A broken rock the force of Pyrus threw, (Who from cold aenus led the Thracian crew,)(142) Full on his ankle dropp'd the ponderous stone, Burst the strong nerves, and crash'd the solid bone.

Supine he tumbles on the crimson sands, Before his helpless friends, and native bands, And spreads for aid his unavailing hands.

The foe rush'd furious as he pants for breath, And through his navel drove the pointed death: His gushing entrails smoked upon the ground, And the warm life came issuing from the wound.

His lance bold Thoas at the conqueror sent, Deep in his breast above the pap it went, Amid the lungs was fix'd the winged wood, And quivering in his heaving bosom stood: Till from the dying chief, approaching near, The aetolian warrior tugg'd his weighty spear: Then sudden waved his flaming falchion round, And gash'd his belly with a ghastly wound; The corpse now breathless on the b.l.o.o.d.y plain, To spoil his arms the victor strove in vain; The Thracian bands against the victor press'd, A grove of lances glitter'd at his breast.

Stern Thoas, glaring with revengeful eyes, In sullen fury slowly quits the prize.

Thus fell two heroes; one the pride of Thrace, And one the leader of the Epeian race; Death's sable shade at once o'ercast their eyes, In dust the vanquish'd and the victor lies.

With copious slaughter all the fields are red, And heap'd with growing mountains of the dead.

Had some brave chief this martial scene beheld, By Pallas guarded through the dreadful field; Might darts be bid to turn their points away, And swords around him innocently play; The war's whole art with wonder had he seen, And counted heroes where he counted men.

So fought each host, with thirst of glory fired, And crowds on crowds triumphantly expired.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Map of the Plain of Troy.]

Map of the Plain of Troy.

BOOK V.

ARGUMENT.

THE ACTS OF DIOMED.

Diomed, a.s.sisted by Pallas, performs wonders in this day's battle.

Pandarus wounds him with an arrow, but the G.o.ddess cures him, enables him to discern G.o.ds from mortals, and prohibits him from contending with any of the former, excepting Venus. aeneas joins Pandarus to oppose him; Pandarus is killed, and aeneas in great danger but for the a.s.sistance of Venus; who, as she is removing her son from the fight, is wounded on the hand by Diomed. Apollo seconds her in his rescue, and at length carries off aeneas to Troy, where he is healed in the temple of Pergamus. Mars rallies the Trojans, and a.s.sists Hector to make a stand. In the meantime aeneas is restored to the field, and they overthrow several of the Greeks; among the rest Tlepolemus is slain by Sarpedon. Juno and Minerva descend to resist Mars; the latter incites Diomed to go against that G.o.d; he wounds him, and sends him groaning to heaven.

The first battle continues through this book. The scene is the same as in the former.

But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,(143) Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires, Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise, And crown her hero with distinguish'd praise.

High on his helm celestial lightnings play, His beamy shield emits a living ray; The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies, Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies, When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight, And, bathed in ocean, shoots a keener light.

Such glories Pallas on the chief bestow'd, Such, from his arms, the fierce effulgence flow'd: Onward she drives him, furious to engage, Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage.

The sons of Dares first the combat sought, A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault; In Vulcan's fane the father's days were led, The sons to toils of glorious battle bred; These singled from their troops the fight maintain, These, from their steeds, Tydides on the plain.

Fierce for renown the brother-chiefs draw near, And first bold Phegeus cast his sounding spear, Which o'er the warrior's shoulder took its course, And spent in empty air its erring force.

Not so, Tydides, flew thy lance in vain, But pierced his breast, and stretch'd him on the plain.

Seized with unusual fear, Idaeus fled, Left the rich chariot, and his brother dead.

And had not Vulcan lent celestial aid, He too had sunk to death's eternal shade; But in a smoky cloud the G.o.d of fire Preserved the son, in pity to the sire.

The steeds and chariot, to the navy led, Increased the spoils of gallant Diomed.

Struck with amaze and shame, the Trojan crew, Or slain, or fled, the sons of Dares view; When by the blood-stain'd hand Minerva press'd The G.o.d of battles, and this speech address'd:

"Stern power of war! by whom the mighty fall, Who bathe in blood, and shake the lofty wall!

Let the brave chiefs their glorious toils divide; And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide: While we from interdicted fields retire, Nor tempt the wrath of heaven's avenging sire."

Her words allay the impetuous warrior's heat, The G.o.d of arms and martial maid retreat; Removed from fight, on Xanthus' flowery bounds They sat, and listen'd to the dying sounds.

Meantime, the Greeks the Trojan race pursue, And some bold chieftain every leader slew: First Odius falls, and bites the b.l.o.o.d.y sand, His death enn.o.bled by Atrides' hand:

As he to flight his wheeling car address'd, The speedy javelin drove from back to breast.

In dust the mighty Halizonian lay, His arms resound, the spirit wings its way.

Thy fate was next, O Phaestus! doom'd to feel The great Idomeneus' protended steel; Whom Borus sent (his son and only joy) From fruitful Tarne to the fields of Troy.

The Cretan javelin reach'd him from afar, And pierced his shoulder as he mounts his car; Back from the car he tumbles to the ground, And everlasting shades his eyes surround.

Then died Scamandrius, expert in the chase, In woods and wilds to wound the savage race; Diana taught him all her sylvan arts, To bend the bow, and aim unerring darts: But vainly here Diana's arts he tries, The fatal lance arrests him as he flies; From Menelaus' arm the weapon sent, Through his broad back and heaving bosom went: Down sinks the warrior with a thundering sound, His brazen armour rings against the ground.

Next artful Phereclus untimely fell; Bold Merion sent him to the realms of h.e.l.l.

Thy father's skill, O Phereclus! was thine, The graceful fabric and the fair design; For loved by Pallas, Pallas did impart To him the shipwright's and the builder's art.

Beneath his hand the fleet of Paris rose, The fatal cause of all his country's woes; But he, the mystic will of heaven unknown, Nor saw his country's peril, nor his own.

The hapless artist, while confused he fled, The spear of Merion mingled with the dead.

Through his right hip, with forceful fury cast, Between the bladder and the bone it pa.s.s'd; p.r.o.ne on his knees he falls with fruitless cries, And death in lasting slumber seals his eyes.

From Meges' force the swift Pedaeus fled, Antenor's offspring from a foreign bed, Whose generous spouse, Theanor, heavenly fair, Nursed the young stranger with a mother's care.

How vain those cares! when Meges in the rear Full in his nape infix'd the fatal spear; Swift through his crackling jaws the weapon glides, And the cold tongue and grinning teeth divides.

Then died Hypsenor, generous and divine, Sprung from the brave Dolopion's mighty line, Who near adored Scamander made abode, Priest of the stream, and honoured as a G.o.d.

On him, amidst the flying numbers found, Eurypylus inflicts a deadly wound; On his broad shoulders fell the forceful brand, Thence glancing downwards, lopp'd his holy hand, Which stain'd with sacred blood the blushing sand.

Down sunk the priest: the purple hand of death Closed his dim eye, and fate suppress'd his breath.

Thus toil'd the chiefs, in different parts engaged.

In every quarter fierce Tydides raged; Amid the Greek, amid the Trojan train, Rapt through the ranks he thunders o'er the plain; Now here, now there, he darts from place to place, Pours on the rear, or lightens in their face.

Thus from high hills the torrents swift and strong Deluge whole fields, and sweep the trees along, Through ruin'd moles the rushing wave resounds, O'erwhelm's the bridge, and bursts the lofty bounds; The yellow harvests of the ripen'd year, And flatted vineyards, one sad waste appear!(144) While Jove descends in sluicy sheets of rain, And all the labours of mankind are vain.

So raged Tydides, boundless in his ire, Drove armies back, and made all Troy retire.

With grief the leader of the Lycian band Saw the wide waste of his destructive hand: His bended bow against the chief he drew; Swift to the mark the thirsty arrow flew, Whose forky point the hollow breastplate tore, Deep in his shoulder pierced, and drank the gore: The rushing stream his brazen armour dyed, While the proud archer thus exulting cried:

"Hither, ye Trojans, hither drive your steeds!

Lo! by our hand the bravest Grecian bleeds, Not long the deathful dart he can sustain; Or Phoebus urged me to these fields in vain."

So spoke he, boastful: but the winged dart Stopp'd short of life, and mock'd the shooter's art.

The wounded chief, behind his car retired, The helping hand of Sthenelus required; Swift from his seat he leap'd upon the ground, And tugg'd the weapon from the gushing wound; When thus the king his guardian power address'd, The purple current wandering o'er his vest:

"O progeny of Jove! unconquer'd maid!

If e'er my G.o.dlike sire deserved thy aid, If e'er I felt thee in the fighting field; Now, G.o.ddess, now, thy sacred succour yield.

O give my lance to reach the Trojan knight, Whose arrow wounds the chief thou guard'st in fight; And lay the boaster grovelling on the sh.o.r.e, That vaunts these eyes shall view the light no more."

Thus pray'd Tydides, and Minerva heard, His nerves confirm'd, his languid spirits cheer'd; He feels each limb with wonted vigour light; His beating bosom claim'd the promised fight.

"Be bold, (she cried), in every combat shine, War be thy province, thy protection mine; Rush to the fight, and every foe control; Wake each paternal virtue in thy soul: Strength swells thy boiling breast, infused by me, And all thy G.o.dlike father breathes in thee; Yet more, from mortal mists I purge thy eyes,(145) And set to view the warring deities.

These see thou shun, through all the embattled plain; Nor rashly strive where human force is vain.

If Venus mingle in the martial band, Her shalt thou wound: so Pallas gives command."

With that, the blue-eyed virgin wing'd her flight; The hero rush'd impetuous to the fight; With tenfold ardour now invades the plain, Wild with delay, and more enraged by pain.

As on the fleecy flocks when hunger calls, Amidst the field a brindled lion falls; If chance some shepherd with a distant dart The savage wound, he rouses at the smart, He foams, he roars; the shepherd dares not stay, But trembling leaves the scattering flocks a prey; Heaps fall on heaps; he bathes with blood the ground, Then leaps victorious o'er the lofty mound.

Not with less fury stern Tydides flew; And two brave leaders at an instant slew; Astynous breathless fell, and by his side, His people's pastor, good Hypenor, died; Astynous' breast the deadly lance receives, Hypenor's shoulder his broad falchion cleaves.

Those slain he left, and sprung with n.o.ble rage Abas and Polyidus to engage; Sons of Eurydamus, who, wise and old, Could fate foresee, and mystic dreams unfold; The youths return'd not from the doubtful plain, And the sad father tried his arts in vain; No mystic dream could make their fates appear, Though now determined by Tydides' spear.