the lowest stone; and bury all He foams with wrath ; beneath his gloomy brow 730 In one sad sepulchre, one common fall.
Like fiery meteors his red eye-balls glow:
Waves when he nods, and lightens as he turns :
And gave what Fate allowed, the honours of a day!
Now all on fire for fame, his breast, his eyes Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame. Burn at each foe, and single every prize,
His generous sense he not in vain imparts ; Still at the closest ranks, the thickest fight, It sunk, and rooted in the Grecian hearts ;
He points his ardour and exerts his might. They join, they throng, they thicken at his call, The Grecian phalanx, moveless as a tower, And flank the navy with a brazen wall;
On all sides batter'd, yet resists his power : Shields touching shields, in order blaze above, So some tall rock o’erhangs the hoary main, And stop the Trojans though impell’d by Jove. By winds assail'd, by billows beat in vain, The fiery Spartan first, with loud applause, 680 Unmoved it hears, above, the tempest blow, Warms the bold son of Nestor in his cause. And sees the watery mountains break below. Is there (he said) in arms a youth like you, Girt in surrounding flames, he seems to fall, So strong to fight, so active to pursue ?
Like fire from Jove, and bursts upon them all:
He said ; and backward to the lines retired ; White are the decks with foam ; the winds aloud
As when a lion rushing from his den, 760 And now to this, and now to that he flies : Amidst the plain of some wide-water'd fen,
Admiring numbers follow with their eyes. (Where numerous oxen, as at ease they feed,
From ship to ship thus Ajax swiftly flew, 830 At large expatiate o'er the ranker mead,)
No less the wonder of the warring crew, Leaps on the herds before the herdsman's eyes : As furious Hector thunder'd threats aloud, The trembling herdsman far to distance flies : And rush'd enraged before the Trojan crowd: Some lordly bull (the rest dispersed and fled) Then swift invades the ships, whose beaky prores He singles out; arrests, and lays him dead. Lay rank'd contiguous on the bending shores: Thus from the rage of Jove-like Hector few So the strong eagle from his airy height, All Greece in heaps; but one he seized, and slew : Who marks the swans' or cranes' embodied fight, Mycenian Periphes, a mighty name,
770 Stoops down impetuous, while they light for food, In wisdom great, in arms well known to fame ; And, stooping, darkens with his wings the flood. The minister of stern Eurystheus' ire,
Jove leads him on with bis almighty hand, 840 Against Alcides, Copreus was his sire :
And breathes fierce spirits in his following band. The son redeem'd the honours of the race, The warring nations meet, the battle roars, A son as generous as the sire was base ;
Thick beats the combat on the sounding prores. O'er all his country's youth conspicuous far Thou wouldst have thought, so furious was their fire, In every virtue, or of peace or war:
No force could tame them, and no toil could tire; But doom'd to Hector's stronger force to yield ! As if new vigour from new fights they won, Against the margin of his ample shield
And the long battle was but then begun.
Secure of death, confiding in despair;
And each contends, as his were all the war. Chased from the foremost line, the Grecian train 'Twas thou, bold Hector! whose resistless hand Now man the next, receding toward the main : First seized a ship on that contested strand; Wedged in one body at the tents they stand, The same which dead Protesila üs bore, Wall'd round with sterns, a gloomy desperate band. The first that touch'd the unhappy Trojan shore: Now manly shame forbids the inglorious flight; 790 For this in arms the warring nations stood, Now fear itself confines them to the fight :
And bathed their generous breasts with mutual blood. Man courage breathes in man; but Nestor most No room to poise the lance or bend the bow, 860 (The sage preserver of the Grecian host)
But hand to hand, and man to man they grow : Exhorts, adjures, to guard these utmost shores ; Wounded they wound; and seek each other's hearts And by their parents, by themselves, implores. With falchions, axes, swords, and shorten'd darte.
O friends! be men : your generous breasts inflame The falchions ring, shields rattle, ases sound, With equal honour, and with mutual shame! Swords flash in air, or glitter on the ground: Think of your hopes, your fortunes; all the care With streaming blood the slippery shores are dyed, Your wives, your infants, and your parents share : And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide. Think of each living father's reverend head: 800 Still raging Hector with his ample hand Think of each ancestor with glory dead;
Grasps the high stern, and gives his loud command : Absent, by me they speak, by me they sue;
Haste, bring the flames! the toil of ten long years They ask their safety, and their fame from you: Is finish'd! and the day desired appears! 871 The gods their fates on this one action lay, This happy day with acclamations greet, And all are lost, if you desert the day.
Bright with destruction of yon hostile fleet. He spoke, and round him breathed heroic fires ; The coward counsels of a timorous throng Minerva seconds what the sage inspires.
of reverend dotards, check'd our glory long : The mist of darkness Jove around them threw Too long Jove lull'd us with lethargic charms, She clear'd, restoring all the war to view;
But now in peals of thunder calls to arms :
He spoke--the warriors, at his fierce command, 88C
Stepp'd back, and doubted or to live or die. A ponderous mace, with studs of iron crown'd, Yet where the oars are placed, he stapds to wait Full twenty cubits long, he swings around; What chief approaching dares attempt his fate : Nor fights like others fix'd to certain stands, E'en to the last his naval charge defends, But looks a moving tower above the bands : Now shakes his spear, now lifts, and now protends ; High on the deck, with vast gigantic stride, 820 E'en yet the Greeks with piercing shouts inspires, The godlike hero stalks from side to side.
Amidst attacks, and deaths, and darts, and fires : So when a horseman from the watery mead
O friends! O heroes! names for ever dear, 890 (Skill'd in the manage of the bounding steed) Once sons of Mars, and thunderbolts of war! Drives four fair coursers, practised to obey, Ah! yet be mindful of your old renown, To some great city through the public way; Your great forefathers' virtues and your own. Safe in his art, as side by side they run,
What aids expect you in this utmost strait ? He shifts his seat, and vaults from one to one; What bulwarks rising between you and fate ?
No aids, no bulwarks, your retreat attend;
Whate'er the cause, reveal thy secret care, No friends to help, no city to defend :
And speak those sorrows which a friend would share. This spot is all you have, to lose or keep;
A sigh, that instant, from his bosom broke, There stand the Trojans, and here rolls the deep Another follow'd, and Patroclus spoke: 30 'Tis hostile ground you tread; your native lands 900 Let Greece at length with pity touch thy breast, Far, far from hence : your fates are in your hands. Thyself a Greek; and, once, of Greeks the best!
Raging he spoke; nor farther wastes his breath, Lo! every chief that might her fate prevent, But turns his javelin to the work of death.
Lies pierced with wounds, and bleeding in his tent. Whate'er bold Trojan arm'd his daring hands, Eurypylus, Tydides, Atreus' son, Against the sable ships with flaming brands ; And wise Ulysses, at the navy groan, So well the chief his naval weapon sped,
More for their country's wounds, than for their own The luckless warrior at his stern lay dead :
Their pain, soft arts of pharmacy can ease, Full twelve, the boldest, in a moment fell,
Thy breast alone no lenitives appease.
May never rage like thine my soul enslave,
What friend, what man, from thee shall hope redress ?
No—men unborn, and ages yet behind,
Shall curse that fierce, that unforgiving mind. ARGUMENT.
O man unpitying! if of man thy race;
But sure thou spring'st not from a soft embrace, The sixth Battle; the Acts and Death of Patroclus.
Nor ever amorous hero caused thy birth, Patroclus (in pursuance of the request of Nestor in the Nor ever tender goddess brought thee forth. eleventh book) entreats Achilles to suffer him to go to Some rugged rock's hard entrails gave thee form, 50 the assistance of the Greeks with Achilles' troops and And raging seas produced thee in a storm, armour. He agrees to it, but at the same time charges him to content himself with rescuing the fleet, with.
A soul well-suiting that tempestuous kind, out further pursuitof the enemy. The armour, horses, So rough thy manners, so untamed thy mind. soldiers, and officers of Achilles are described. Achil. If some dire oracle thy breast alarm, les offers a libation for the success of his friend, after If aught from Jove, or Thetis, stop thy arm, which Patroclus leads the Myrmidons to battle. The Some beam of comfort yet on Greece may shine, Trojans, at the sight of Patroclus in Achilles's armour, If I but lead the Myrmidonian line: taking him for that hero, are cast into the utmost con. Clad in thy dreadful arms if I appear, sternation: he beats them off from the vessels. Hector Proud Troy shall tremble, and desert the war: himself flies. Sarpedon is killed, though Jupiter was Without thy person Greece shall win the day, averse to his fate. Several other particulars of the battle are described; in the heat of which, Patroclus, And thy mere image chace her foes away. neglecting the orders of Achilles, pursues the foe to Press'd by fresh forces, her o'erlabour'd train the walls of Troy; where Apollo repulses and disarms Shall quit the ships, and Greece respire again. him, Euphorbus wounds him, and Hector kills him; Thus, blind to Fate! with supplicating breath, which concludes the book.
Thou begg'st his arms, and in his arms thy death,
Thy friend return'd; and with it this reply:
Patroclus ! thy Achilles knows no fears ;
70 Meantime Patroclus to Achilles flies;
The tyrant's pride lies rooted in my breast. The streaming tears fall copious from his eyes ; My wrongs, my wrongs, my constant thought engage, Not faster trickling to the plains below,
Those, my sole oracles, inspire my rage. From the tall rock the sable waters flow.
I made him tyrant: gave him power to wrong Divine Pelides, with compassion moved,
E'en me: I felt it: and shall feel it long. Thus spoke, indulgent to his best beloved : The maid, my black-eyed maid, he forced away,
Patroclus, say, what grief thy bosom bears, Due to the toils of many a well-fought day; That flows so fast in these upmanly tears ? 10 Due to my conquest of her father's reign; No girl, no infant whom the mother keeps
Due to the votes of all the Grecian train. From her loved breast, with fonder passion weeps; From me he forced her; me, the bold and brave; 80 Not more the mother's soul that infant warms, Disgraced, dishonour'd, like the meanest slave. Clung to her knees, and reaching at her arms, But bear we this the wrongs I grieve are past : Than thou hast mine! Oh tell me, to what end 'Tis time our fury should relent at last : Thy melting sorrows thus pursue thy friend ? I fix'd its date; the day I wish'd appears : Grievest thou for me, or for my martial band ? Now Hector to my ships his battle bears, Or come sad tidings from our native land ? The flames pay eyos, the shouts invade my ears Our fathers live (our first, most tender care,) Go, then, Patroclus! court fair honour's charms The good Menatius breathes the vital air, 20 In Troy's famed fields, and in Achilles' arms: And hoary Peleus yet extends his days;
Lead forth my martial Myrmidons to fight, Pleased in their age to hear their children's praise.
Go, save the fleets, and conquer in my right. Or may some meaner cause thy pity claim? See the thin reliques of their baffled band, Perhaps yon relics of the Grecian name,
At the last edge of yon deserted land! Doom'd in their ships to sink by fire and sword, Behold all lion on their ships descends; And pay the forfeit of their haughty lord ? How the cloud blackens, how the storm impends!
It was not thus, when at my sight amazed, He cased his limbs in brass; and first around
Adorn'd in all his terrible array,
170 Commands your slaughter, or proclaims your death. He flash'd around intolerable day. Yet now, Patroclus, issue to the plain;
Alone, untouch'd, Pelides' javelin stands, Now save the ships, the rising fires restrain, Not to be poised but by Pelides' hands; And give the Greeks to visit Greece again. From Pelion's shady brow the plant entire, But heed my words, and mark a friend's command, Old Chiron rent, and shaped it for his sire; Who trusts his fame and honours in thy hand, Whose son's great arm alone the weapon wields, And from thy deeds expects the Achaian host 110 The death of heroes and the dread of fields. Shall render back the beauteous maid he lost. Then brave Automedon (an honour'd name, Rage uncontroll'd through all the hostile crew, The second to his lord in love and fame, But touch not Hector; Hector is my due.
In peace his friend, and partner of the war) 180 Though Jove in thunder should command the war, The winged coursers harness'd to the car; Be just, consult my glory, and forbear.
Xanthus and Balius, of immortal breed, The fleet once saved, desist from farther chase, Sprung from the wind, and like the wind in speed; Nor lead to lion's walls the Grecian race; Whom the wing'd Harpy, swift Podargè, bore, Some adverse god thy rashness may destroy; By Zephyr pregnant on the breezy shore: Some god, like Phæbus, ever kind to Troy. Swift Pedasus was added to their side Let Greece redeem'd from this destructive strait, 120|(Once great Aëtion’s, now Achilles' pride,) Do her own work; and leave the rest to Fate. Who, like in strength, in swiftness, and in grace, Oh! would to all the immortal powers above, A mortal courser, match'd the immortal race. Apollo, Pallas, and almighty Jove,
Achilles speeds from tent to tent, and warms
190 That not one Trojan might be left alive,
His hardy Myrmidons to blood and arms. And not a Greek of all the race survive;
All breathing death, around their chief they stand, Might only we the vast destryction shun,
A grim, terrific, formidable band : And only we destroy the accursed town.
Grim as voracious wolves, that seek the springs, Such conference held the chiefs : while on the When scalding thirst their burning bowels wrings; strand,
When some tall stag, fresh slaughter'd in the wood, Great Jove with conquest crown'd the Trojan band. Has drench'd their wild insatiate throats with blood, Ajax no more the sounding storm sustain'd, 130 To the black fount they rush, a hideous throng, So thick the darts an iron tempest rain'd:
With paunch distended, and with lolling tongue; On his tired arm the weighty buckler hung; Fire fills their eye, their black jaws belch the gore, His hollow helm with falling javelins rung; And, gorged with slaughter, still they thirst for His breath, in quick, short pantings, comes and goes ;
201 And painful sweat from all his members flows : Like furious rush'd the Myrmidonian crew, Spent and o'erpower'd, he barely breathes at most; Such their dread strength, and such their dreadful Yet scarce an army stirs him from his post :
view. Dangers on dangers all around him grow,
High in the midst the great Achilles stands, And toil to toil, and woe succeeds to woe. Directs their order, and the war commands.
Say, Muses, throned above the starry frame, 240 He, loved of Jove, had launch'd for Ilion's shores How first the navy blazed with Trojan flame? Full fifty vessels, mann'd with fifty oars :
Stern Hector waved his sword; and standing near Five chosen leaders the fierce bands obey,
Himself supreme in valour as in sway.
First march'd Menestheus, of celestial birth, 210 That the broad falchion lopp'd its brazen head: Derived from thee, whose waters wash the earth, His pointless spear the warrior shakes in vain ; Divine Spirchius ! Jove-descending flood ! The brazen head falls sounding on the plain. A mortal mother mixing with a god. Great Ajax saw, and own'd the hand divine, Such was Menestheus, but miscall’d by fame Confessing Jove, and trembling at the sign; The son of Borus, that espoused the dame. Warn'd he retreats. Then swift on all sides pour 150 Eudorus next; whom Polymele the gay, The hissing brands ; thick streams the fiery shower; Famed in the graceful dance, produced to day. O'er the high stern the curling volumes rise, Her, sly Cyllenius loved, on her would gaze, And sheets of rolling smoke involve the skies. As with swift step she form'd the running maze
Divine Achilles view'd the rising flames, To her high chamber from Diana's quire, 220 And smote his thigh, and thus aloud exclaims : The god pursued her, urged, and crown'd his fire, Arm, arm, Patroclus ! Lo, the blaze aspires ! The son confess'd his father's heavenly race, The glowing ocean reddens with the fires. And heir'd his mother's swiftness in the chase. Arm, ere our vessels catch the spreading flame; Strong Echecleüs, bless'd in all those charms Arm, ere the Grecians be no more a name; That pleased a god, succeeded to her arms; I haste to bring the troops—the hero said; 160 Not conscious of those loves, long hid from fame, The friend with ardour and with joy obey'd. With gifts of price he sought and won the dame;