Their arms in order on the ground reclin'd, Through the brown shade the fulgid weapons shin'd:

Amidst lay Rhesus, stretch'd in sleep profound,
And the white steeds behind his chariot bound.
The welcome sight Ulysses first descries,
And points to Diomed the tempting prize.
"The man. the coursers, and the car behold!
Describ'd by Dolon, with the arms of gold.
Now, brave Tydides! now thy courage try,
Approach the chariot, and the steeds untie,"
Or if thy soul aspire to fiercer deeds,

Urge thou the slaughter, while I seize the steeds.
Pallas (this said) her hero's bosom warms,
Breath'd in his heart, and strung his nervous arms,
Where'er he pass'd, a purple stream pursued
His thirsty falchion, fat with hostile blood;
Bath'd all his footsteps, dy'd the fields with gore,
And a low groan remurmur'd through the shore.
So the grim lion, from his nightly den,
O'erleaps the fences, and invades the pen;
On sheep or goats, resistless in his way,

He falls and foaming rends the guardless prey.
Nor stopp'd the fury of his vengeful hand,
Till twelve lay breathless of the Thracian band.
Ulysses following, as his partner slew,
Back by the foot each slaughter'd warrior drew;
The milk-white coursers studious to convey
Safe to the ships, he wisely clear'd the way;
Lest the fierce steeds, not yet to battles bred,
Should start, and tremble at the heaps of dead.
Now twelve dispatch'd, the monarch last they
found;

Tydides' falchion fix'd him to the ground.
Just then a deathful dream Minerva sent;
A warlike form appear'd before his tent,
Whose visionary steel his bosom tore :

So dream'd the monarch, and awak'd no more.
Ulysses now the snowy steeds detains,
And leads them, fasten'd by the silver reins;
These, with his bow unbent, he lash'd along;
The scourge forgot, on Rhesus' chariot hung.)
Then gave his friend the signal to retire;
But him, new dangers, new achievements fire:
Doubtful he stood, or with his reeking blade
To send more heroes to th' infernal shade,
Drag off the car where Rhesus' armour lay,
Or heave with manly force, and lift away.
While unresolv'd the son of Tydeus stands,
Pallas appears, and thus her chief commands:
Enough, my son; from farther slaughter

46

cease,

Regard thy safety, and depart in peace;
Haste to the ships, the gotten spoils enjoy,
Nor tempt too far the hostile gods of Troy."
The voice divine confess'd the martial maid;
In haste he mounted, and her word obey'd;
The coursers fly before Ulysses' bow,
Swift as the wind, and white as winter-snow.
Not unobserv'd they pass'd: the god of light
Had watch'd his Troy, and mark'd Minerva's
flight,

Saw Tydeus' son with heavenly succour blest,
And vengeful anger fill'd his sacred breast.
Swift to the Trojan camp descends the power,
And wakes Hippocoon in the morning hour
(On Rhesus' side accustom'd to attend,
A faithful kinsman, and instructive friend.)
He rose, and saw the field deform'd with blood,
An empty space where late the coursers stood,

The yet-warm Thracians panting on the coast;
For each he wept, but for his Rhesus most:
Now while on Rhesus' name he calls in vain,
The gathering tumult spreads o'er all the plain;
On heaps the Trojans rush, with wild affright,
And wondering view the slaughters of the night.
Meanwhile the chiefs arriving at the shade
Where late the spoils of Hector's spy were laid,
Ulysses stopp'd; to him Tydides bore

The trophy, dropping yet with Dolon's gore:
Then mounts again; again their nimble feet
The coursers ply, and thunder tow'rds the fleet.
Old Nestor first perceiv'd th' approaching sound,
Bespeaking thus the Grecian peers around:

Methinks the noise of trampling steeds I hear, Thickening this way, and gathering on my ear; Perhaps some horses of the Trojan breed (So may, ye gods! my pious hopes succeed) The great Tydides and Ulysses bear, Return'd triumphant with this prize of war. Yet much I fear (ah may that fear be vain!) The chiefs out-number'd by the Trojan train; Perhaps ev'n now pursued, they seek the shore; Or, oh! perhaps those heroes are no more."

Scarce had he spoke, when lo! the chiefs

appear,

And spring to earth; the Greeks dismiss their fear:
With words of friendship and extended hands
They greet the kings: and Nestor first demands:
Say thou, whose praises all our host proclain,
Thou living glory of the Grecian name!
Say, whence these coursers? by what chance
bestow'd?

The spoil of foes, or present of a god?
Not those fair steeds so radiant and so gay,
That draw the burning chariot of the day.
Old as I am, to age I scorn to yield,
And daily mingle in the martial field;

But sure till now no coursers struck my sight
Like these conspicuous through the ranks of fight.
Some god, I deem, conferr'd the glorious prize,
Blest as ye are, and favourites of the skies;
The care of him who bids the thunder roar,
And her', whose fury bathes the world with gore."
"Father! not so" (sage Ithacus rejoin'd)
"The gifts of Heaven are of a nobler kind.
Of Thracian lineage are the steeds ye view,
Whose hostile king the brave Tydides slew;
Sleeping he died, with all his guards around,
And twelve beside lay gasping on the ground.
These other spoils from conquer'd Dolon came,
A wretch, whose swiftness was his only fame,
By Hector sent our forces to explore,
He now lies headless on the sandy shore."

Then o'er the trench the bounding coursers flew;
The joyful Greeks with loud acclaim pursue.
Straight to Tydides' high pavillion borne,
The matchless steeds his ample stall adorn:
The neighing coursers their new fellows greet,
And the full racks are heap'd with generous wheat.
But Dolon's armour, to his ships convey'd,
High on the painted stern Ulysses laid,
A trophy destin'd to the blue-cy'd maid.

Now from nocturnal sweat, and sanguine stain, They cleanse their bodies in the neighbouring main:

Then in the polish'd bath, refresh'd from toil,
Their joints they supple with dissolving oil,

• Minerva.

the third battle, AND THE ACTS OF AGAMEMNON. AGAMEMNON, having armed himself, leads the Grecians to battle: Hector prepares the Trojans to receive them; while Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, give the signals of war. Agamemnon bears all before him; and Hector is commanded by Jupiter (who sends Iris for that purpose) to decline the engagement, till the king shall be wounded and retire from the field He then makes a great slaughter of the enemy; Ulysses and Diomed put a stop to him for a time; but the latter being wounded by Paris, is obliged to desert his companion, who is encompassed by the Trojans, wounded, and in the utmost danger, till Menelaus and Ajax rescue him. Hector comes against Ajax; but that hero alone opposes multitudes, and rallies the Greeks. In the mean time Machaon, in the other wing of the army, is pierced with an arrow by Paris, and carried from the fight in Nestor's chariot. Achilles (who overlooked the action from his ship) sent Patroclus to inquire which of the Greeks was wounded in that manner? Nestor entertains him in his tent with an account of the accidents of the day, and a long recital of some former wars which he remember d, tending to put Patroclus upon persuading Achilles to fight | for his countrymen, or at least permit him to do it, clad in Achilles' armour. Patroclus in his return meets Furypylus also wounded, and assists him in that distress.

This book opens with the eight and twentieth day of the poem; and the same day, with its various actions and adventures, is extended through the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, and part of the eighteenth books. The scene lies in the field, near the monument of Ilus.

THE saffron Morn, with early blushes spread,
Now rose refulgent from Tithonius' bed';
With new-born day to gladden mortal sight,
And gild the courts of Heaven with sacred light:
When baleful Eris, sent by Jove's command,
The torch of discord blazing in her hand,
Through the red skies her bloody sign extends,
And, wrapt in tempests, o'er the fleet descends.
High on Ulysses' bark, her horrid stand

She took, and thunder'd through the seas and land.

Ev'n Ajax and Achilles heard the sound,
Whose ships, remote, the guarded navy bound,
Thence the black Fury through the Grecian throng
With horrour sounds the loud Orthian song:
The navy shakes, and at the dire alarms
Each bosom boils, each warrior starts to arms.
No more they sigh, inglorious to return,
But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn,
The king of men his hardy host inspires
With loud command, with great example fires;
Himself first rose, himself before the rest
His mighty limbs in radiant armour drest.
And first he cas'd his manly legs around
In shining greaves, with silver buckles bound:
The beaming cuirass next adorn'd his breast,
The same which once king Cinyras possest:
(The fame of Greece and her assembled host
Had reach'd that monarch on the Cyprian coast;
'Twas then, the friendship of the chief to gain,
This glorious gift he sent, nor sent in vain.)
Ten rows of azure steel the work infold,
Twice ten of tin, and twelve of ductile gold ;
Three glittering dragons to the gorget rise,
Whose imitated scales, against the skies
Reflected various light, and arching bow'd,
Like colonr'd rainbows o'er a showery cloud
(Jove's wondrous bow, of three celestial dyes,
Plac'd as a sign to man amid the skies.)
A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder ty'd,
Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side:
Gold was the hilt, a silver sheath encas'd
The shining blade, and golden hangers grac'd.
His buckler's mighty orb was next display'd,
That round the warrior cast a dreadful shade;
Ten zones of brass its ample brim surround,
And twice ten bosses the bright convex crown'd
Tremendous Gorgon frown'd upon its field,
And circling terrours fill'd th' expressive shield;
Within its concave hung a silver thong,
On which a mimic serpent creeps along;
His azure length in easy waves extends,
Till in three heads th' embroider'd monster ends
Last o'er his brows his fourfold helm he plac'd,
With nodding horse-hair formidably grac'd!
And in his hands two steely javelins wields,
That blaze to Heaven, and lighten all the fields,
That instant Juno and the martial maid
In happy thunders promis'd Greece their aid;
High o'er the chief they clash'd their arms in air į
And, leaning from the clouds, expect the war.

i

Close to the limits of the trench and mound, The fiery coursers to their chariots bound The squires restrain'd: the foot with those who The lighter arms, rush forward to the field. [wield To second these, in close array combin'd, The squadrons spread their sable wings behind. Now shouts and tumults wake the tardy Sun, As with the light the warrior's toils begun. Ev'n Jove, whose thunder spoke his wrath, distill'd Red drops of blood o'er all the fatal field; The woes of men unwilling to survey, And all the slaughters that must stain the day. Near Ilus' tomb, in order rang'd around, The Trojan lines possess'd the rising ground: There wise Polydamas and Hector stood, Eneas, honour'd as a guardian god Bold Polybus, Agenor the divine, The brother warriors of Antenor's line; With youthful Acamas, whose beauteous face And fair proportion match'd th' etherial race;

་』་

Safe from the darts, the care of Heaven he stood,
Amidst alarms, and death, and dust, and blood.
Now past the tomb where ancient Ilus lay,
Through the mid field the routed urge their way;
Where the wild figs th' adjoining summit crown,
That path they take, and speed to reach the town.
As swift Atrides with loud shouts pursued,
Hot with his toil, and bath'd in hostile blood,
Now near the beech-tree, and the Scean gates,
The hero halts, and his associates waits.
Meanwhile on every side, around the plain,
Dispers'd, disorder'd, fly the Trojan train:
So flies a herd of beeves, that here dismay'd
The lion's roaring through the midnight shade;
On heaps they tumble with successless haste:
The savage seizes, draws, and rends the last :
Not with less fury stern Atrides flew,
Still press'd the rout, and still the hindmost slew;
Hurl'd from their cars, the bravest chiefs are kill'd,
And rage, and death, and carnage, load the field.
Now storms the victor at the Trojan wall;
Surveys the towers, and meditates their fall.
But Jove descending, shook th' Idæan hills,
And down their summits pour'd a hundred rills:
Th' unkindled lightnings in his hand he took,
And thus the many-colour'd maid bespoke :

Iris, with haste thy golden wings display, To godlike Hector this our word convey― While Agamemnon wastes the ranks around, Fights in the front, and bathes with blood the

ground,

Bid him give way; but issue forth commands,
And trust the war to less important hands,
But when, or wounded by the spear or dart,
That chief shall mount his chariot, and depart :
Then Jove shall string his arm, and fire his breast,
Then to her ships shall flying Greece be press'd,
Till to the main the burning Sun descend,
And sacred Night her awful shade extend."

He spoke, and Iris at his word obey'd;
On wings of winds descends the various maid.
The chief she found amidst the ranks of war,
Close to the bulwarks, on his glittering car.
The goddess then: "O son of Priam, hear!
From Jove I come, and his high mandate bear-
While Agamemnon wastes the ranks around,
Fights in the front, and bathes with blood the
ground,

Abstain from fight; yet issue forth commands,
And trust the war to less important hands.
But when, or wounded by the spear or dart,
The chief shall mount his chariot, and depart:
Then Jove shall string thy arm, and fire thy breast,
Then to her ships shall flying Greece be prest,
Till to the main the burning Sun descend,
And sacred Night her awful shade extend."

She said, and vanish'd: Hector with a bound,
Springs from his chariot on the trembling ground,
In clanging arms: he grasps in either hand
A pointed lance, and speeds from band to band;
Revives their ardour, turns their steps from flight,
And wakes anew the dying flames of fight.
They stand to arms: the Greeks their onset dare,
Coudense their powers, and wait the coming war.
New force, new spirits, to each breast returns ;
The fight renew'd with fiercer fury burns:
The king leads on; all fix on him their eye,
And learn from him to conquer, or to die.

Ye sacred Nine, celestial Muses! tell, Who fac'd him first, and by his prowess fell!

The great Iphidamas, the bold and young,
From sage Antenor and Theano sprung;
Whom from his youth his grandsire Cisseus bred,
And nurs'd in Thrace, where snowy flocks are fed.
Scarce did the down his rosy cheeks invest,
And early honour warm his generous breast,
When the kind sire consign'd his daughter's
(Theano's sister) to his youthful arms.
But call'd by glory to the wars of Troy,
He leaves untasted the first fruits of joy;
From his lov'd bride departs with melting eyes,
And swift to aid his dearer country flies.
With twelve black ships he reach'd Percope's
strand,

[charms

Thence took the long laborious march by land.
Now fierce for fame before the ranks he springs,
Towering in arms, and braves the king of kings.
Atrides first discharg'd the missive spear;
The Trojan stoop'd, the javelin pass'd in air.
Then near the corselet, at the monarch's heart,
With all his strength, the youth directs his dart:
But the broad belt, with plates of silver bound,
The point rebated, and repell'd the wound.
Encumber'd with the dart, Atrides stands,
Till, grasp'd with force, he wrench'd it from his
hands,

At once his weighty sword discharg'd a wound
Full on his neck, that fell'd him to the ground.
Stretch'd in the dust th' unhappy warrior lies,
And sleep eternal seals his swimming eyes.
Oh worthy better fate! oh early slain!

Thy country's friend; and virtuous, though in vain!
No more the youth shall join his consort's side,
At once a virgin, and at once a bride!
No more with presents her embraces meet,
Or lay the spoils of conquest at her feet,
On whom his passion, lavish of his store,
Bestow'd so much, and vainly promis'd more!
Unwept, uncover'd, on the plain he lay,
While the proud victor bore his arms away.

Coon, Antenor's eldest hope, was nigh:
Tears, at the sight, came starting from his eye,
While pierc'd with grief the much-lov'd youth he

view'd,

And the pale features, now deform'd with blood:
Then with his spear, unseen, his time he took,
Aim'd at the king, and near his elbow strook.
The thrilling steel transpierc'd the brawny part,
And through his arm stood forth the barbed dart.
Surpris'd the monarch feels, yet void of fear
On Coon rushes with his lifted spear:
His brother's corpse the pious Trojan draws,
And calls his country to assert his cause,
Defends him breathless on the sanguine field,
And o'er the body spreads his ample shield.
Atrides, marking an unguarded part,
Transfix'd the warrior with the brazen dart;
Prone on his brother's bleeding breast he lay,
The monarch's falchion lopp'd his head away:
The social shades the same dark journey go,
And join each other in the realms below.

The vengeful victor rages round the fields,
With every weapon art or fury yields:
By the long lance, the sword, or ponderous stone,
Whole ranks are broken, and whole troops o'er-

thrown.

This, while yet warm, distill'd the purple flood;
But when the wound grew stiff with clotted blood,
Then grinding tortures his strong bosom rend,
Less keen those darts the fierce Ilythiæ send

Great Hector cover'd with his spacious shield,
Plies all the troops, and orders all the field.
As the red star now shows his sanguine fires
Through the dark clouds, and now in night retires;
Thus through the ranks appear'd the god-like man,
Plung'd in the rear, or blazing in the van;
While streamy sparkles, restless as he flies,
Flash from his arms as lightning from the skies.
As sweating reapers in some wealthy field,
Rang'd in two bands, their crooked weapons wield,
Bear down the furrows, till their labours meet;
Thick falls the heapy harvest at their feet:
So Greece and Troy the field of war divide,
And falling ranks are strow'd on every side,
None stoop'd a thought to base inglorious flight;
But horse to horse, and man to man, they fight.
Not rabid wolves more fierce contest their prey;
Each wounds, each bleeds, but none resign the
day.

Discord with joy the scene of death descries,
And drinks large slaughter at her sanguine eyes:
Discord alone, of all th' immortal train,
Swells the red horrours of this direful plain :
The gods in peace their golden mansions fill,
Rang'd in bright order on th' Olympian hill;
But general murmurs told their griefs above,
And each accus'd the partial will of Jove.
Meanwhile apart, superior, and alone,
Th' eternal monarch on his awful throne,
Wrapt in the blaze of boundless glory sate;
And, fix'd, fulfill'd the just decrees of fate.
On Earth he turn'd his all-considering eyes,
And mark'd the spot where Ilion's towers arise;
The sea with ships, the fields with armies spread,
The victor's rage, the dying and the dead

Thus while the morning-beams increasing bright O'er Heaven's pure azure spread the glowing light,

Commutual death the fate of war confounds,
Each adverse battle gor'd with equal wounds.
But now (what time in some sequester'd vale,
The weary woodman spreads his sparing meal,
When his tir'd arms refuse the axe to rear,
And claim a respite from the sylvan war;
But not till half the prostrate forest lay
Stretch'd in long ruin, and expos'd to day)
Then, nor till then, the Greeks' impulsive might
Pierc'd the black phalanx, and let in the light.
Great Agamemnon then the slaughter led,
And slew Bienor at his people's head:
Whose squire Oileus, with a sudden spring,
Leap'd from the chariot to revenge his king;
But in his front he felt the fatal wound,

Which pierc'd his brain, and stretch'd him on the ground.

Atrides spoil'd, and left him on the plain :
Vain was their youth, their glittering armour
vain :

Now soil'd with dust, and naked to the sky,
Their snowy limbs and beautequs bodies lie.
Two sons of Priam next to battle move,
The product one of marriage, one of love
In the same car the brother warriors ride,
This took the charge to combat, that to guide:
Far other task, than when they wont to keep,
On Ida's tops their father's fleecy sheep!
These on the mountains once Achilles found,
And captive led, with pliant osiers bound;
Then to their sire for ample sums restor❜d;
But now to perish by Atrides' sword;

Pierc'd in the breast the base-born Isus bleeds:
Cleft through the head, his brother's fate succeeds.
Swift to the spoil the hasty victor falls,

And stript, their features to his mind recalls.
The Trojans see the youths untimely die,
But helpless tremble for themselves, and fly.
So when a lion ranging o'er the lawns,
Finds, on some grassy lair, the couching fawns,
Their bones he cracks, their reeking vitals draws,
And grinds the quivering flesh with bloody jaws;
The frighted hind beholds, and dares not stay,
But swift through rustling thickets bursts her way;
All drown'd in sweat the panting mother flies,
And the big tears roll trickling from her eyes.
Amidst the tumult of the routed train,
The sons of false Antimachus were slain;
He, who for bribes his faithless counsels sold,
And voted Helen's stay for Paris' gold
Atrides mark'd, as these their safety sought,
And slew the children for the father's fault;
Their headstrong horse unable to restrain,
They shook with fear, and dropp'd the silken rein;
Then in their chariot on their knees they fall,
And thus with lifted hands for mercy call:

"Oh spare our youth, and for the life we owe,
Antimachus shall copious gifts bestow;
Soon as he hears, that not in battle slain,
The Grecian ships his captive sons detain,
Large heaps of brass in ransom shall be told,
And steel well-temper'd, and persuasive gold."
These words, attended with a flood of tears,
The youths address'd to unrelenting ears:
The vengeful monarch gave this stern reply-
"If from Antimachus ye spring, ye die:
The daring wretch who once in council stood
To shed Ulysses' and my brother's blood,
For proffer'd peace! and sues his seed for grace!
No, die, and pay the forfeit of your race.'

This said, Pisander from the car he cast,
And pierc'd his orcast: supine he breath'd his last.
His brother leap'd to earth; but as he lay,
The trenchant falchion lopp'd his hands away;
His sever'd head was toss d among the throng,
And, rolling, drew a bloody train along.
Then, where the thickest fought the victor flew;
The king's example all his Greeks pursue.
Now by the foot the flying foot were slain.
Horse trod by horse, lay foaming on the plain.
From the dry fields thick clouds of dust arise,
Shade the black host, and intercept the skies.
The brass-hoof'd steeds tumultuous plunge and
bound,

And the thick thunder beats the labouring ground.
Still slaughtering on, the king of men proceeds;
The distanc'd army wonders at his deeds.
As when the winds with raging flames conspire,
And o'er the forests roll the flood of fire,
In blazing heaps the grove's old honours fall,
And one refulgent ruin levels all;
Before Atrides' rage so sinks the foe,
Whole squadrons vanish, and proud heads lie low!
The steeds fly trembling from his waving sword;
And many a car, now lighted of its lord,
Wide o'er the fi id with guideiess fury rolls,
Breaking their ranks, and crushing out their souls;
While his keen falchion drinks the warriors'

lives;

More grateful, now, to vultures than their wives! Perhaps great Hector then had found his fate, But Jove and Destiny prolong'd his date.