Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring

Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly goddess, sing!

That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reign

The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain;

Whose limbs unburied on the naked shore,

Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore.[1]

Since great Achilles and Atrides strove,

Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove![2]

Declare, O Muse! in what ill-fated hour[3]

Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power

Latona's son a dire contagion spread,[4]

And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead;

The king of men his reverent priest defied,[5]

And for the king's offence the people died.

For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain

His captive daughter from the victor's chain.

Suppliant the venerable father stands;

Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands

By these he begs; and lowly bending down,

Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown

He sued to all, but chief implored for grace

The brother-kings, of Atreus' royal race[6]

“Ye kings and warriors! may your vows be crown'd,

And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground.

May Jove restore you when your toils are o'er

Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.

But, oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain,

And give Chryseis to these arms again;

If mercy fail, yet let my presents move,

And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove.”

The Greeks in shouts their joint assent declare,

The priest to reverence, and release the fair.

Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride,

Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied:

“Hence on thy life, and fly these hostile plains,

Nor ask, presumptuous, what the king detains

Hence, with thy laurel crown, and golden rod,

Nor trust too far those ensigns of thy god.

Mine is thy daughter, priest, and shall remain;

And prayers, and tears, and bribes, shall plead in vain;

Till time shall rifle every youthful grace,

And age dismiss her from my cold embrace,

In daily labours of the loom employ'd,

Or doom'd to deck the bed she once enjoy'd

Hence then; to Argos shall the maid retire,

Far from her native soil and weeping sire.”

The trembling priest along the shore return'd,

And in the anguish of a father mourn'd.

Disconsolate, not daring to complain,

Silent he wander'd by the sounding main;

Till, safe at distance, to his god he prays,

The god who darts around the world his rays.

“O Smintheus! sprung from fair Latona's line,[7]

Thou guardian power of Cilla the divine,[8]

Thou source of light! whom Tenedos adores,

And whose bright presence gilds thy Chrysa's shores.

If e'er with wreaths I hung thy sacred fane,[9]

Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain;

God of the silver bow! thy shafts employ,

Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks destroy.”

Thus Chryses pray'd.-the favouring power attends,

And from Olympus' lofty tops descends.

Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound;[10]

Fierce as he moved, his silver shafts resound.

Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread,

And gloomy darkness roll'd about his head.

The fleet in view, he twang'd his deadly bow,

And hissing fly the feather'd fates below.

On mules and dogs the infection first began;[11]

And last, the vengeful arrows fix'd in man.

For nine long nights, through all the dusky air,

The pyres, thick-flaming, shot a dismal glare.

But ere the tenth revolving day was run,

Inspired by Juno, Thetis' godlike son

Convened to council all the Grecian train;

For much the goddess mourn'd her heroes slain.[12]

The assembly seated, rising o'er the rest,

Achilles thus the king of men address'd:

“Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore,

And measure back the seas we cross'd before?

The plague destroying whom the sword would spare,

'Tis time to save the few remains of war.

But let some prophet, or some sacred sage,

Explore the cause of great Apollo's rage;

Or learn the wasteful vengeance to remove

By mystic dreams, for dreams descend from Jove.[13]

If broken vows this heavy curse have laid,

Let altars smoke, and hecatombs be paid.

So Heaven, atoned, shall dying Greece restore,

And Phoebus dart his burning shafts no more.”

He said, and sat: when Chalcas thus replied;

Chalcas the wise, the Grecian priest and guide,

That sacred seer, whose comprehensive view,

The past, the present, and the future knew:

Uprising slow, the venerable sage

Thus spoke the prudence and the fears of age:

“Beloved of Jove, Achilles! would'st thou know

Why angry Phoebus bends his fatal bow?

First give thy faith, and plight a prince's word

Of sure protection, by thy power and sword:

For I must speak what wisdom would conceal,

And truths, invidious to the great, reveal,

Bold is the task, when subjects, grown too wise,

Instruct a monarch where his error lies;

For though we deem the short-lived fury past,

'Tis sure the mighty will revenge at last.”

To whom Pelides:-“From thy inmost soul

Speak what thou know'st, and speak without control.

E'en by that god I swear who rules the day,

To whom thy hands the vows of Greece convey.

And whose bless'd oracles thy lips declare;

Long as Achilles breathes this vital air,

No daring Greek, of all the numerous band,

Against his priest shall lift an impious hand;

Not e'en the chief by whom our hosts are led,

The king of kings, shall touch that sacred head.”

Encouraged thus, the blameless man replies:

“Nor vows unpaid, nor slighted sacrifice,

But he, our chief, provoked the raging pest,

Apollo's vengeance for his injured priest.

Nor will the god's awaken'd fury cease,

But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires increase,

Till the great king, without a ransom paid,

To her own Chrysa send the black-eyed maid.[14]

Perhaps, with added sacrifice and prayer,

The priest may pardon, and the god may spare.”

The prophet spoke: when with a gloomy frown

The monarch started from his shining throne;

Black choler fill'd his breast that boil'd with ire,

And from his eye-balls flash'd the living fire:

“Augur accursed! denouncing mischief still,

Prophet of plagues, for ever boding ill!

Still must that tongue some wounding message bring,

And still thy priestly pride provoke thy king?

For this are Phoebus' oracles explored,

To teach the Greeks to murmur at their lord?

For this with falsehood is my honour stain'd,

Is heaven offended, and a priest profaned;

Because my prize, my beauteous maid, I hold,

And heavenly charms prefer to proffer'd gold?

A maid, unmatch'd in manners as in face,

Skill'd in each art, and crown'd with every grace;

Not half so dear were Clytaemnestra's charms,

When first her blooming beauties bless'd my arms.

Yet, if the gods demand her, let her sail;

Our cares are only for the public weal:

Let me be deem'd the hateful cause of all,

And suffer, rather than my people fall.

The prize, the beauteous prize, I will resign,

So dearly valued, and so justly mine.

But since for common good I yield the fair,

My private loss let grateful Greece repair;

Nor unrewarded let your prince complain,

That he alone has fought and bled in vain.”

“Insatiate king (Achilles thus replies),

Fond of the power, but fonder of the prize!

Would'st thou the Greeks their lawful prey should yield,

The due reward of many a well-fought field?

The spoils of cities razed and warriors slain,

We share with justice, as with toil we gain;

But to resume whate'er thy avarice craves

(That trick of tyrants) may be borne by slaves.

Yet if our chief for plunder only fight,

The spoils of Ilion shall thy loss requite,

Whene'er, by Jove's decree, our conquering powers

Shall humble to the dust her lofty towers.”

Then thus the king: “Shall I my prize resign

With tame content, and thou possess'd of thine?

Great as thou art, and like a god in fight,

Think not to rob me of a soldier's right.

At thy demand shall I restore the maid?

First let the just equivalent be paid;

Such as a king might ask; and let it be

A treasure worthy her, and worthy me.

Or grant me this, or with a monarch's claim

This hand shall seize some other captive dame.

The mighty Ajax shall his prize resign;[15]

Ulysses' spoils, or even thy own, be mine.

The man who suffers, loudly may complain;

And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain.

But this when time requires.-It now remains

We launch a bark to plough the watery plains,

And waft the sacrifice to Chrysa's shores,

With chosen pilots, and with labouring oars.

Soon shall the fair the sable ship ascend,

And some deputed prince the charge attend:

This Creta's king, or Ajax shall fulfil,

Or wise Ulysses see perform'd our will;

Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain,

Achilles' self conduct her o'er the main;

Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage,

At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied:

“O tyrant, arm'd with insolence and pride!

Inglorious slave to interest, ever join'd

With fraud, unworthy of a royal mind!

What generous Greek, obedient to thy word,

Shall form an ambush, or shall lift the sword?

What cause have I to war at thy decree?

The distant Trojans never injured me;

To Phthia's realms no hostile troops they led:

Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed;

Far hence removed, the hoarse-resounding main,

And walls of rocks, secure my native reign,

Whose fruitful soil luxuriant harvests grace,

Rich in her fruits, and in her martial race.

Hither we sail'd, a voluntary throng,

To avenge a private, not a public wrong:

What else to Troy the assembled nations draws,

But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother's cause?

Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve;

Disgraced and injured by the man we serve?

And darest thou threat to snatch my prize away,

Due to the deeds of many a dreadful day?

A prize as small, O tyrant! match'd with thine,

As thy own actions if compared to mine.

Thine in each conquest is the wealthy prey,

Though mine the sweat and danger of the day.

Some trivial present to my ships I bear:

Or barren praises pay the wounds of war.

But know, proud monarch, I'm thy slave no more;

My fleet shall waft me to Thessalia's shore:

Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain,

What spoils, what conquests, shall Atrides gain?”

To this the king: “Fly, mighty warrior! fly;

Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy.

There want not chiefs in such a cause to fight,

And Jove himself shall guard a monarch's right.

Of all the kings (the god's distinguish'd care)

To power superior none such hatred bear:

Strife and debate thy restless soul employ,

And wars and horrors are thy savage joy,

If thou hast strength, 'twas Heaven that strength bestow'd;

For know, vain man! thy valour is from God.

Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away;

Rule thy own realms with arbitrary sway;

I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate

Thy short-lived friendship, and thy groundless hate.

Go, threat thy earth-born Myrmidons:-but here[16]

'Tis mine to threaten, prince, and thine to fear.

Know, if the god the beauteous dame demand,

My bark shall waft her to her native land;

But then prepare, imperious prince! prepare,

Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive fair:

Even in thy tent I'll seize the blooming prize,

Thy loved Briseis with the radiant eyes.

Hence shalt thou prove my might, and curse the hour

Thou stood'st a rival of imperial power;

And hence, to all our hosts it shall be known,

That kings are subject to the gods alone.”

Achilles heard, with grief and rage oppress'd,

His heart swell'd high, and labour'd in his breast;

Distracting thoughts by turns his bosom ruled;

Now fired by wrath, and now by reason cool'd:

That prompts his hand to draw the deadly sword,

Force through the Greeks, and pierce their haughty lord;

This whispers soft his vengeance to control,

And calm the rising tempest of his soul.

Just as in anguish of suspense he stay'd,

While half unsheathed appear'd the glittering blade,[17]

Minerva swift descended from above,

Sent by the sister and the wife of Jove

(For both the princes claim'd her equal care);

Behind she stood, and by the golden hair

Achilles seized; to him alone confess'd;

A sable cloud conceal'd her from the rest.

He sees, and sudden to the goddess cries,

Known by the flames that sparkle from her eyes:

“Descends Minerva, in her guardian care,

A heavenly witness of the wrongs I bear

From Atreus' son? — Then let those eyes that view

The daring crime, behold the vengeance too.”

“Forbear (the progeny of Jove replies)

To calm thy fury I forsake the skies:

Let great Achilles, to the gods resign'd,

To reason yield the empire o'er his mind.

By awful Juno this command is given;

The king and you are both the care of heaven.

The force of keen reproaches let him feel;

But sheathe, obedient, thy revenging steel.

For I pronounce (and trust a heavenly power)

Thy injured honour has its fated hour,

When the proud monarch shall thy arms implores

And bribe thy friendship with a boundless store.

Then let revenge no longer bear the sway;

Command thy passions, and the gods obey.”

To her Pelides:-“With regardful ear,

'Tis just, O goddess! I thy dictates hear.

Hard as it is, my vengeance I suppress:

Those who revere the gods the gods will bless.”

He said, observant of the blue-eyed maid;

Then in the sheath return'd the shining blade.

The goddess swift to high Olympus flies,

And joins the sacred senate of the skies.

Nor yet the rage his boiling breast forsook,

Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke:

“O monster! mix'd of insolence and fear,

Thou dog in forehead, but in heart a deer!

When wert thou known in ambush'd fights to dare,

Or nobly face the horrid front of war?

'Tis ours, the chance of fighting fields to try;

Thine to look on, and bid the valiant die:

So much 'tis safer through the camp to go,

And rob a subject, than despoil a foe.

Scourge of thy people, violent and base!

Sent in Jove's anger on a slavish race;

Who, lost to sense of generous freedom past,

Are tamed to wrongs;-or this had been thy last.

Now by this sacred sceptre hear me swear,

Which never more shall leaves or blossoms bear,

Which sever'd from the trunk (as I from thee)

On the bare mountains left its parent tree;

This sceptre, form'd by temper'd steel to prove

An ensign of the delegates of Jove,

From whom the power of laws and justice springs

(Tremendous oath! inviolate to kings);

By this I swear:-when bleeding Greece again

Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain.

When, flush'd with slaughter, Hector comes to spread

The purpled shore with mountains of the dead,

Then shall thou mourn the affront thy madness gave,

Forced to deplore when impotent to save:

Then rage in bitterness of soul to know

This act has made the bravest Greek thy foe.”

He spoke; and furious hurl'd against the ground

His sceptre starr'd with golden studs around:

Then sternly silent sat. With like disdain

The raging king return'd his frowns again.

To calm their passion with the words of age,

Slow from his seat arose the Pylian sage,

Experienced Nestor, in persuasion skill'd;

Words, sweet as honey, from his lips distill'd:[18]

Two generations now had pass'd away,

Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway;

Two ages o'er his native realm he reign'd,

And now the example of the third remain'd.

All view'd with awe the venerable man;

Who thus with mild benevolence began: —

“What shame, what woe is this to Greece! what joy

To Troy's proud monarch, and the friends of Troy!

That adverse gods commit to stern debate

The best, the bravest, of the Grecian state.

Young as ye are, this youthful heat restrain,

Nor think your Nestor's years and wisdom vain.

A godlike race of heroes once I knew,

Such as no more these aged eyes shall view!

Lives there a chief to match Pirithous' fame,

Dryas the bold, or Ceneus' deathless name;

Theseus, endued with more than mortal might,

Or Polyphemus, like the gods in fight?

With these of old, to toils of battle bred,

In early youth my hardy days I led;

Fired with the thirst which virtuous envy breeds,

And smit with love of honourable deeds,

Strongest of men, they pierced the mountain boar,

Ranged the wild deserts red with monsters' gore,

And from their hills the shaggy Centaurs tore:

Yet these with soft persuasive arts I sway'd;

When Nestor spoke, they listen'd and obey'd.

If in my youth, even these esteem'd me wise;

Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise.

Atrides, seize not on the beauteous slave;

That prize the Greeks by common suffrage gave:

Nor thou, Achilles, treat our prince with pride;

Let kings be just, and sovereign power preside.

Thee, the first honours of the war adorn,

Like gods in strength, and of a goddess born;

Him, awful majesty exalts above

The powers of earth, and sceptred sons of Jove.

Let both unite with well-consenting mind,

So shall authority with strength be join'd.

Leave me, O king! to calm Achilles' rage;

Rule thou thyself, as more advanced in age.

Forbid it, gods! Achilles should be lost,

The pride of Greece, and bulwark of our host.”

This said, he ceased. The king of men replies:

“Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise.

But that imperious, that unconquer'd soul,

No laws can limit, no respect control.

Before his pride must his superiors fall;

His word the law, and he the lord of all?

Him must our hosts, our chiefs, ourself obey?

What king can bear a rival in his sway?

Grant that the gods his matchless force have given;

Has foul reproach a privilege from heaven?”

Here on the monarch's speech Achilles broke,

And furious, thus, and interrupting spoke:

“Tyrant, I well deserved thy galling chain,

To live thy slave, and still to serve in vain,

Should I submit to each unjust decree:

Command thy vassals, but command not me.

Seize on Briseis, whom the Grecians doom'd

My prize of war, yet tamely see resumed;

And seize secure; no more Achilles draws

His conquering sword in any woman's cause.

The gods command me to forgive the past:

But let this first invasion be the last:

For know, thy blood, when next thou darest invade,

Shall stream in vengeance on my reeking blade.”

At this they ceased: the stern debate expired:

The chiefs in sullen majesty retired.

Achilles with Patroclus took his way

Where near his tents his hollow vessels lay.

Meantime Atrides launch'd with numerous oars

A well-rigg'd ship for Chrysa's sacred shores:

High on the deck was fair Chryseis placed,

And sage Ulysses with the conduct graced:

Safe in her sides the hecatomb they stow'd,

Then swiftly sailing, cut the liquid road.

The host to expiate next the king prepares,

With pure lustrations, and with solemn prayers.

Wash'd by the briny wave, the pious train[19]

Are cleansed; and cast the ablutions in the main.

Along the shore whole hecatombs were laid,

And bulls and goats to Phoebus' altars paid;

The sable fumes in curling spires arise,

And waft their grateful odours to the skies.

The army thus in sacred rites engaged,

Atrides still with deep resentment raged.

To wait his will two sacred heralds stood,

Talthybius and Eurybates the good.

“Haste to the fierce Achilles' tent (he cries),

Thence bear Briseis as our royal prize:

Submit he must; or if they will not part,

Ourself in arms shall tear her from his heart.”

The unwilling heralds act their lord's commands;

Pensive they walk along the barren sands:

Arrived, the hero in his tent they find,

With gloomy aspect on his arm reclined.

At awful distance long they silent stand,

Loth to advance, and speak their hard command;

Decent confusion! This the godlike man

Perceived, and thus with accent mild began:

“With leave and honour enter our abodes,

Ye sacred ministers of men and gods![20]

I know your message; by constraint you came;

Not you, but your imperious lord I blame.

Patroclus, haste, the fair Briseis bring;

Conduct my captive to the haughty king.

But witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow,

Witness to gods above, and men below!

But first, and loudest, to your prince declare

(That lawless tyrant whose commands you bear),

Unmoved as death Achilles shall remain,

Though prostrate Greece shall bleed at every vein:

The raging chief in frantic passion lost,

Blind to himself, and useless to his host,

Unskill'd to judge the future by the past,

In blood and slaughter shall repent at last.”

Patroclus now the unwilling beauty brought;

She, in soft sorrows, and in pensive thought,

Pass'd silent, as the heralds held her hand,

And of look'd back, slow-moving o'er the strand.

Not so his loss the fierce Achilles bore;

But sad, retiring to the sounding shore,

O'er the wild margin of the deep he hung,

That kindred deep from whence his mother sprung:[21]

There bathed in tears of anger and disdain,

Thus loud lamented to the stormy main:

“O parent goddess! since in early bloom

Thy son must fall, by too severe a doom;

Sure to so short a race of glory born,

Great Jove in justice should this span adorn:

Honour and fame at least the thunderer owed;

And ill he pays the promise of a god,

If yon proud monarch thus thy son defies,

Obscures my glories, and resumes my prize.”

Far from the deep recesses of the main,

Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign,

The goddess-mother heard. The waves divide;

And like a mist she rose above the tide;

Beheld him mourning on the naked shores,

And thus the sorrows of his soul explores.

“Why grieves my son? Thy anguish let me share;

Reveal the cause, and trust a parent's care.”

He deeply sighing said: “To tell my woe

Is but to mention what too well you know.

From Thebe, sacred to Apollo's name[22]

(Aetion's realm), our conquering army came,

With treasure loaded and triumphant spoils,

Whose just division crown'd the soldier's toils;

But bright Chryseis, heavenly prize! was led,

By vote selected, to the general's bed.

The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts to gain

His beauteous daughter from the victor's chain;

The fleet he reach'd, and, lowly bending down,

Held forth the sceptre and the laurel crown,

Intreating all; but chief implored for grace

The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race:

The generous Greeks their joint consent declare,

The priest to reverence, and release the fair;

Not so Atrides: he, with wonted pride,

The sire insulted, and his gifts denied:

The insulted sire (his god's peculiar care)

To Phoebus pray'd, and Phoebus heard the prayer:

A dreadful plague ensues: the avenging darts

Incessant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts.

A prophet then, inspired by heaven, arose,

And points the crime, and thence derives the woes:

Myself the first the assembled chiefs incline

To avert the vengeance of the power divine;

Then rising in his wrath, the monarch storm'd;

Incensed he threaten'd, and his threats perform'd:

The fair Chryseis to her sire was sent,

With offer'd gifts to make the god relent;

But now he seized Briseis' heavenly charms,

And of my valour's prize defrauds my arms,

Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train;[23]

And service, faith, and justice, plead in vain.

But, goddess! thou thy suppliant son attend.

To high Olympus' shining court ascend,

Urge all the ties to former service owed,

And sue for vengeance to the thundering god.

Oft hast thou triumph'd in the glorious boast,

That thou stood'st forth of all the ethereal host,

When bold rebellion shook the realms above,

The undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove:

When the bright partner of his awful reign,

The warlike maid, and monarch of the main,

The traitor-gods, by mad ambition driven,

Durst threat with chains the omnipotence of Heaven.

Then, call'd by thee, the monster Titan came

(Whom gods Briareus, men AEgeon name),

Through wondering skies enormous stalk'd along;

Not he that shakes the solid earth so strong:

With giant-pride at Jove's high throne he stands,

And brandish'd round him all his hundred hands:

The affrighted gods confess'd their awful lord,

They dropp'd the fetters, trembled, and adored.[24]

This, goddess, this to his remembrance call,

Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall;

Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train,

To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main,

To heap the shores with copious death, and bring

The Greeks to know the curse of such a king.

Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head

O'er all his wide dominion of the dead,

And mourn in blood that e'er he durst disgrace

The boldest warrior of the Grecian race.”

“Unhappy son! (fair Thetis thus replies,

While tears celestial trickle from her eyes)

Why have I borne thee with a mother's throes,

To Fates averse, and nursed for future woes?[25]

So short a space the light of heaven to view!

So short a space! and fill'd with sorrow too!

O might a parent's careful wish prevail,

Far, far from Ilion should thy vessels sail,

And thou, from camps remote, the danger shun

Which now, alas! too nearly threats my son.

Yet (what I can) to move thy suit I'll go

To great Olympus crown'd with fleecy snow.

Meantime, secure within thy ships, from far

Behold the field, not mingle in the war.

The sire of gods and all the ethereal train,

On the warm limits of the farthest main,

Now mix with mortals, nor disdain to grace

The feasts of AEthiopia's blameless race,[26]

Twelve days the powers indulge the genial rite,

Returning with the twelfth revolving light.

Then will I mount the brazen dome, and move

The high tribunal of immortal Jove.”

The goddess spoke: the rolling waves unclose;

Then down the steep she plunged from whence she rose,

And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast,

In wild resentment for the fair he lost.

In Chrysa's port now sage Ulysses rode;

Beneath the deck the destined victims stow'd:

The sails they furl'd, they lash the mast aside,

And dropp'd their anchors, and the pinnace tied.

Next on the shore their hecatomb they land;

Chryseis last descending on the strand.

Her, thus returning from the furrow'd main,

Ulysses led to Phoebus' sacred fane;

Where at his solemn altar, as the maid

He gave to Chryses, thus the hero said:

“Hail, reverend priest! to Phoebus' awful dome

A suppliant I from great Atrides come:

Unransom'd, here receive the spotless fair;

Accept the hecatomb the Greeks prepare;

And may thy god who scatters darts around,

Atoned by sacrifice, desist to wound.”[27]

At this, the sire embraced the maid again,

So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain.

Then near the altar of the darting king,

Disposed in rank their hecatomb they bring;

With water purify their hands, and take

The sacred offering of the salted cake;

While thus with arms devoutly raised in air,

And solemn voice, the priest directs his prayer:

“God of the silver bow, thy ear incline,

Whose power incircles Cilla the divine;

Whose sacred eye thy Tenedos surveys,

And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguish'd rays!

If, fired to vengeance at thy priest's request,

Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest:

Once more attend! avert the wasteful woe,

And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow.”

So Chryses pray'd. Apollo heard his prayer:

And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare;

Between their horns the salted barley threw,

And, with their heads to heaven, the victims slew:[28]

The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide;

The thighs, selected to the gods, divide:

On these, in double cauls involved with art,

The choicest morsels lay from every part.

The priest himself before his altar stands,

And burns the offering with his holy hands.

Pours the black wine, and sees the flames aspire;

The youth with instruments surround the fire:

The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dress'd,

The assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest:

Then spread the tables, the repast prepare;

Each takes his seat, and each receives his share.

When now the rage of hunger was repress'd,

With pure libations they conclude the feast;

The youths with wine the copious goblets crown'd,

And, pleased, dispense the flowing bowls around;[29]

With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends,

The paeans lengthen'd till the sun descends:

The Greeks, restored, the grateful notes prolong;

Apollo listens, and approves the song.

'Twas night; the chiefs beside their vessel lie,

Till rosy morn had purpled o'er the sky:

Then launch, and hoist the mast: indulgent gales,

Supplied by Phoebus, fill the swelling sails;

The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow,

The parted ocean foams and roars below:

Above the bounding billows swift they flew,

Till now the Grecian camp appear'd in view.

Far on the beach they haul their bark to land,

(The crooked keel divides the yellow sand,)

Then part, where stretch'd along the winding bay,

The ships and tents in mingled prospect lay.

But raging still, amidst his navy sat

The stern Achilles, stedfast in his hate;

Nor mix'd in combat, nor in council join'd;

But wasting cares lay heavy on his mind:

In his black thoughts revenge and slaughter roll,

And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his soul.

Twelve days were past, and now the dawning light

The gods had summon'd to the Olympian height:

Jove, first ascending from the watery bowers,

Leads the long order of ethereal powers.

When, like the morning-mist in early day,

Rose from the flood the daughter of the sea:

And to the seats divine her flight address'd.

There, far apart, and high above the rest,

The thunderer sat; where old Olympus shrouds

His hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds.

Suppliant the goddess stood: one hand she placed

Beneath his beard, and one his knees embraced.

“If e'er, O father of the gods! (she said)

My words could please thee, or my actions aid,

Some marks of honour on my son bestow,

And pay in glory what in life you owe.

Fame is at least by heavenly promise due

To life so short, and now dishonour'd too.

Avenge this wrong, O ever just and wise!

Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rise;

Till the proud king and all the Achaian race

Shall heap with honours him they now disgrace.”

Thus Thetis spoke; but Jove in silence held

The sacred counsels of his breast conceal'd.

Not so repulsed, the goddess closer press'd,

Still grasp'd his knees, and urged the dear request.

“O sire of gods and men! thy suppliant hear;

Refuse, or grant; for what has Jove to fear?

Or oh! declare, of all the powers above,

Is wretched Thetis least the care of Jove?”

She said; and, sighing, thus the god replies,

Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted skies:

“What hast thou ask'd? ah, why should Jove engage

In foreign contests and domestic rage,

The gods' complaints, and Juno's fierce alarms,

While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms?

Go, lest the haughty partner of my sway

With jealous eyes thy close access survey;

But part in peace, secure thy prayer is sped:

Witness the sacred honours of our head,

The nod that ratifies the will divine,

The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable sign;

This seals thy suit, and this fulfils thy vows”

He spoke, and awful bends his sable brows,[30]

Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod,

The stamp of fate and sanction of the god:

High heaven with trembling the dread signal took,

And all Olympus to the centre shook.[31]

Swift to the seas profound the goddess flies,

Jove to his starry mansions in the skies.

The shining synod of the immortals wait

The coming god, and from their thrones of state

Arising silent, wrapp'd in holy fear,

Before the majesty of heaven appear.

Trembling they stand, while Jove assumes the throne,

All, but the god's imperious queen alone:

Late had she view'd the silver-footed dame,

And all her passions kindled into flame.

“Say, artful manager of heaven (she cries),

Who now partakes the secrets of the skies?

Thy Juno knows not the decrees of fate,

In vain the partner of imperial state.

What favourite goddess then those cares divides,

Which Jove in prudence from his consort hides?”

To this the thunderer: “Seek not thou to find

The sacred counsels of almighty mind:

Involved in darkness likes the great decree,

Nor can the depths of fate be pierced by thee.

What fits thy knowledge, thou the first shalt know;

The first of gods above, and men below;

But thou, nor they, shall search the thoughts that roll

Deep in the close recesses of my soul.”

Full on the sire the goddess of the skies

Roll'd the large orbs of her majestic eyes,

And thus return'd:-“Austere Saturnius, say,

From whence this wrath, or who controls thy sway?

Thy boundless will, for me, remains in force,

And all thy counsels take the destined course.

But 'tis for Greece I fear: for late was seen,

In close consult, the silver-footed queen.

Jove to his Thetis nothing could deny,

Nor was the signal vain that shook the sky.

What fatal favour has the goddess won,

To grace her fierce, inexorable son?

Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench the plain,

And glut his vengeance with my people slain.”

Then thus the god: “O restless fate of pride,

That strives to learn what heaven resolves to hide;

Vain is the search, presumptuous and abhorr'd,

Anxious to thee, and odious to thy lord.

Let this suffice: the immutable decree

No force can shake: what is, that ought to be.

Goddess, submit; nor dare our will withstand,

But dread the power of this avenging hand:

The united strength of all the gods above

In vain resists the omnipotence of Jove.”

The thunderer spoke, nor durst the queen reply;

A reverent horror silenced all the sky.

The feast disturb'd, with sorrow Vulcan saw

His mother menaced, and the gods in awe;

Peace at his heart, and pleasure his design,

Thus interposed the architect divine:

“The wretched quarrels of the mortal state

Are far unworthy, gods! of your debate:

Let men their days in senseless strife employ,

We, in eternal peace and constant joy.

Thou, goddess-mother, with our sire comply,

Nor break the sacred union of the sky:

Lest, roused to rage, he shake the bless'd abodes,

Launch the red lightning, and dethrone the gods.

If you submit, the thunderer stands appeased;

The gracious power is willing to be pleased.”

Thus Vulcan spoke: and rising with a bound,

The double bowl with sparkling nectar crown'd,[32]

Which held to Juno in a cheerful way,

“Goddess (he cried), be patient and obey.

Dear as you are, if Jove his arm extend,

I can but grieve, unable to defend

What god so daring in your aid to move,

Or lift his hand against the force of Jove?

Once in your cause I felt his matchless might,

Hurl'd headlong down from the ethereal height;[33]

Toss'd all the day in rapid circles round,

Nor till the sun descended touch'd the ground.

Breathless I fell, in giddy motion lost;

The Sinthians raised me on the Lemnian coast;[34]

He said, and to her hands the goblet heaved,

Which, with a smile, the white-arm'd queen received

Then, to the rest he fill'd; and in his turn,

Each to his lips applied the nectar'd urn,

Vulcan with awkward grace his office plies,

And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the skies.

Thus the blest gods the genial day prolong,

In feasts ambrosial, and celestial song.[35]

Apollo tuned the lyre; the Muses round

With voice alternate aid the silver sound.

Meantime the radiant sun to mortal sight

Descending swift, roll'd down the rapid light:

Then to their starry domes the gods depart,

The shining monuments of Vulcan's art:

Jove on his couch reclined his awful head,

And Juno slumber'd on the golden bed.

Now pleasing sleep had seal'd each mortal eye,

Stretch'd in the tents the Grecian leaders lie:

The immortals slumber'd on their thrones above;

All, but the ever-wakeful eyes of Jove.[36]

To honour Thetis' son he bends his care,

And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war:

Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight,

And thus commands the vision of the night.

“Fly hence, deluding Dream! and light as air,[37]

To Agamemnon's ample tent repair.

Bid him in arms draw forth the embattled train,

Lead all his Grecians to the dusty plain.

Declare, e'en now 'tis given him to destroy

The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy.

For now no more the gods with fate contend,

At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end.

Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall,

And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall.”

Swift as the word the vain illusion fled,

Descends, and hovers o'er Atrides' head;

Clothed in the figure of the Pylian sage,

Renown'd for wisdom, and revered for age:

Around his temples spreads his golden wing,

And thus the flattering dream deceives the king.

“Canst thou, with all a monarch's cares oppress'd,

O Atreus' son! canst thou indulge the rest?[38]

Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides,

Directs in council, and in war presides,

To whom its safety a whole people owes,

To waste long nights in indolent repose.[39]

Monarch, awake! 'tis Jove's command I bear;

Thou, and thy glory, claim his heavenly care.

In just array draw forth the embattled train,

Lead all thy Grecians to the dusty plain;

E'en now, O king! 'tis given thee to destroy

The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy.

For now no more the gods with fate contend,

At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end.

Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall,

And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall.

Awake, but waking this advice approve,

And trust the vision that descends from Jove.”

The phantom said; then vanish'd from his sight,

Resolves to air, and mixes with the night.

A thousand schemes the monarch's mind employ;

Elate in thought he sacks untaken Troy:

Vain as he was, and to the future blind,

Nor saw what Jove and secret fate design'd,

What mighty toils to either host remain,

What scenes of grief, and numbers of the slain!

Eager he rises, and in fancy hears

The voice celestial murmuring in his ears.

First on his limbs a slender vest he drew,

Around him next the regal mantle threw,

The embroider'd sandals on his feet were tied;

The starry falchion glitter'd at his side;

And last, his arm the massy sceptre loads,

Unstain'd, immortal, and the gift of gods.

Now rosy Morn ascends the court of Jove,

Lifts up her light, and opens day above.

The king despatch'd his heralds with commands

To range the camp and summon all the bands:

The gathering hosts the monarch's word obey;

While to the fleet Atrides bends his way.

In his black ship the Pylian prince he found;

There calls a senate of the peers around:

The assembly placed, the king of men express'd

The counsels labouring in his artful breast.

“Friends and confederates! with attentive ear

Receive my words, and credit what you hear.

Late as I slumber'd in the shades of night,

A dream divine appear'd before my sight;

Whose visionary form like Nestor came,

The same in habit, and in mien the same.[40]

The heavenly phantom hover'd o'er my head,

'And, dost thou sleep, O Atreus' son? (he said)

Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides,

Directs in council, and in war presides;

To whom its safety a whole people owes,

To waste long nights in indolent repose.

Monarch, awake! 'tis Jove's command I bear,

Thou and thy glory claim his heavenly care.

In just array draw forth the embattled train,

And lead the Grecians to the dusty plain;

E'en now, O king! 'tis given thee to destroy

The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy.

For now no more the gods with fate contend,

At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end.

Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall,

And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall.

This hear observant, and the gods obey!'

The vision spoke, and pass'd in air away.

Now, valiant chiefs! since heaven itself alarms,

Unite, and rouse the sons of Greece to arms.

But first, with caution, try what yet they dare,

Worn with nine years of unsuccessful war.

To move the troops to measure back the main,

Be mine; and yours the province to detain.”

He spoke, and sat: when Nestor, rising said,

(Nestor, whom Pylos' sandy realms obey'd,)

“Princes of Greece, your faithful ears incline,

Nor doubt the vision of the powers divine;

Sent by great Jove to him who rules the host,

Forbid it, heaven! this warning should be lost!

Then let us haste, obey the god's alarms,

And join to rouse the sons of Greece to arms.”

Thus spoke the sage: the kings without delay

Dissolve the council, and their chief obey:

The sceptred rulers lead; the following host,

Pour'd forth by thousands, darkens all the coast.

As from some rocky cleft the shepherd sees

Clustering in heaps on heaps the driving bees,

Rolling and blackening, swarms succeeding swarms,

With deeper murmurs and more hoarse alarms;

Dusky they spread, a close embodied crowd,

And o'er the vale descends the living cloud.[41]

So, from the tents and ships, a lengthen'd train

Spreads all the beach, and wide o'ershades the plain:

Along the region runs a deafening sound;

Beneath their footsteps groans the trembling ground.

Fame flies before the messenger of Jove,

And shining soars, and claps her wings above.

Nine sacred heralds now, proclaiming loud[42]

The monarch's will, suspend the listening crowd.

Soon as the throngs in order ranged appear,

And fainter murmurs died upon the ear,

The king of kings his awful figure raised:

High in his hand the golden sceptre blazed;

The golden sceptre, of celestial flame,

By Vulcan form'd, from Jove to Hermes came.

To Pelops he the immortal gift resign'd;

The immortal gift great Pelops left behind,

In Atreus' hand, which not with Atreus ends,

To rich Thyestes next the prize descends;

And now the mark of Agamemnon's reign,

Subjects all Argos, and controls the main.[43]

On this bright sceptre now the king reclined,

And artful thus pronounced the speech design'd:

“Ye sons of Mars, partake your leader's care,

Heroes of Greece, and brothers of the war!

Of partial Jove with justice I complain,

And heavenly oracles believed in vain

A safe return was promised to our toils,

Renown'd, triumphant, and enrich'd with spoils.

Now shameful flight alone can save the host,

Our blood, our treasure, and our glory lost.

So Jove decrees, resistless lord of all!

At whose command whole empires rise or fall:

He shakes the feeble props of human trust,

And towns and armies humbles to the dust

What shame to Greece a fruitful war to wage,

Oh, lasting shame in every future age!

Once great in arms, the common scorn we grow,

Repulsed and baffled by a feeble foe.

So small their number, that if wars were ceased,

And Greece triumphant held a general feast,

All rank'd by tens, whole decades when they dine

Must want a Trojan slave to pour the wine.[44]

But other forces have our hopes o'erthrown,

And Troy prevails by armies not her own.

Now nine long years of mighty Jove are run,

Since first the labours of this war begun:

Our cordage torn, decay'd our vessels lie,

And scarce insure the wretched power to fly.

Haste, then, for ever leave the Trojan wall!

Our weeping wives, our tender children call:

Love, duty, safety, summon us away,

'Tis nature's voice, and nature we obey,

Our shatter'd barks may yet transport us o'er,

Safe and inglorious, to our native shore.

Fly, Grecians, fly, your sails and oars employ,

And dream no more of heaven-defended Troy.”

His deep design unknown, the hosts approve

Atrides' speech. The mighty numbers move.

So roll the billows to the Icarian shore,

From east and south when winds begin to roar,

Burst their dark mansions in the clouds, and sweep

The whitening surface of the ruffled deep.

And as on corn when western gusts descend,[45]

Before the blast the lofty harvests bend:

Thus o'er the field the moving host appears,

With nodding plumes and groves of waving spears.

The gathering murmur spreads, their trampling feet

Beat the loose sands, and thicken to the fleet;

With long-resounding cries they urge the train

To fit the ships, and launch into the main.

They toil, they sweat, thick clouds of dust arise,

The doubling clamours echo to the skies.

E'en then the Greeks had left the hostile plain,

And fate decreed the fall of Troy in vain;

But Jove's imperial queen their flight survey'd,

And sighing thus bespoke the blue-eyed maid:

“Shall then the Grecians fly! O dire disgrace!

And leave unpunish'd this perfidious race?

Shall Troy, shall Priam, and the adulterous spouse,

In peace enjoy the fruits of broken vows?

And bravest chiefs, in Helen's quarrel slain,

Lie unrevenged on yon detested plain?

No: let my Greeks, unmoved by vain alarms,

Once more refulgent shine in brazen arms.

Haste, goddess, haste! the flying host detain,

Nor let one sail be hoisted on the main.”

Pallas obeys, and from Olympus' height

Swift to the ships precipitates her flight.

Ulysses, first in public cares, she found,

For prudent counsel like the gods renown'd:

Oppress'd with generous grief the hero stood,

Nor drew his sable vessels to the flood.

“And is it thus, divine Laertes' son,

Thus fly the Greeks (the martial maid begun),

Thus to their country bear their own disgrace,

And fame eternal leave to Priam's race?

Shall beauteous Helen still remain unfreed,

Still unrevenged, a thousand heroes bleed!

Haste, generous Ithacus! prevent the shame,

Recall your armies, and your chiefs reclaim.

Your own resistless eloquence employ,

And to the immortals trust the fall of Troy.”

The voice divine confess'd the warlike maid,

Ulysses heard, nor uninspired obey'd:

Then meeting first Atrides, from his hand

Received the imperial sceptre of command.

Thus graced, attention and respect to gain,

He runs, he flies through all the Grecian train;

Each prince of name, or chief in arms approved,

He fired with praise, or with persuasion moved.

“Warriors like you, with strength and wisdom bless'd,

By brave examples should confirm the rest.

The monarch's will not yet reveal'd appears;

He tries our courage, but resents our fears.

The unwary Greeks his fury may provoke;

Not thus the king in secret council spoke.

Jove loves our chief, from Jove his honour springs,

Beware! for dreadful is the wrath of kings.”

But if a clamorous vile plebeian rose,

Him with reproof he check'd or tamed with blows.

“Be still, thou slave, and to thy betters yield;

Unknown alike in council and in field!

Ye gods, what dastards would our host command!

Swept to the war, the lumber of a land.

Be silent, wretch, and think not here allow'd

That worst of tyrants, an usurping crowd.

To one sole monarch Jove commits the sway;

His are the laws, and him let all obey.”[46]

With words like these the troops Ulysses ruled,

The loudest silenced, and the fiercest cool'd.

Back to the assembly roll the thronging train,

Desert the ships, and pour upon the plain.

Murmuring they move, as when old ocean roars,

And heaves huge surges to the trembling shores;

The groaning banks are burst with bellowing sound,

The rocks remurmur and the deeps rebound.

At length the tumult sinks, the noises cease,

And a still silence lulls the camp to peace.

Thersites only clamour'd in the throng,

Loquacious, loud, and turbulent of tongue:

Awed by no shame, by no respect controll'd,

In scandal busy, in reproaches bold:

With witty malice studious to defame,

Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim: —

But chief he gloried with licentious style

To lash the great, and monarchs to revile.

His figure such as might his soul proclaim;

One eye was blinking, and one leg was lame:

His mountain shoulders half his breast o'erspread,

Thin hairs bestrew'd his long misshapen head.

Spleen to mankind his envious heart possess'd,

And much he hated all, but most the best:

Ulysses or Achilles still his theme;

But royal scandal his delight supreme,

Long had he lived the scorn of every Greek,

Vex'd when he spoke, yet still they heard him speak.

Sharp was his voice; which in the shrillest tone,

Thus with injurious taunts attack'd the throne.

“Amidst the glories of so bright a reign,

What moves the great Atrides to complain?

'Tis thine whate'er the warrior's breast inflames,

The golden spoil, and thine the lovely dames.

With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow,

Thy tents are crowded and thy chests o'erflow.

Thus at full ease in heaps of riches roll'd,

What grieves the monarch? Is it thirst of gold?

Say, shall we march with our unconquer'd powers

(The Greeks and I) to Ilion's hostile towers,

And bring the race of royal bastards here,

For Troy to ransom at a price too dear?

But safer plunder thy own host supplies;

Say, wouldst thou seize some valiant leader's prize?

Or, if thy heart to generous love be led,

Some captive fair, to bless thy kingly bed?

Whate'er our master craves submit we must,

Plagued with his pride, or punish'd for his lust.

Oh women of Achaia; men no more!

Hence let us fly, and let him waste his store

In loves and pleasures on the Phrygian shore.

We may be wanted on some busy day,

When Hector comes: so great Achilles may:

From him he forced the prize we jointly gave,

From him, the fierce, the fearless, and the brave:

And durst he, as he ought, resent that wrong,

This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long.”

Fierce from his seat at this Ulysses springs,[47]

In generous vengeance of the king of kings.

With indignation sparkling in his eyes,

He views the wretch, and sternly thus replies:

“Peace, factious monster, born to vex the state,

With wrangling talents form'd for foul debate:

Curb that impetuous tongue, nor rashly vain,

And singly mad, asperse the sovereign reign.

Have we not known thee, slave! of all our host,

The man who acts the least, upbraids the most?

Think not the Greeks to shameful flight to bring,

Nor let those lips profane the name of king.

For our return we trust the heavenly powers;

Be that their care; to fight like men be ours.

But grant the host with wealth the general load,

Except detraction, what hast thou bestow'd?

Suppose some hero should his spoils resign,

Art thou that hero, could those spoils be thine?

Gods! let me perish on this hateful shore,

And let these eyes behold my son no more;

If, on thy next offence, this hand forbear

To strip those arms thou ill deserv'st to wear,

Expel the council where our princes meet,

And send thee scourged and howling through the fleet.”

He said, and cowering as the dastard bends,

The weighty sceptre on his bank descends.[48]

On the round bunch the bloody tumours rise:

The tears spring starting from his haggard eyes;

Trembling he sat, and shrunk in abject fears,

From his vile visage wiped the scalding tears;

While to his neighbour each express'd his thought:

“Ye gods! what wonders has Ulysses wrought!

What fruits his conduct and his courage yield!

Great in the council, glorious in the field.

Generous he rises in the crown's defence,

To curb the factious tongue of insolence,

Such just examples on offenders shown,

Sedition silence, and assert the throne.”

'Twas thus the general voice the hero praised,

Who, rising, high the imperial sceptre raised:

The blue-eyed Pallas, his celestial friend,

(In form a herald,) bade the crowds attend.

The expecting crowds in still attention hung,

To hear the wisdom of his heavenly tongue.

Then deeply thoughtful, pausing ere he spoke,

His silence thus the prudent hero broke:

“Unhappy monarch! whom the Grecian race

With shame deserting, heap with vile disgrace.

Not such at Argos was their generous vow:

Once all their voice, but ah! forgotten now:

Ne'er to return, was then the common cry,

Till Troy's proud structures should in ashes lie.

Behold them weeping for their native shore;

What could their wives or helpless children more?

What heart but melts to leave the tender train,

And, one short month, endure the wintry main?

Few leagues removed, we wish our peaceful seat,

When the ship tosses, and the tempests beat:

Then well may this long stay provoke their tears,

The tedious length of nine revolving years.

Not for their grief the Grecian host I blame;

But vanquish'd! baffled! oh, eternal shame!

Expect the time to Troy's destruction given.

And try the faith of Chalcas and of heaven.

What pass'd at Aulis, Greece can witness bear,[49]

And all who live to breathe this Phrygian air.

Beside a fountain's sacred brink we raised

Our verdant altars, and the victims blazed:

'Twas where the plane-tree spread its shades around,

The altars heaved; and from the crumbling ground

A mighty dragon shot, of dire portent;

From Jove himself the dreadful sign was sent.

Straight to the tree his sanguine spires he roll'd,

And curl'd around in many a winding fold;

The topmost branch a mother-bird possess'd;

Eight callow infants fill'd the mossy nest;

Herself the ninth; the serpent, as he hung,

Stretch'd his black jaws and crush'd the crying young;

While hovering near, with miserable moan,

The drooping mother wail'd her children gone.

The mother last, as round the nest she flew,

Seized by the beating wing, the monster slew;

Nor long survived: to marble turn'd, he stands

A lasting prodigy on Aulis' sands.

Such was the will of Jove; and hence we dare

Trust in his omen, and support the war.

For while around we gazed with wondering eyes,

And trembling sought the powers with sacrifice,

Full of his god, the reverend Chalcas cried,[50]

'Ye Grecian warriors! lay your fears aside.

This wondrous signal Jove himself displays,

Of long, long labours, but eternal praise.

As many birds as by the snake were slain,

So many years the toils of Greece remain;

But wait the tenth, for Ilion's fall decreed:'

Thus spoke the prophet, thus the Fates succeed.

Obey, ye Grecians! with submission wait,

Nor let your flight avert the Trojan fate.”

He said: the shores with loud applauses sound,

The hollow ships each deafening shout rebound.

Then Nestor thus-“These vain debates forbear,

Ye talk like children, not like heroes dare.

Where now are all your high resolves at last?

Your leagues concluded, your engagements past?

Vow'd with libations and with victims then,

Now vanish'd like their smoke: the faith of men!

While useless words consume the unactive hours,

No wonder Troy so long resists our powers.

Rise, great Atrides! and with courage sway;

We march to war, if thou direct the way.

But leave the few that dare resist thy laws,

The mean deserters of the Grecian cause,

To grudge the conquests mighty Jove prepares,

And view with envy our successful wars.

On that great day, when first the martial train,

Big with the fate of Ilion, plough'd the main,

Jove, on the right, a prosperous signal sent,

And thunder rolling shook the firmament.

Encouraged hence, maintain the glorious strife,

Till every soldier grasp a Phrygian wife,

Till Helen's woes at full revenged appear,

And Troy's proud matrons render tear for tear.

Before that day, if any Greek invite

His country's troops to base, inglorious flight,

Stand forth that Greek! and hoist his sail to fly,

And die the dastard first, who dreads to die.

But now, O monarch! all thy chiefs advise:[51]

Nor what they offer, thou thyself despise.

Among those counsels, let not mine be vain;

In tribes and nations to divide thy train:

His separate troops let every leader call,

Each strengthen each, and all encourage all.

What chief, or soldier, of the numerous band,

Or bravely fights, or ill obeys command,

When thus distinct they war, shall soon be known

And what the cause of Ilion not o'erthrown;

If fate resists, or if our arms are slow,

If gods above prevent, or men below.”

To him the king: “How much thy years excel

In arts of counsel, and in speaking well!

O would the gods, in love to Greece, decree

But ten such sages as they grant in thee;

Such wisdom soon should Priam's force destroy,

And soon should fall the haughty towers of Troy!

But Jove forbids, who plunges those he hates

In fierce contention and in vain debates:

Now great Achilles from our aid withdraws,

By me provoked; a captive maid the cause:

If e'er as friends we join, the Trojan wall

Must shake, and heavy will the vengeance fall!

But now, ye warriors, take a short repast;

And, well refresh'd, to bloody conflict haste.

His sharpen'd spear let every Grecian wield,

And every Grecian fix his brazen shield,

Let all excite the fiery steeds of war,

And all for combat fit the rattling car.

This day, this dreadful day, let each contend;

No rest, no respite, till the shades descend;

Till darkness, or till death, shall cover all:

Let the war bleed, and let the mighty fall;

Till bathed in sweat be every manly breast,

With the huge shield each brawny arm depress'd,

Each aching nerve refuse the lance to throw,

And each spent courser at the chariot blow.

Who dares, inglorious, in his ships to stay,

Who dares to tremble on this signal day;

That wretch, too mean to fall by martial power,

The birds shall mangle, and the dogs devour.”

The monarch spoke; and straight a murmur rose,

Loud as the surges when the tempest blows,

That dash'd on broken rocks tumultuous roar,

And foam and thunder on the stony shore.

Straight to the tents the troops dispersing bend,

The fires are kindled, and the smokes ascend;

With hasty feasts they sacrifice, and pray,

To avert the dangers of the doubtful day.

A steer of five years' age, large limb'd, and fed,[52]

To Jove's high altars Agamemnon led:

There bade the noblest of the Grecian peers;

And Nestor first, as most advanced in years.

Next came Idomeneus,[53]

and Tydeus' son,[54]

Ajax the less, and Ajax Telamon;[55]

Then wise Ulysses in his rank was placed;

And Menelaus came, unbid, the last.[56]

The chiefs surround the destined beast, and take

The sacred offering of the salted cake:

When thus the king prefers his solemn prayer;

“O thou! whose thunder rends the clouded air,

Who in the heaven of heavens hast fixed thy throne,

Supreme of gods! unbounded, and alone!

Hear! and before the burning sun descends,

Before the night her gloomy veil extends,

Low in the dust be laid yon hostile spires,

Be Priam's palace sunk in Grecian fires.

In Hector's breast be plunged this shining sword,

And slaughter'd heroes groan around their lord!”

Thus prayed the chief: his unavailing prayer

Great Jove refused, and toss'd in empty air:

The God averse, while yet the fumes arose,

Prepared new toils, and doubled woes on woes.

Their prayers perform'd the chiefs the rite pursue,

The barley sprinkled, and the victim slew.

The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide,

The thighs, selected to the gods, divide.

On these, in double cauls involved with art,

The choicest morsels lie from every part,

From the cleft wood the crackling flames aspire

While the fat victims feed the sacred fire.

The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dress'd

The assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest;

Then spread the tables, the repast prepare,

Each takes his seat, and each receives his share.

Soon as the rage of hunger was suppress'd,

The generous Nestor thus the prince address'd.

“Now bid thy heralds sound the loud alarms,

And call the squadrons sheathed in brazen arms;

Now seize the occasion, now the troops survey,

And lead to war when heaven directs the way.”

He said; the monarch issued his commands;

Straight the loud heralds call the gathering bands

The chiefs inclose their king; the hosts divide,

In tribes and nations rank'd on either side.

High in the midst the blue-eyed virgin flies;

From rank to rank she darts her ardent eyes;

The dreadful aegis, Jove's immortal shield,

Blazed on her arm, and lighten'd all the field:

Round the vast orb a hundred serpents roll'd,

Form'd the bright fringe, and seem'd to burn in gold,

With this each Grecian's manly breast she warms,

Swells their bold hearts, and strings their nervous arms,

No more they sigh, inglorious, to return,

But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn.

As on some mountain, through the lofty grove,

The crackling flames ascend, and blaze above;

The fires expanding, as the winds arise,

Shoot their long beams, and kindle half the skies:

So from the polish'd arms, and brazen shields,

A gleamy splendour flash'd along the fields.

Not less their number than the embodied cranes,

Or milk-white swans in Asius' watery plains.

That, o'er the windings of Cayster's springs,[57]

Stretch their long necks, and clap their rustling wings,

Now tower aloft, and course in airy rounds,

Now light with noise; with noise the field resounds.

Thus numerous and confused, extending wide,

The legions crowd Scamander's flowery side;[58]

With rushing troops the plains are cover'd o'er,

And thundering footsteps shake the sounding shore.

Along the river's level meads they stand,

Thick as in spring the flowers adorn the land,

Or leaves the trees; or thick as insects play,

The wandering nation of a summer's day:

That, drawn by milky steams, at evening hours,

In gather'd swarms surround the rural bowers;

From pail to pail with busy murmur run

The gilded legions, glittering in the sun.

So throng'd, so close, the Grecian squadrons stood

In radiant arms, and thirst for Trojan blood.

Each leader now his scatter'd force conjoins

In close array, and forms the deepening lines.

Not with more ease the skilful shepherd-swain

Collects his flocks from thousands on the plain.

The king of kings, majestically tall,

Towers o'er his armies, and outshines them all;

Like some proud bull, that round the pastures leads

His subject herds, the monarch of the meads,

Great as the gods, the exalted chief was seen,

His strength like Neptune, and like Mars his mien;[59]

Jove o'er his eyes celestial glories spread,

And dawning conquest played around his head.

Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine,

All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine![60]

Since earth's wide regions, heaven's umneasur'd height,

And hell's abyss, hide nothing from your sight,

(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,

But guess by rumour, and but boast we know,)

O say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame,

Or urged by wrongs, to Troy's destruction came.

To count them all, demands a thousand tongues,

A throat of brass, and adamantine lungs.

Daughters of Jove, assist! inspired by you

The mighty labour dauntless I pursue;

What crowded armies, from what climes they bring,

Their names, their numbers, and their chiefs I sing.

THE CATALOGUE OF THE SHIPS.[61]

The hardy warriors whom Boeotia bred,

Penelius, Leitus, Prothoenor, led:

With these Arcesilaus and Clonius stand,

Equal in arms, and equal in command.

These head the troops that rocky Aulis yields,

And Eteon's hills, and Hyrie's watery fields,

And Schoenos, Scholos, Graea near the main,

And Mycalessia's ample piny plain;

Those who in Peteon or Ilesion dwell,

Or Harma where Apollo's prophet fell;

Heleon and Hyle, which the springs o'erflow;

And Medeon lofty, and Ocalea low;

Or in the meads of Haliartus stray,

Or Thespia sacred to the god of day:

Onchestus, Neptune's celebrated groves;

Copae, and Thisbe, famed for silver doves;

For flocks Erythrae, Glissa for the vine;

Platea green, and Nysa the divine;

And they whom Thebe's well-built walls inclose,

Where Myde, Eutresis, Corone, rose;

And Arne rich, with purple harvests crown'd;

And Anthedon, Boeotia's utmost bound.

Full fifty ships they send, and each conveys

Twice sixty warriors through the foaming seas.[62]

To these succeed Aspledon's martial train,

Who plough the spacious Orchomenian plain.

Two valiant brothers rule the undaunted throng,

Ialmen and Ascalaphus the strong:

Sons of Astyoche, the heavenly fair,

Whose virgin charms subdued the god of war:

(In Actor's court as she retired to rest,

The strength of Mars the blushing maid compress'd)

Their troops in thirty sable vessels sweep,

With equal oars, the hoarse-resounding deep.

The Phocians next in forty barks repair;

Epistrophus and Schedius head the war:

From those rich regions where Cephisus leads

His silver current through the flowery meads;

From Panopea, Chrysa the divine,

Where Anemoria's stately turrets shine,

Where Pytho, Daulis, Cyparissus stood,

And fair Lilaea views the rising flood.

These, ranged in order on the floating tide,

Close, on the left, the bold Boeotians' side.

Fierce Ajax led the Locrian squadrons on,

Ajax the less, Oileus' valiant son;

Skill'd to direct the flying dart aright;

Swift in pursuit, and active in the fight.

Him, as their chief, the chosen troops attend,

Which Bessa, Thronus, and rich Cynos send;

Opus, Calliarus, and Scarphe's bands;

And those who dwell where pleasing Augia stands,

And where Boagrius floats the lowly lands,

Or in fair Tarphe's sylvan seats reside:

In forty vessels cut the yielding tide.

Euboea next her martial sons prepares,

And sends the brave Abantes to the wars:

Breathing revenge, in arms they take their way

From Chalcis' walls, and strong Eretria;

The Isteian fields for generous vines renown'd,

The fair Caristos, and the Styrian ground;

Where Dios from her towers o'erlooks the plain,

And high Cerinthus views the neighbouring main.

Down their broad shoulders falls a length of hair;

Their hands dismiss not the long lance in air;

But with protended spears in fighting fields

Pierce the tough corslets and the brazen shields.

Twice twenty ships transport the warlike bands,

Which bold Elphenor, fierce in arms, commands.

Full fifty more from Athens stem the main,

Led by Menestheus through the liquid plain.

(Athens the fair, where great Erectheus sway'd,

That owed his nurture to the blue-eyed maid,

But from the teeming furrow took his birth,

The mighty offspring of the foodful earth.

Him Pallas placed amidst her wealthy fane,

Adored with sacrifice and oxen slain;

Where, as the years revolve, her altars blaze,

And all the tribes resound the goddess' praise.)

No chief like thee, Menestheus! Greece could yield,

To marshal armies in the dusty field,

The extended wings of battle to display,

Or close the embodied host in firm array.

Nestor alone, improved by length of days,

For martial conduct bore an equal praise.

With these appear the Salaminian bands,

Whom the gigantic Telamon commands;

In twelve black ships to Troy they steer their course,

And with the great Athenians join their force.

Next move to war the generous Argive train,

From high Troezene, and Maseta's plain,

And fair AEgina circled by the main:

Whom strong Tyrinthe's lofty walls surround,

And Epidaure with viny harvests crown'd:

And where fair Asinen and Hermoin show

Their cliffs above, and ample bay below.

These by the brave Euryalus were led,

Great Sthenelus, and greater Diomed;

But chief Tydides bore the sovereign sway:

In fourscore barks they plough the watery way.

The proud Mycene arms her martial powers,

Cleone, Corinth, with imperial towers,[63]

Fair Araethyrea, Ornia's fruitful plain,

And AEgion, and Adrastus' ancient reign;

And those who dwell along the sandy shore,

And where Pellene yields her fleecy store,

Where Helice and Hyperesia lie,

And Gonoessa's spires salute the sky.

Great Agamemnon rules the numerous band,

A hundred vessels in long order stand,

And crowded nations wait his dread command.

High on the deck the king of men appears,

And his refulgent arms in triumph wears;

Proud of his host, unrivall'd in his reign,

In silent pomp he moves along the main.

His brother follows, and to vengeance warms

The hardy Spartans, exercised in arms:

Phares and Brysia's valiant troops, and those

Whom Lacedaemon's lofty hills inclose;

Or Messe's towers for silver doves renown'd,

Amyclae, Laas, Augia's happy ground,

And those whom OEtylos' low walls contain,

And Helos, on the margin of the main:

These, o'er the bending ocean, Helen's cause,

In sixty ships with Menelaus draws:

Eager and loud from man to man he flies,

Revenge and fury flaming in his eyes;

While vainly fond, in fancy oft he hears

The fair one's grief, and sees her falling tears.

In ninety sail, from Pylos' sandy coast,

Nestor the sage conducts his chosen host:

From Amphigenia's ever-fruitful land,

Where AEpy high, and little Pteleon stand;

Where beauteous Arene her structures shows,

And Thryon's walls Alpheus' streams inclose:

And Dorion, famed for Thamyris' disgrace,

Superior once of all the tuneful race,

Till, vain of mortals' empty praise, he strove

To match the seed of cloud-compelling Jove!

Too daring bard! whose unsuccessful pride

The immortal Muses in their art defied.

The avenging Muses of the light of day

Deprived his eyes, and snatch'd his voice away;

No more his heavenly voice was heard to sing,

His hand no more awaked the silver string.

Where under high Cyllene, crown'd with wood,

The shaded tomb of old AEpytus stood;

From Ripe, Stratie, Tegea's bordering towns,

The Phenean fields, and Orchomenian downs,

Where the fat herds in plenteous pasture rove;

And Stymphelus with her surrounding grove;

Parrhasia, on her snowy cliffs reclined,

And high Enispe shook by wintry wind,

And fair Mantinea's ever-pleasing site;

In sixty sail the Arcadian bands unite.

Bold Agapenor, glorious at their head,

(Ancaeus' son) the mighty squadron led.

Their ships, supplied by Agamemnon's care,

Through roaring seas the wondering warriors bear;

The first to battle on the appointed plain,

But new to all the dangers of the main.

Those, where fair Elis and Buprasium join;

Whom Hyrmin, here, and Myrsinus confine,

And bounded there, where o'er the valleys rose

The Olenian rock; and where Alisium flows;

Beneath four chiefs (a numerous army) came:

The strength and glory of the Epean name.

In separate squadrons these their train divide,

Each leads ten vessels through the yielding tide.

One was Amphimachus, and Thalpius one;

(Eurytus' this, and that Teatus' son;)

Diores sprung from Amarynceus' line;

And great Polyxenus, of force divine.

But those who view fair Elis o'er the seas

From the blest islands of the Echinades,

In forty vessels under Meges move,

Begot by Phyleus, the beloved of Jove:

To strong Dulichium from his sire he fled,

And thence to Troy his hardy warriors led.

Ulysses follow'd through the watery road,

A chief, in wisdom equal to a god.

With those whom Cephalenia's line inclosed,

Or till their fields along the coast opposed;

Or where fair Ithaca o'erlooks the floods,

Where high Neritos shakes his waving woods,

Where AEgilipa's rugged sides are seen,

Crocylia rocky, and Zacynthus green.

These in twelve galleys with vermilion prores,

Beneath his conduct sought the Phrygian shores.

Thoas came next, Andraemon's valiant son,

From Pleuron's walls, and chalky Calydon,

And rough Pylene, and the Olenian steep,

And Chalcis, beaten by the rolling deep.

He led the warriors from the AEtolian shore,

For now the sons of OEneus were no more!

The glories of the mighty race were fled!

OEneus himself, and Meleager dead!

To Thoas' care now trust the martial train,

His forty vessels follow through the main.

Next, eighty barks the Cretan king commands,

Of Gnossus, Lyctus, and Gortyna's bands;

And those who dwell where Rhytion's domes arise,

Or white Lycastus glitters to the skies,

Or where by Phaestus silver Jardan runs;

Crete's hundred cities pour forth all her sons.

These march'd, Idomeneus, beneath thy care,

And Merion, dreadful as the god of war.

Tlepolemus, the sun of Hercules,

Led nine swift vessels through the foamy seas,

From Rhodes, with everlasting sunshine bright,

Jalyssus, Lindus, and Camirus white.

His captive mother fierce Alcides bore

From Ephyr's walls and Selle's winding shore,

Where mighty towns in ruins spread the plain,

And saw their blooming warriors early slain.

The hero, when to manly years he grew,

Alcides' uncle, old Licymnius, slew;

For this, constrain'd to quit his native place,

And shun the vengeance of the Herculean race,

A fleet he built, and with a numerous train

Of willing exiles wander'd o'er the main;

Where, many seas and many sufferings past,

On happy Rhodes the chief arrived at last:

There in three tribes divides his native band,

And rules them peaceful in a foreign land;

Increased and prosper'd in their new abodes

By mighty Jove, the sire of men and gods;

With joy they saw the growing empire rise,

And showers of wealth descending from the skies.

Three ships with Nireus sought the Trojan shore,

Nireus, whom Aglae to Charopus bore,

Nireus, in faultless shape and blooming grace,

The loveliest youth of all the Grecian race;[64]

Pelides only match'd his early charms;

But few his troops, and small his strength in arms.

Next thirty galleys cleave the liquid plain,

Of those Calydnae's sea-girt isles contain;

With them the youth of Nisyrus repair,

Casus the strong, and Crapathus the fair;

Cos, where Eurypylus possess'd the sway,

Till great Alcides made the realms obey:

These Antiphus and bold Phidippus bring,

Sprung from the god by Thessalus the king.

Now, Muse, recount Pelasgic Argos' powers,

From Alos, Alope, and Trechin's towers:

From Phthia's spacious vales; and Hella, bless'd

With female beauty far beyond the rest.

Full fifty ships beneath Achilles' care,

The Achaians, Myrmidons, Hellenians bear;

Thessalians all, though various in their name;

The same their nation, and their chief the same.

But now inglorious, stretch'd along the shore,

They hear the brazen voice of war no more;

No more the foe they face in dire array:

Close in his fleet the angry leader lay;

Since fair Briseis from his arms was torn,

The noblest spoil from sack'd Lyrnessus borne,

Then, when the chief the Theban walls o'erthrew,

And the bold sons of great Evenus slew.

There mourn'd Achilles, plunged in depth of care,

But soon to rise in slaughter, blood, and war.

To these the youth of Phylace succeed,

Itona, famous for her fleecy breed,

And grassy Pteleon deck'd with cheerful greens,

The bowers of Ceres, and the sylvan scenes.

Sweet Pyrrhasus, with blooming flowerets crown'd,

And Antron's watery dens, and cavern'd ground.

These own'd, as chief, Protesilas the brave,

Who now lay silent in the gloomy grave:

The first who boldly touch'd the Trojan shore,

And dyed a Phrygian lance with Grecian gore;

There lies, far distant from his native plain;

Unfinish'd his proud palaces remain,

And his sad consort beats her breast in vain.

His troops in forty ships Podarces led,

Iphiclus' son, and brother to the dead;

Nor he unworthy to command the host;

Yet still they mourn'd their ancient leader lost.

The men who Glaphyra's fair soil partake,

Where hills incircle Boebe's lowly lake,

Where Phaere hears the neighbouring waters fall,

Or proud Iolcus lifts her airy wall,

In ten black ships embark'd for Ilion's shore,

With bold Eumelus, whom Alceste bore:

All Pelias' race Alceste far outshined,

The grace and glory of the beauteous kind,

The troops Methone or Thaumacia yields,

Olizon's rocks, or Meliboea's fields,

With Philoctetes sail'd whose matchless art

From the tough bow directs the feather'd dart.

Seven were his ships; each vessel fifty row,

Skill'd in his science of the dart and bow.

But he lay raging on the Lemnian ground,

A poisonous hydra gave the burning wound;

There groan'd the chief in agonizing pain,

Whom Greece at length shall wish, nor wish in vain.

His forces Medon led from Lemnos' shore,

Oileus' son, whom beauteous Rhena bore.

The OEchalian race, in those high towers contain'd

Where once Eurytus in proud triumph reign'd,

Or where her humbler turrets Tricca rears,

Or where Ithome, rough with rocks, appears,

In thirty sail the sparkling waves divide,

Which Podalirius and Machaon guide.

To these his skill their parent-god imparts,

Divine professors of the healing arts.

The bold Ormenian and Asterian bands

In forty barks Eurypylus commands.

Where Titan hides his hoary head in snow,

And where Hyperia's silver fountains flow.

Thy troops, Argissa, Polypoetes leads,

And Eleon, shelter'd by Olympus' shades,

Gyrtone's warriors; and where Orthe lies,

And Oloosson's chalky cliffs arise.

Sprung from Pirithous of immortal race,

The fruit of fair Hippodame's embrace,

(That day, when hurl'd from Pelion's cloudy head,

To distant dens the shaggy Centaurs fled)

With Polypoetes join'd in equal sway

Leonteus leads, and forty ships obey.

In twenty sail the bold Perrhaebians came

From Cyphus, Guneus was their leader's name.

With these the Enians join'd, and those who freeze

Where cold Dodona lifts her holy trees;

Or where the pleasing Titaresius glides,

And into Peneus rolls his easy tides;

Yet o'er the silvery surface pure they flow,

The sacred stream unmix'd with streams below,

Sacred and awful! from the dark abodes

Styx pours them forth, the dreadful oath of gods!

Last, under Prothous the Magnesians stood,

(Prothous the swift, of old Tenthredon's blood;)

Who dwell where Pelion, crown'd with piny boughs,

Obscures the glade, and nods his shaggy brows;

Or where through flowery Tempe Peneus stray'd:

(The region stretch'd beneath his mighty shade:)

In forty sable barks they stemm'd the main;

Such were the chiefs, and such the Grecian train.

Say next, O Muse! of all Achaia breeds,

Who bravest fought, or rein'd the noblest steeds?

Eumelus' mares were foremost in the chase,

As eagles fleet, and of Pheretian race;

Bred where Pieria's fruitful fountains flow,

And train'd by him who bears the silver bow.

Fierce in the fight their nostrils breathed a flame,

Their height, their colour, and their age the same;

O'er fields of death they whirl the rapid car,

And break the ranks, and thunder through the war.

Ajax in arms the first renown acquired,

While stern Achilles in his wrath retired:

(His was the strength that mortal might exceeds,

And his the unrivall'd race of heavenly steeds:)

But Thetis' son now shines in arms no more;

His troops, neglected on the sandy shore.

In empty air their sportive javelins throw,

Or whirl the disk, or bend an idle bow:

Unstain'd with blood his cover'd chariots stand;

The immortal coursers graze along the strand;

But the brave chiefs the inglorious life deplored,

And, wandering o'er the camp, required their lord.

Now, like a deluge, covering all around,

The shining armies sweep along the ground;

Swift as a flood of fire, when storms arise,

Floats the wild field, and blazes to the skies.

Earth groan'd beneath them; as when angry Jove

Hurls down the forky lightning from above,

On Arime when he the thunder throws,

And fires Typhoeus with redoubled blows,

Where Typhon, press'd beneath the burning load,

Still feels the fury of the avenging god.

But various Iris, Jove's commands to bear,

Speeds on the wings of winds through liquid air;

In Priam's porch the Trojan chiefs she found,

The old consulting, and the youths around.

Polites' shape, the monarch's son, she chose,

Who from AEsetes' tomb observed the foes,[65]

High on the mound; from whence in prospect lay

The fields, the tents, the navy, and the bay.

In this dissembled form, she hastes to bring

The unwelcome message to the Phrygian king.

“Cease to consult, the time for action calls;

War, horrid war, approaches to your walls!

Assembled armies oft have I beheld;

But ne'er till now such numbers charged a field:

Thick as autumnal leaves or driving sand,

The moving squadrons blacken all the strand.

Thou, godlike Hector! all thy force employ,

Assemble all the united bands of Troy;

In just array let every leader call

The foreign troops: this day demands them all!”

The voice divine the mighty chief alarms;

The council breaks, the warriors rush to arms.

The gates unfolding pour forth all their train,

Nations on nations fill the dusky plain,

Men, steeds, and chariots, shake the trembling ground:

The tumult thickens, and the skies resound.

Amidst the plain, in sight of Ilion, stands

A rising mount, the work of human hands;

(This for Myrinne's tomb the immortals know,

Though call'd Bateia in the world below;)

Beneath their chiefs in martial order here,

The auxiliar troops and Trojan hosts appear.

The godlike Hector, high above the rest,

Shakes his huge spear, and nods his plumy crest:

In throngs around his native bands repair,

And groves of lances glitter in the air.

Divine AEneas brings the Dardan race,

Anchises' son, by Venus' stolen embrace,

Born in the shades of Ida's secret grove;

(A mortal mixing with the queen of love;)

Archilochus and Acamas divide

The warrior's toils, and combat by his side.

Who fair Zeleia's wealthy valleys till,[66]

Fast by the foot of Ida's sacred hill,

Or drink, AEsepus, of thy sable flood,

Were led by Pandarus, of royal blood;

To whom his art Apollo deign'd to show,

Graced with the presents of his shafts and bow.

From rich Apaesus and Adrestia's towers,

High Teree's summits, and Pityea's bowers;

From these the congregated troops obey

Young Amphius and Adrastus' equal sway;

Old Merops' sons; whom, skill'd in fates to come,

The sire forewarn'd, and prophesied their doom:

Fate urged them on! the sire forewarn'd in vain,

They rush'd to war, and perish'd on the plain.

From Practius' stream, Percote's pasture lands,

And Sestos and Abydos' neighbouring strands,

From great Arisba's walls and Selle's coast,

Asius Hyrtacides conducts his host:

High on his car he shakes the flowing reins,

His fiery coursers thunder o'er the plains.

The fierce Pelasgi next, in war renown'd,

March from Larissa's ever-fertile ground:

In equal arms their brother leaders shine,

Hippothous bold, and Pyleus the divine.

Next Acamas and Pyrous lead their hosts,

In dread array, from Thracia's wintry coasts;

Round the bleak realms where Hellespontus roars,

And Boreas beats the hoarse-resounding shores.

With great Euphemus the Ciconians move,

Sprung from Troezenian Ceus, loved by Jove.

Pyraechmes the Paeonian troops attend,

Skill'd in the fight their crooked bows to bend;

From Axius' ample bed he leads them on,

Axius, that laves the distant Amydon,

Axius, that swells with all his neighbouring rills,

And wide around the floating region fills.

The Paphlagonians Pylaemenes rules,

Where rich Henetia breeds her savage mules,

Where Erythinus' rising cliffs are seen,

Thy groves of box, Cytorus! ever green,

And where AEgialus and Cromna lie,

And lofty Sesamus invades the sky,

And where Parthenius, roll'd through banks of flowers,

Reflects her bordering palaces and bowers.

Here march'd in arms the Halizonian band,

Whom Odius and Epistrophus command,

From those far regions where the sun refines

The ripening silver in Alybean mines.

There mighty Chromis led the Mysian train,

And augur Ennomus, inspired in vain;

For stern Achilles lopp'd his sacred head,

Roll'd down Scamander with the vulgar dead.

Phorcys and brave Ascanius here unite

The Ascanian Phrygians, eager for the fight.

Of those who round Maeonia's realms reside,

Or whom the vales in shades of Tmolus hide,

Mestles and Antiphus the charge partake,

Born on the banks of Gyges' silent lake.

There, from the fields where wild Maeander flows,

High Mycale, and Latmos' shady brows,

And proud Miletus, came the Carian throngs,

With mingled clamours and with barbarous tongues.[67]

Amphimachus and Naustes guide the train,

Naustes the bold, Amphimachus the vain,

Who, trick'd with gold, and glittering on his car,

Rode like a woman to the field of war.

Fool that he was! by fierce Achilles slain,

The river swept him to the briny main:

There whelm'd with waves the gaudy warrior lies

The valiant victor seized the golden prize.

The forces last in fair array succeed,

Which blameless Glaucus and Sarpedon lead

The warlike bands that distant Lycia yields,

Where gulfy Xanthus foams along the fields.

Thus by their leaders' care each martial band

Moves into ranks, and stretches o'er the land.

With shouts the Trojans, rushing from afar,

Proclaim their motions, and provoke the war

So when inclement winters vex the plain

With piercing frosts, or thick-descending rain,

To warmer seas the cranes embodied fly,[68]

With noise, and order, through the midway sky;

To pigmy nations wounds and death they bring,

And all the war descends upon the wing,

But silent, breathing rage, resolved and skill'd[69]

By mutual aids to fix a doubtful field,

Swift march the Greeks: the rapid dust around

Darkening arises from the labour'd ground.

Thus from his flaggy wings when Notus sheds

A night of vapours round the mountain heads,

Swift-gliding mists the dusky fields invade,

To thieves more grateful than the midnight shade;

While scarce the swains their feeding flocks survey,

Lost and confused amidst the thicken'd day:

So wrapp'd in gathering dust, the Grecian train,

A moving cloud, swept on, and hid the plain.

Now front to front the hostile armies stand,

Eager of fight, and only wait command;

When, to the van, before the sons of fame

Whom Troy sent forth, the beauteous Paris came:

In form a god! the panther's speckled hide

Flow'd o'er his armour with an easy pride:

His bended bow across his shoulders flung,

His sword beside him negligently hung;

Two pointed spears he shook with gallant grace,

And dared the bravest of the Grecian race.

As thus, with glorious air and proud disdain,

He boldly stalk'd, the foremost on the plain,

Him Menelaus, loved of Mars, espies,

With heart elated, and with joyful eyes:

So joys a lion, if the branching deer,

Or mountain goat, his bulky prize, appear;

Eager he seizes and devours the slain,

Press'd by bold youths and baying dogs in vain.

Thus fond of vengeance, with a furious bound,

In clanging arms he leaps upon the ground

From his high chariot: him, approaching near,

The beauteous champion views with marks of fear,

Smit with a conscious sense, retires behind,

And shuns the fate he well deserved to find.

As when some shepherd, from the rustling trees[70]

Shot forth to view, a scaly serpent sees,

Trembling and pale, he starts with wild affright

And all confused precipitates his flight:

So from the king the shining warrior flies,

And plunged amid the thickest Trojans lies.

As godlike Hector sees the prince retreat,

He thus upbraids him with a generous heat:

“Unhappy Paris! but to women brave![71]

So fairly form'd, and only to deceive!

Oh, hadst thou died when first thou saw'st the light,

Or died at least before thy nuptial rite!

A better fate than vainly thus to boast,

And fly, the scandal of thy Trojan host.

Gods! how the scornful Greeks exult to see

Their fears of danger undeceived in thee!

Thy figure promised with a martial air,

But ill thy soul supplies a form so fair.

In former days, in all thy gallant pride,

When thy tall ships triumphant stemm'd the tide,

When Greece beheld thy painted canvas flow,

And crowds stood wondering at the passing show,

Say, was it thus, with such a baffled mien,

You met the approaches of the Spartan queen,

Thus from her realm convey'd the beauteous prize,

And both her warlike lords outshined in Helen's eyes?

This deed, thy foes' delight, thy own disgrace,

Thy father's grief, and ruin of thy race;

This deed recalls thee to the proffer'd fight;

Or hast thou injured whom thou dar'st not right?

Soon to thy cost the field would make thee know

Thou keep'st the consort of a braver foe.

Thy graceful form instilling soft desire,

Thy curling tresses, and thy silver lyre,

Beauty and youth; in vain to these you trust,

When youth and beauty shall be laid in dust:

Troy yet may wake, and one avenging blow

Crush the dire author of his country's woe.”

His silence here, with blushes, Paris breaks:

“'Tis just, my brother, what your anger speaks:

But who like thee can boast a soul sedate,

So firmly proof to all the shocks of fate?

Thy force, like steel, a temper'd hardness shows,

Still edged to wound, and still untired with blows,

Like steel, uplifted by some strenuous swain,

With falling woods to strew the wasted plain.

Thy gifts I praise; nor thou despise the charms

With which a lover golden Venus arms;

Soft moving speech, and pleasing outward show,

No wish can gain them, but the gods bestow.

Yet, would'st thou have the proffer'd combat stand,

The Greeks and Trojans seat on either hand;

Then let a midway space our hosts divide,

And, on that stage of war, the cause be tried:

By Paris there the Spartan king be fought,

For beauteous Helen and the wealth she brought;

And who his rival can in arms subdue,

His be the fair, and his the treasure too.

Thus with a lasting league your toils may cease,

And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace;

Thus may the Greeks review their native shore,

Much famed for generous steeds, for beauty more.”

He said. The challenge Hector heard with joy,

Then with his spear restrain'd the youth of Troy,

Held by the midst, athwart; and near the foe

Advanced with steps majestically slow:

While round his dauntless head the Grecians pour

Their stones and arrows in a mingled shower.

Then thus the monarch, great Atrides, cried:

“Forbear, ye warriors! lay the darts aside:

A parley Hector asks, a message bears;

We know him by the various plume he wears.”

Awed by his high command the Greeks attend,

The tumult silence, and the fight suspend.