THUS round Pelides breathing war and blood, | |
Greece, sheathed in arms, beside her vessels stood; | |
While, near impending from a neighbring height, | |
Troys black battalions wait the shock of fight. | |
Then Jove to Themis gives command, to call | 5 |
The Gods to council in the starry hall: | |
Swift oer Olympus hundred hills she flies, | |
And summons all the Senate of the Skies. | |
These, shining on, in long procession come | |
To Joves eternal adamantine dome. | 10 |
Not one was absent, not a rural Power | |
That haunts the verdant gloom, or rosy bower; | |
Each fair-haird Dryad of the shady wood, | |
Each azure sister of the silver flood; | |
All but old Ocean, hoary Sire! who keeps | 15 |
His ancient seat beneath the sacred deeps. | |
On marble thrones with lucid columns crownd | |
(The work of Vulcan) sat the Powers around. | |
Evn he, whose trident sways the watry reign, | |
Heard the loud summons, and forsook the main, | 20 |
Assumed his throne amid the bright abodes, | |
And questiond thus the Sire of men and Gods: | |
What moves the God who Heavn and earth commands, | |
And grasps the thunder in his awful hands, | |
Thus to convence the whole ethereal state? | 25 |
Is Greece and Troy the subject in debate? | |
Already met, the lowring hosts appear, | |
And death stands ardent on the edge of war. | |
T is true (the Cloud-compelling Power replies), | |
This day we call the Council of the skies | 30 |
In care of human race; evn Joves own eye | |
Sees with regret unhappy mortals die. | |
Far on Olympus top in secret state | |
Ourself will sit, and see the hand of Fate | |
Work out our will. Celestial Powers! descend, | 35 |
And, as your minds direct, your succour lend | |
To either host. Troy soon must lie oerthrown, | |
If uncontrolld Achilles fights alone: | |
Their troops but lately durst not meet his eyes; | |
What can they now, if in his rage he rise? | 40 |
Assist them, Gods! or Ilions sacred wall | |
May fall this day, tho Fate forbids the fall. | |
He said, and fired their Heavnly breasts with rage; | |
On adverse parts the warring Gods engage. | |
Heavns awful Queen; and he whose azure round | 45 |
Girds the vast globe; the Maid in arms renownd; | |
Hermes, of profitable arts the sire, | |
And Vulcan, the black Sovreign of the Fire: | |
These to the fleet repair with instant flight; | |
The vessels tremble as the Gods alight. | 50 |
In aid of Troy, Latona, Phbus came, | |
Mars fiery-helmd, the Laughter-loving Dame, | |
Xanthus, whose streams in golden currents flow, | |
And the chaste Huntress of the Silver Bow. | |
Ere yet the Gods their various aid employ, | 55 |
Each Argive bosom swelld with manly joy, | |
While great Achilles (terror of the plain) | |
Long lost to battle, shone in arms again. | |
Dreadful he stood in front of all his host; | |
Pale Troy beheld, and seemd already lost; | 60 |
Her bravest heroes pant with inward fear, | |
And trembling see another God of War. | |
But when the Powers descending swelld the fight, | |
Then tumult rose; fierce rage and pale affright | |
Varied each face; then discord sounds alarms, | 65 |
Earth echoes, and the nations rush to arms. | |
Now thro the trembling shores Minerva calls, | |
And now she thunders from the Grecian walls. | |
Mars, hovring oer his Troy, his terror shrouds | |
In gloomy tempests, and a night of clouds: | 70 |
Now thro each Trojan heart he fury pours | |
With voice divine from Ilions topmost towers; | |
Now shouts to Simois, from her beauteous hill; | |
The mountain shook, the rapid stream stood still. | |
Above, the Sire of Gods his thunder rolls, | 75 |
And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles. | |
Beneath, stern Neptune shakes the solid ground; | |
The forests wave, the mountains nod around; | |
Thro all their summits tremble Idas woods, | |
And from their sources boil her hundred floods. | 80 |
Troys turrets totter on the rocking plain; | |
And the tossd navies beat the heaving main. | |
Deep in the dismal regions of the dead, | |
Th Infernal Monarch reard his horrid head, | |
Leapd from his throne, lest Neptunes arm should lay | 85 |
His dark dominions open to the day, | |
And pour in light on Plutos drear abodes, | |
Abhorrd by men, and dreadful evn to Gods. | |
Such war th Immortals wage: such horrors rend | |
The worlds vast concave, when the Gods contend. | 90 |
First silver-shafted Phbus took the plain | |
Against blue Neptune, Monarch of the Main: | |
The God of Arms his giant bulk displayd, | |
Opposed to Pallas, Wars triumphant Maid. | |
Against Latona marchd the son of May; | 95 |
The quiverd Dian, sister of the Day | |
(Her golden arrows sounding at her side), | |
Saturnia, Majesty of Heavn, defied. | |
With fiery Vulcan last in battle stands | |
The sacred flood that rolls on golden sands; | 100 |
Xanthus his name with those of heavnly birth, | |
But calld Scamander by the sons of earth. | |
While thus the Gods in various league engage, | |
Achilles glowd with more than mortal rage: | |
Hector he sought; in search of Hector turnd | 105 |
His eyes around, for Hector only burnd; | |
And burst like lightning thro the ranks, and vowd | |
To glut the God of Battles with his blood. | |
Æneas was the first who dared to stay; | |
Apollo wedgd him in the warriors way, | 110 |
But swelld his bosom with undaunted might, | |
Half-forcd and half-persuaded to the fight. | |
Like young Lycaon, of the royal line, | |
In voice and aspect, seemd the Power divine; | |
And bade the Chief reflect, how late with scorn | 115 |
In distant threats he braved the Goddess-born. | |
Then thus the hero of Anchises strain: | |
To meet Pelides you persuade in vain; | |
Already have I met, nor void of fear | |
Observd the fury of his flying spear; | 120 |
From Idas woods he chased us to the field, | |
Our force he scatterd, and our herds he killd. | |
Lyrnessus, Pedasus in ashes lay; | |
But (Jove assisting) I survived the day. | |
Else had I sunk oppressd in fatal fight, | 125 |
By fierce Achilles and Minervas might. | |
Whereer he movd, the Goddess shone before, | |
And bathed his brazen lance in hostile gore. | |
What mortal man Achilles can sustain? | |
Th Immortals guard him thro the dreadful plain, | 130 |
And suffer not his dart to fall in vain. | |
Were God my aid, this arm should check his power, | |
Tho strong in battle as a brazen tower. | |
To whom the Son of Jove: That God implore, | |
And be what great Achilles was before. | 135 |
From heavnly Venus thou derivest thy strain, | |
And he but from a Sister of the Main; | |
An aged Sea-God father of his line, | |
But Jove himself the sacred source of thine. | |
Then lift thy weapon for a noble blow, | 140 |
Nor fear the vaunting of a mortal foe. | |
This said, and spirit breathed into his breast, | |
Thro the thick troops th emboldend hero pressd: | |
His venturous act the White-armd Queen surveyd, | |
And thus, assembling all the Powers, she said: | 145 |
Behold an action, Gods! that claims your care, | |
Lo, great Æneas rushing to the war; | |
Against Pelides he directs his course; | |
Phbus impels, and Phbus gives him force. | |
Restrain his bold career; at least, t attend | 150 |
Our favourd Hero, let some Power descend. | |
To guard his life, and add to his renown, | |
We, the great Armament of Heavn, came down. | |
Hereafter let him fall, as Fates design, | |
That spun so short his lifes illustrious line; | 155 |
But lest some adverse God now cross his way, | |
Give him to know what Powers assist this day: | |
For how shall mortal stand the dire alarms, | |
When Heavns refulgent host appear in arms? | |
Thus she, and thus the God whose force can make | 160 |
The solid globes eternal basis shake: | |
Against the might of man, so feeble known, | |
Why should celestial Powers exert their own? | |
Suffice, from yonder mount to view the scene; | |
And leave to war the fates of mortal men. | 165 |
But if th Armipotent, or God of Light, | |
Obstruct Achilles, or commence the fight, | |
Thence on the Gods of Troy we swift descend: | |
Full soon, I doubt not, shall the conflict end; | |
And these, in ruin and confusion hurld, | 170 |
Yield to our conquering arms the lower world. | |
Thus having said, the Tyrant of the Sea, | |
Crulean Neptune, rose, and led the way. | |
Advancd upon the field there stood a mound | |
Of earth congested, walld, and trenchd around; | 175 |
In elder times to guard Alcides made | |
(The work of Trojans with Minervas aid), | |
What time a vengeful monster of the main | |
Swept the wide shore, and drove him to the plain. | |
Here Neptune and the Gods of Greece repair, | 180 |
With clouds encompassd, and a veil of air: | |
The adverse Powers, around Apollo laid, | |
Crown the fair hills that silver Simois shade. | |
In circle close each heavnly party sat, | |
Intent to form the future scheme of Fate; | 185 |
But mix not yet in fight, tho Jove on high | |
Gives the loud signal, and the Heavns reply. | |
Meanwhile the rushing armies hide the ground; | |
The trampled centre yields a hollow sound: | |
Steeds cased in mail, and Chiefs in armour bright, | 190 |
The gleamy champaign glows with brazen light. | |
Amidst both hosts (a dreadful space!) appear | |
There, great Achilles; bold Æneas here. | |
With towring strides Æneas first advancd; | |
The nodding plumage on his helmet dancd; | 195 |
Spread oer his breast the fencing shield he bore, | |
And, as he movd, his javlin flamed before. | |
Not so Pelides: furious to engage, | |
He rushd impetuous. Such the lions rage, | |
Who, viewing first his foes with scornful eyes, | 200 |
Tho all in arms the peopled city rise, | |
Stalks careless on, with unregarding pride; | |
Till at the length, by some brave youth defied, | |
To his bold spear the savage turns alone; | |
He murmurs fury with a hollow groan: | 205 |
He grins, he foams, he rolls his eyes around; | |
Lashd by his tail, his heaving sides resound; | |
He calls up all his rage, he grinds his teeth, | |
Resolvd on vengeance, or resolvd on death. | |
So fierce Achilles on Æneas flies; | 210 |
So stands Æneas, and his force defies. | |
Ere yet the stern encounter joind, begun | |
The seed of Thetis thus to Venus son: | |
Why comes Æneas thro the ranks so far? | |
Seeks he to meet Achilles arm in war, | 215 |
In hope the realms of Priam to enjoy, | |
And prove his merits to the throne of Troy? | |
Grant that beneath thy lance Achilles dies, | |
The partial Monarch may refuse the prize; | |
Sons he has many: those thy pride may quell; | 220 |
And t is his fault to love those sons too well. | |
Or, in reward of thy victorious hand, | |
Has Troy proposed some spacious tract of land? | |
An ample forest, or a fair domain, | |
Of hills for vines, and arable for grain? | 225 |
Evn this, perhaps, will hardly prove thy lot. | |
But can Achilles be so soon forgot? | |
Once (as I think) you saw this brandishd spear, | |
And then the great Æneas seemd to fear. | |
With hearty haste from Idas mount he fled, | 230 |
Nor, till he reachd Lyrnessus, turnd his head. | |
Her lofty walls not long our progress stayd; | |
Those, Pallas, Jove, and we, in ruins laid: | |
In Grecian chains her captive race were cast; | |
T is true, the great Æneas fled too fast. | 235 |
Defrauded of my conquest once before, | |
What then I lost, the Gods this day restore. | |
Go; while thou mayst, avoid the threatend fate; | |
Fools stay to feel it, and are wise too late. | |
To this Anchises son: Such words employ | 240 |
To one that fears thee, some unwarlike boy; | |
Such we disdain; the best may be defied | |
With mean reproaches, and unmanly pride: | |
Unworthy the high race from which we came, | |
Proclaimd so loudly by the voice of Fame; | 245 |
Each from illustrious fathers draws his line; | |
Each Goddess-born; half human, half divine. | |
Thetis this day, or Venus offspring dies, | |
And tears shall trickle from celestial eyes: | |
For when two heroes, thus derived, contend, | 250 |
T is not in words the glorious strife can end. | |
If yet thou farther seek to learn my birth | |
(A tale resounded thro the spacious earth), | |
Hear how the glorious origin we prove | |
From ancient Dardanus, the first from Jove: | 255 |
Dardanias walls he raisd; for Ilion then | |
(The city since of many-languaged men) | |
Was not. The natives were content to till | |
The shady foot of Idas fountful hill. | |
From Dardanus, great Erichthonius springs, | 260 |
The richest once of Asias wealthy Kings; | |
Three thousand mares his spacious pastures bred, | |
Three thousand foals beside their mothers fed. | |
Boreas, enamourd of the sprightly train, | |
Conceald his Godhead in a flowing mane, | 265 |
With voice dissembled to his loves he neighd, | |
And coursd the dappled beauties oer the mead: | |
Hence sprung twelve others of unrivalld kind, | |
Swift as their mother mares and father wind. | |
These lightly skimming, when they swept the plain, | 270 |
Nor plied the grass, nor bent the tender grain; | |
And when along the level seas they flew, | |
Scarce on the surface curld the briny dew. | |
Such Erichthonius was: From him there came | |
The sacred Tros, of whom the Trojan name. | 275 |
Three sons renownd adornd his nuptial bed, | |
Ilus, Assaracus, and Ganymed: | |
The matchless Ganymed, divinely fair, | |
Whom Heavn, enamourd, snatchd to upper air, | |
To bear the cup of Jove (ethereal guest, | 280 |
The grace and glory of th ambrosial feast). | |
The two remaining sons the line divide: | |
First rose Laomedon from Ilus side: | |
From him Tithonus, now in cares grown old, | |
And Priam (best with Hector, brave and bold); | 285 |
Clytius and Lampus, ever-honourd pair; | |
And Hicetaon, thunderbolt of war. | |
From great Assaracus sprung Capys, he | |
Begat Anchises, and Anchises me, | |
Such is our race: t is Fortune gives us birth, | 290 |
But Jove alone endues the soul with worth: | |
He, source of power and might! with boundless sway | |
All human courage gives or takes away. | |
Long in the field of words we may contend, | |
Reproach is infinite, and knows no end, | 295 |
Armd or with truth or falsehood, right or wrong, | |
So voluble a weapon is the tongue; | |
Wounded, we wound; and neither side can fail, | |
For evry man has equal strength to rail: | |
Women alone, when in the streets they jar, | 300 |
Perhaps excel us in this wordy war; | |
Like us they stand, encompassd with the crowd, | |
And vent their anger, impotent and loud. | |
Cease then: our busness in the Field of Fight | |
Is not to question, but to prove our might. | 305 |
To all those insults thou hast offerd here | |
Receive this answer: t is my flying spear. | |
He spoke. With all his force the javlin flung, | |
Fixd deep, and loudly in the buckler rung. | |
Far on his outstretchd arm Pelides held | 310 |
(To meet the thundring lance) his dreadful shield, | |
That trembled as it struck; nor void of fear | |
Saw, ere it fell, th immeasurable spear. | |
His fears were vain; impenetrable charms | |
Secured the temper of th ethereal arms. | 315 |
Thro two strong plates the point its passage held, | |
But stoppd and rested, by the third repelld; | |
Five plates of various metal, various mould, | |
Composed the shield; of brass each outward fold, | |
Of tin each inward, and the middle gold: | 320 |
There stuck the lance. Then, rising ere he threw, | |
The forceful spear of great Achilles flew, | |
And piercd the Dardan shields extremest bound, | |
Where the shrill brass returnd a sharper sound: | |
Thro the thin verge the Pelian weapon glides, | 325 |
And the slight covring of expanded hides. | |
Æneas his contracted body bends, | |
And oer him high the riven targe extends, | |
Sees, thro its parting plates, the upper air, | |
And at his back perceives the quivring spear: | 330 |
A fate so near him chills his soul with fright, | |
And swims before his eyes the many-colourd light. | |
Achilles, rushing in with dreadful cries, | |
Draws his broad blade, and at Æneas flies: | |
Æneas, rousing as the foe came on | 335 |
(With force collected), heaves a mighty stone; | |
A mass enormous! which, in modern days | |
No two of earths degenrate sons could raise. | |
But oceans God, whose earthquakes rock the ground, | |
Saw the distress, and movd the Powers around: | 340 |
Lo! on the brink of fate Æneas stands, | |
An instant victim to Achilles hands; | |
By Phbus urged; but Phbus has bestowd | |
His aid in vain: the man oerpowers the God. | |
And can ye see this righteous Chief atone, | 345 |
With guiltless blood, for vices not his own? | |
To all the Gods his constant vows were paid; | |
Sure, tho he wars for Troy, he claims our aid. | |
Fate wills not this; nor thus can Jove resign | |
The future father of the Dardan line: | 350 |
The first great ancestor obtaind his grace, | |
And still his love descends on all the race. | |
For Priam now, and Priams faithless kind, | |
At length are odious to th all-seeing mind; | |
On great Æneas shall devolve the reign, | 355 |
And sons succeeding sons the lasting line sustain. | |
The great earth-shaker thus: to whom replies | |
Th imperial Goddess with the radiant eyes: | |
Good as he is, to immolate or spare | |
The Dardan Prince, O Neptune, be thy care; | 360 |
Pallas and I, by all that Gods can bind, | |
Have sworn destruction to the Trojan kind; | |
Not evn an instant to protract their fate, | |
Or save one member of the sinking state; | |
Till her last flame be quenchd with her last gore, | 365 |
And evn her crumbling ruins are no more. | |
The King of Ocean to the fight descends; | |
Thro all the whistling darts his course he bends, | |
Swift interposed between the warriors flies, | |
And casts thick darkness oer Achilles eyes. | 370 |
From great Æneas shield the spear he drew, | |
And at its masters feet the weapon threw. | |
That done, with force divine he snatchd on high | |
The Dardan Prince, and bore him thro the sky, | |
Smooth-gliding without step, above the heads | 375 |
Of warring heroes and of bounding steeds. | |
Till at the battles utmost verge they light, | |
Where the slow Caucons close the rear of fight: | |
The Godhead there (his heavnly form confessd) | |
With words like these the panting Chief addressd: | 380 |
What Power, O Prince, with force inferior far | |
Urged thee to meet Achilles arm in war? | |
Henceforth beware, nor antedate thy doom, | |
Defrauding Fate of all thy fame to come. | |
But when the day decreed (for come it must), | 385 |
Shall lay this dreadful hero in the dust, | |
Let then the furies of that arm be known, | |
Secure no Grecian force transcends thy own. | |
With that, he left him wondring as he lay, | |
Then from Achilles chased the mist away: | 390 |
Sudden, returning with the stream of light, | |
The scene of war came rushing on his sight. | |
Then thus amazed: What wonders strike my mind! | |
My spear, that parted on the wings of wind, | |
Laid here before me! and the Dardan lord, | 395 |
That fell this instant, vanishd from my sword! | |
I thought alone with mortals to contend, | |
But Powers celestial sure this foe defend. | |
Great as he is, our arm he scarce will try, | |
Content for once, with all his Gods, to fly. | 400 |
Now then let others bleed. This said, aloud | |
He vents his fury, and inflames the crowd: | |
O Greeks (he cries, and every rank alarms), | |
Join battle, man to man, and arms to arms! | |
T is not in me, tho favourd by the sky, | 405 |
To mow whole troops, and make whole armies fly: | |
No God can singly such a host engage, | |
Not Mars himself, nor great Minervas rage. | |
But whatsoeer Achilles can inspire, | |
Whateer of active force, or acting fire, | 410 |
Whateer this heart can prompt, or hand obey; | |
All, all Achilles, Greeks, is yours to-day. | |
Thro you wide host this arm shall scatter fear, | |
And thin the squadrons with my single spear. | |
He said: nor less elate with martial joy, | 415 |
The godlike Hector warmd the troops of Troy: | |
Trojans, to war! think Hector leads you on; | |
Nor dread the vaunts of Peleus haughty son. | |
Deeds must decide our fate. Evn those with words | |
Insult the brave, who tremble at their swords; | 420 |
The weakest atheist-wretch all Heavn defies, | |
But shrinks and shudders, when the thunder flies. | |
Nor from yon boaster shall your Chief retire, | |
Not tho his heart were steel, his hands were fire; | |
That fire, that steel, your Hector should withstand, | 425 |
And brave that vengeful heart, that dreadful hand. | |
Thus (breathing rage thro all) the hero said; | |
A wood of lances rises round his head, | |
Clamours on clamours tempest all the air; | |
They join, they throng, they thicken to the war. | 430 |
But Phbus warns him from high Heavn to shun | |
The single fight with Thetis godlike son: | |
More safe to combat in the mingled band, | |
Nor tempt too near the terrors of his hand. | |
He hears, obedient to the God of Light, | 435 |
And, plunged within the ranks, awaits the fight. | |
Then fierce Achilles, shouting to the skies, | |
On Troys whole force with boundless fury flies. | |
First falls Iphytion, at his armys head; | |
Brave was the Chief, and brave the host he led; | 440 |
From great Otrynteus he derived his blood, | |
His mother was a Naïs of the flood; | |
Beneath the shades of Tmolus, crownd with snow, | |
From Hydes walls he ruled the lands below. | |
Fierce as he springs, the sword his head divides; | 445 |
The parted visage falls on equal sides: | |
With loud resounding arms he strikes the plain; | |
While thus Achilles glories oer the slain: | |
Lie there, Otryntides! the Trojan earth | |
Receives thee dead, tho Gygæ boast thy birth; | 450 |
Those beauteous fields where Hyllus waves are rolld, | |
And plenteous Hermus swells with tides of gold, | |
Are thine no more. Th insulting hero said, | |
And left him sleeping in eternal shade. | |
The rolling wheels of Greece the body tore, | 455 |
And dashd their axles with no vulgar gore. | |
Demoleon next, Antenors offspring, laid | |
Breathless in dust, the price of rashness paid. | |
Th impatient steel with full descending sway | |
Forcd thro his brazen helm its furious way, | 460 |
Resistless drove the batterd skull before, | |
And dashd and mingled all the brains with gore. | |
This sees Hippodamas, and, seizd with fright, | |
Deserts his chariot for a swifter flight: | |
The lance arrests him; an ignoble wound | 465 |
The panting Trojan rivets to the ground. | |
He groans away his soul: not louder roars | |
At Neptunes shrine on Helices high shores | |
The victim bull; the rocks rebellow round, | |
And ocean listens to the grateful sound. | 470 |
Then fell on Polydore his vengeful rage, | |
The youngest hope of Priams stooping age | |
(Whose feet for swiftness in the race surpassd); | |
Of all his sons, the dearest and the last. | |
To the forbidden field he takes his flight | 475 |
In the first folly of a youthful knight; | |
To vaunt his swiftness wheels around the plain, | |
But vaunts not long, with all his swiftness slain; | |
Struck where the crossing belts unite behind, | |
And golden rings the double back-plate joind. | 480 |
Forth thro the navel burst the thrilling steel; | |
And on his knees with piercing shrieks he fell; | |
The rushing entrails pourd upon the ground | |
His hands collect: and darkness wraps him round. | |
When Hector viewd, all ghastly in his gore, | 485 |
Thus sadly slain, th unhappy Polydore; | |
A cloud of sorrow overcast his sight, | |
His soul no longer brookd the distant fight; | |
Full in Achilles dreadful front he came, | |
And shook his javlin like a waving flame. | 490 |
The son of Peleus sees, with joy possessd, | |
His heart high-bounding in his rising breast: | |
And, Lo! the man, on whom black fates attend; | |
The man that slew Achilles in his friend! | |
No more shall Hectors and Pelides spear | 495 |
Turn from each other in the walks of war. | |
Then with revengeful eyes he scannd him oer | |
Come, and receive thy Fate! He spake no more. | |
Hector, undaunted, thus: Such words employ | |
To one that dreads thee, some unwarlike boy: | 500 |
Such we could give, defying and defied, | |
Mean intercourse of obloquy and pride! | |
I know thy force to mine superior far; | |
But Heavn alone confers success in war; | |
Mean as I am, the Gods may guide my dart, | 505 |
And give it entrance in a braver heart. | |
Then parts the lance: but Pallas heavnly breath | |
Far from Achilles wafts the winged death: | |
The bidden dart again to Hector flies, | |
And at the feet of its great master lies. | 510 |
Achilles closes with his hated foe, | |
His heart and eyes with flaming fury glow: | |
But, present to his aid, Apollo shrouds | |
The favourd hero in a veil of clouds. | |
Thrice struck Pelides with indignant heart, | 515 |
Thrice in impassive air he plunged the dart: | |
The spear a fourth time buried in the cloud, | |
He foams with fury, and exclaims aloud: | |
Wretch! thou hast scaped again, once more thy flight | |
Has saved thee, and the partial God of Light; | 520 |
But long thou shalt not thy just Fate withstand, | |
If any Power assist Achilles hand. | |
Fly then inglorious; but thy flight this day | |
Whole hecatombs of Trojan ghosts shall pay. | |
With that he gluts his rage on numbers slain: | 525 |
Then Dryops tumbled to th ensanguind plain | |
Piercd thro the neck: he left him panting there, | |
And stoppd Demuchus, great Philetors heir, | |
Gigantic Chief! deep gashd th enormous blade, | |
And for the soul an ample passage made. | 530 |
Laogonus and Dardanus expire, | |
The valiant sons of an unhappy sire; | |
Both in one instant from the chariot hurld, | |
Sunk in one instant to the nether world; | |
This diffrence only their sad fates afford, | 535 |
That one the spear destroyd, and one the sword. | |
Nor less unpitied, young Alastor bleeds; | |
In vain his youth, in vain his beauty pleads: | |
In vain he begs thee, with a suppliants moan | |
To spare a form and age so like thy own! | 540 |
Unhappy boy! no prayer, no moving art | |
Eer bent that fierce inexorable heart! | |
While yet he trembled at his knees, and cried, | |
The ruthless falchion oped his tender side; | |
The panting liver pours a flood of gore, | 545 |
That drowns his bosom till he pants no more. | |
Thro Mulius head then drove th impetuous spear; | |
The warrior falls transfixd from ear to ear. | |
Thy life, Echeclus! next the sword bereaves; | |
Deep thro the front the pondrous falchion cleaves; | 550 |
Warmd in the brain the smoking weapon lies, | |
The purple death comes floating oer his eyes. | |
Then brave Deucalion died: the dart was flung | |
Where the knit nerves the pliant elbow strung: | |
He droppd his arm, an unassisting weight, | 555 |
And stood all impotent expecting Fate: | |
Full on his neck the falling falchion sped, | |
From his broad shoulders hewd his crested head: | |
Forth from the bone the spinal marrow flies, | |
And sunk in dust the corpse extended lies. | 560 |
Rhigmus, whose race from fruitful Thracia came | |
(The son of Pireus, an illustrious name), | |
Succeeds to Fate: the spear his belly rends; | |
Prone from his car the thundring Chief descends; | |
The squire who saw expiring on the ground | 565 |
His prostrate master, reind the steeds around. | |
His back scarce turnd, the Pelian javlin gored, | |
And stretchd the servant oer his dying lord. | |
As when a flame the winding valley fills, | |
And runs on crackling shrubs between the hills; | 570 |
Then oer the stubble up the mountain flies, | |
Fires the high woods, and blazes to the skies, | |
This way and that the spreading torrent roars; | |
So sweeps the hero thro the wasted shores: | |
Around him wide immense destruction pours, | 575 |
And earth is deluged with the sanguine showers. | |
As with autumnal harvests coverd oer, | |
And thick bestrown, lies Ceres sacred floor, | |
When round and round, with never-wearied pain, | |
The trampling steers beat out th unnumberd grain: | 580 |
So the fierce coursers, as the chariot rolls, | |
Tread down whole ranks, and crush out heroes souls. | |
Dashd from their hoofs, while oer the dead they fly, | |
Black, bloody drops the smoking chariot dye: | |
The spiky wheels thro heaps of carnage tore; | 585 |
And thick the groaning axles droppd with gore. | |
High oer the scene of death Achilles stood, | |
All grim with dust, all horrible in blood: | |
Yet still insatiate, still with rage on flame; | |
Such is the lust of never-dying Fame! | 590 |
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