The cloud-compelling G.o.d her suit approved, And smiled superior on his best beloved; Then call'd his coursers, and his chariot took; The stedfast firmament beneath them shook: Rapt by the ethereal steeds the chariot roll'd; Bra.s.s were their hoofs, their curling manes of gold: Of heaven's undrossy gold the G.o.ds array, Refulgent, flash'd intolerable day.

High on the throne he shines: his coursers fly Between the extended earth and starry sky.

But when to Ida's topmost height he came, (Fair nurse of fountains, and of savage game,) Where o'er her pointed summits proudly raised, His fane breathed odours, and his altar blazed: There, from his radiant car, the sacred sire Of G.o.ds and men released the steeds of fire: Blue ambient mists the immortal steeds embraced; High on the cloudy point his seat he placed; Thence his broad eye the subject world surveys, The town, and tents, and navigable seas.

Now had the Grecians s.n.a.t.c.h'd a short repast, And buckled on their shining arms with haste.

Troy roused as soon; for on this dreadful day The fate of fathers, wives, and infants lay.

The gates unfolding pour forth all their train; Squadrons on squadrons cloud the dusky plain: Men, steeds, and chariots shake the trembling ground, The tumult thickens, and the skies resound; And now with shouts the shocking armies closed, To lances lances, shields to shields opposed, Host against host with shadowy legends drew, The sounding darts in iron tempests flew; Victors and vanquish'd join promiscuous cries, Triumphant shouts and dying groans arise; With streaming blood the slippery fields are dyed, And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide.

Long as the morning beams, increasing bright, O'er heaven's clear azure spread the sacred light, Commutual death the fate of war confounds, Each adverse battle gored with equal wounds.

But when the sun the height of heaven ascends, The sire of G.o.ds his golden scales suspends,(192) With equal hand: in these explored the fate Of Greece and Troy, and poised the mighty weight: Press'd with its load, the Grecian balance lies Low sunk on earth, the Trojan strikes the skies.

Then Jove from Ida's top his horrors spreads; The clouds burst dreadful o'er the Grecian heads; Thick lightnings flash; the muttering thunder rolls; Their strength he withers, and unmans their souls.

Before his wrath the trembling hosts retire; The G.o.ds in terrors, and the skies on fire.

Nor great Idomeneus that sight could bear, Nor each stern Ajax, thunderbolts of war: Nor he, the king of war, the alarm sustain'd Nestor alone, amidst the storm remain'd.

Unwilling he remain'd, for Paris' dart Had pierced his courser in a mortal part; Fix'd in the forehead, where the springing man Curl'd o'er the brow, it stung him to the brain; Mad with his anguish, he begins to rear, Paw with his hoofs aloft, and lash the air.

Scarce had his falchion cut the reins, and freed The enc.u.mber'd chariot from the dying steed, When dreadful Hector, thundering through the war, Pour'd to the tumult on his whirling car.

That day had stretch'd beneath his matchless hand The h.o.a.ry monarch of the Pylian band, But Diomed beheld; from forth the crowd He rush'd, and on Ulysses call'd aloud:

"Whither, oh whither does Ulysses run?

Oh, flight unworthy great Laertes' son!

Mix'd with the vulgar shall thy fate be found, Pierced in the back, a vile, dishonest wound?

Oh turn and save from Hector's direful rage The glory of the Greeks, the Pylian sage."

His fruitless words are lost unheard in air, Ulysses seeks the ships, and shelters there.

But bold Tydides to the rescue goes, A single warrior midst a host of foes; Before the coursers with a sudden spring He leap'd, and anxious thus bespoke the king:

"Great perils, father! wait the unequal fight; These younger champions will oppress thy might.

Thy veins no more with ancient vigour glow, Weak is thy servant, and thy coursers slow.

Then haste, ascend my seat, and from the car Observe the steeds of Tros, renown'd in war.

Practised alike to turn, to stop, to chase, To dare the fight, or urge the rapid race: These late obey'd aeneas' guiding rein; Leave thou thy chariot to our faithful train; With these against yon Trojans will we go, Nor shall great Hector want an equal foe; Fierce as he is, even he may learn to fear The thirsty fury of my flying spear."

Thus said the chief; and Nestor, skill'd in war, Approves his counsel, and ascends the car: The steeds he left, their trusty servants hold; Eurymedon, and Sthenelus the bold: The reverend charioteer directs the course, And strains his aged arm to lash the horse.

Hector they face; unknowing how to fear, Fierce he drove on; Tydides whirl'd his spear.

The spear with erring haste mistook its way, But plunged in Eniopeus' bosom lay.

His opening hand in death forsakes the rein; The steeds fly back: he falls, and spurns the plain.

Great Hector sorrows for his servant kill'd, Yet unrevenged permits to press the field; Till, to supply his place and rule the car, Rose Archeptolemus, the fierce in war.

And now had death and horror cover'd all;(193) Like timorous flocks the Trojans in their wall Inclosed had bled: but Jove with awful sound Roll'd the big thunder o'er the vast profound: Full in Tydides' face the lightning flew; The ground before him flamed with sulphur blue; The quivering steeds fell prostrate at the sight; And Nestor's trembling hand confess'd his fright: He dropp'd the reins: and, shook with sacred dread, Thus, turning, warn'd the intrepid Diomed:

"O chief! too daring in thy friend's defence Retire advised, and urge the chariot hence.

This day, averse, the sovereign of the skies a.s.sists great Hector, and our palm denies.

Some other sun may see the happier hour, When Greece shall conquer by his heavenly power.

'Tis not in man his fix'd decree to move: The great will glory to submit to Jove."

"O reverend prince! (Tydides thus replies) Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise.

But ah, what grief! should haughty Hector boast I fled inglorious to the guarded coast.

Before that dire disgrace shall blast my fame, O'erwhelm me, earth; and hide a warrior's shame!"

To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied:(194) "G.o.ds! can thy courage fear the Phrygian's pride?

Hector may vaunt, but who shall heed the boast?

Not those who felt thy arm, the Dardan host, Nor Troy, yet bleeding in her heroes lost; Not even a Phrygian dame, who dreads the sword That laid in dust her loved, lamented lord."

He said, and, hasty, o'er the gasping throng Drives the swift steeds: the chariot smokes along; The shouts of Trojans thicken in the wind; The storm of hissing javelins pours behind.

Then with a voice that shakes the solid skies, Pleased, Hector braves the warrior as he flies.

"Go, mighty hero! graced above the rest In seats of council and the sumptuous feast: Now hope no more those honours from thy train; Go less than woman, in the form of man!

To scale our walls, to wrap our towers in flames, To lead in exile the fair Phrygian dames, Thy once proud hopes, presumptuous prince! are fled; This arm shall reach thy heart, and stretch thee dead."

Now fears dissuade him, and now hopes invite.

To stop his coursers, and to stand the fight; Thrice turn'd the chief, and thrice imperial Jove On Ida's summits thunder'd from above.

Great Hector heard; he saw the flashing light, (The sign of conquest,) and thus urged the fight:

"Hear, every Trojan, Lycian, Dardan band, All famed in war, and dreadful hand to hand.

Be mindful of the wreaths your arms have won, Your great forefathers' glories, and your own.

Heard ye the voice of Jove? Success and fame Await on Troy, on Greece eternal shame.

In vain they skulk behind their boasted wall, Weak bulwarks; destined by this arm to fall.

High o'er their slighted trench our steeds shall bound, And pa.s.s victorious o'er the levell'd mound.

Soon as before yon hollow ships we stand, Fight each with flames, and toss the blazing brand; Till, their proud navy wrapt in smoke and fires, All Greece, encompa.s.s'd, in one blaze expires."

Furious he said; then bending o'er the yoke, Encouraged his proud steeds, while thus he spoke:

"Now, Xanthus, aethon, Lampus, urge the chase, And thou, Podargus! prove thy generous race; Be fleet, be fearless, this important day, And all your master's well-spent care repay.

For this, high-fed, in plenteous stalls ye stand, Served with pure wheat, and by a princess' hand; For this my spouse, of great Aetion's line, So oft has steep'd the strengthening grain in wine.

Now swift pursue, now thunder uncontroll'd: Give me to seize rich Nestor's shield of gold; From Tydeus' shoulders strip the costly load, Vulcanian arms, the labour of a G.o.d: These if we gain, then victory, ye powers!

This night, this glorious night, the fleet is ours!"

That heard, deep anguish stung Saturnia's soul; She shook her throne, that shook the starry pole: And thus to Neptune: "Thou, whose force can make The stedfast earth from her foundations shake, Seest thou the Greeks by fates unjust oppress'd, Nor swells thy heart in that immortal breast?

Yet aegae, Helice, thy power obey,(195) And gifts unceasing on thine altars lay.

Would all the deities of Greece combine, In vain the gloomy Thunderer might repine: Sole should he sit, with scarce a G.o.d to friend, And see his Trojans to the shades descend: Such be the scene from his Idaean bower; Ungrateful prospect to the sullen power!"

Neptune with wrath rejects the rash design: "What rage, what madness, furious queen! is thine?

I war not with the highest. All above Submit and tremble at the hand of Jove."

Now G.o.dlike Hector, to whose matchless might Jove gave the glory of the destined fight, Squadrons on squadrons drives, and fills the fields With close-ranged chariots, and with thicken'd shields.

Where the deep trench in length extended lay, Compacted troops stand wedged in firm array, A dreadful front! they shake the brands, and threat With long-destroying flames the hostile fleet.

The king of men, by Juno's self inspired, Toil'd through the tents, and all his army fired.

Swift as he moved, he lifted in his hand His purple robe, bright ensign of command.

High on the midmost bark the king appear'd: There, from Ulysses' deck, his voice was heard: To Ajax and Achilles reach'd the sound, Whose distant ships the guarded navy bound.

"O Argives! shame of human race! (he cried: The hollow vessels to his voice replied,) Where now are all your glorious boasts of yore, Your hasty triumphs on the Lemnian sh.o.r.e?

Each fearless hero dares a hundred foes, While the feast lasts, and while the goblet flows; But who to meet one martial man is found, When the fight rages, and the flames surround?

O mighty Jove! O sire of the distress'd!

Was ever king like me, like me oppress'd?

With power immense, with justice arm'd in vain; My glory ravish'd, and my people slain!

To thee my vows were breathed from every sh.o.r.e; What altar smoked not with our victims' gore?

With fat of bulls I fed the constant flame, And ask'd destruction to the Trojan name.

Now, gracious G.o.d! far humbler our demand; Give these at least to 'scape from Hector's hand, And save the relics of the Grecian land!"

Thus pray'd the king, and heaven's great father heard His vows, in bitterness of soul preferr'd: The wrath appeased, by happy signs declares, And gives the people to their monarch's prayers.

His eagle, sacred bird of heaven! he sent, A fawn his talons truss'd, (divine portent!) High o'er the wondering hosts he soar'd above, Who paid their vows to Panomphaean Jove; Then let the prey before his altar fall; The Greeks beheld, and transport seized on all: Encouraged by the sign, the troops revive, And fierce on Troy with doubled fury drive.

Tydides first, of all the Grecian force, O'er the broad ditch impell'd his foaming horse, Pierced the deep ranks, their strongest battle tore, And dyed his javelin red with Trojan gore.

Young Agelaus (Phradmon was his sire) With flying coursers shunn'd his dreadful ire; Struck through the back, the Phrygian fell oppress'd; The dart drove on, and issued at his breast: Headlong he quits the car: his arms resound; His ponderous buckler thunders on the ground.

Forth rush a tide of Greeks, the pa.s.sage freed; The Atridae first, the Ajaces next succeed: Meriones, like Mars in arms renown'd, And G.o.dlike Idomen, now pa.s.sed the mound; Evaemon's son next issues to the foe, And last young Teucer with his bended bow.

Secure behind the Telamonian shield The skilful archer wide survey'd the field, With every shaft some hostile victim slew, Then close beneath the sevenfold orb withdrew: The conscious infant so, when fear alarms, Retires for safety to the mother's arms.

Thus Ajax guards his brother in the field, Moves as he moves, and turns the shining shield.

Who first by Teucer's mortal arrows bled?

Orsilochus; then fell Ormenus dead: The G.o.dlike Lycophon next press'd the plain, With Chromius, Daetor, Ophelestes slain: Bold Hamopaon breathless sunk to ground; The b.l.o.o.d.y pile great Melanippus crown'd.