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 sh.o.r.e."

Then o'er the trench the bounding coursers flew; The joyful Greeks with loud acclaim pursue.

Straight to Tydides' high pavilion borne, The matchless steeds his ample stalls 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-eyed maid.

Now from nocturnal sweat and sanguine stain They cleanse their bodies in the neighb'ring main: Then in the polished bath, refresh'd from toil, Their joints they supple with dissolving oil, In due repast indulge the genial hour, And first to Pallas the libations pour: They sit, rejoicing in her aid divine, And the crown'd goblet foams with floods of wine.

BOOK XI.

ARGUMENT

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 encompa.s.sed by the Trojans, wounded, and in the utmost danger, till Menelaus and Ajax rescue him. Hector comes against Ajax, but that hero alone opposes mult.i.tudes, and rallies the Greeks. In the meantime 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 remembered, tending to put Patroclus upon persuading Achilles to fight for his countrymen, or at least to permit him to do it, clad in Achilles' armour. Patroclus, on his return, meets Eurypylus also wounded, and a.s.sists 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,(219) Now rose refulgent from t.i.thonus' 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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.

Even Ajax and Achilles heard the sound, Whose ships, remote, the guarded navy bound, Thence the black fury through the Grecian throng With horror 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DESCENT OF DISCORD.]

THE DESCENT OF DISCORD.

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 dress'd, And first he cased his manly legs around In shining greaves with silver buckles bound; The beaming cuira.s.s next adorn'd his breast, The same which once king Cinyras possess'd: (The fame of Greece and her a.s.sembled 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 colour'd rainbows o'er a showery cloud (Jove's wondrous bow, of three celestial dies, Placed as a sign to man amidst the skies).

A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder tied, Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side: Gold was the hilt, a silver sheath encased The shining blade, and golden hangers graced.

His buckler's mighty orb was next display'd, That round the warrior cast a dreadful shade; Ten zones of bra.s.s its ample brim surround, And twice ten bosses the bright convex crown'd: Tremendous Gorgon frown'd upon its field, And circling terrors fill'd the 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 the embroider'd monster ends.

Last o'er his brows his fourfold helm he placed, With nodding horse-hair formidably graced; 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 promised Greece their aid; High o'er the chief they clash'd their arms in air, And, leaning from the clouds, expect the war.

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 wield The lighter arms, rush forward to the field.

To second these, in close array combined, The squadrons spread their sable wings behind.

Now shouts and tumults wake the tardy sun, As with the light the warriors' toils begun.

Even Jove, whose thunder spoke his wrath, distill'd Red drops of blood o'er all the fatal field;(220) The woes of men unwilling to survey, And all the slaughters that must stain the day.

Near Ilus' tomb, in order ranged around, The Trojan lines possess'd the rising ground: There wise Polydamas and Hector stood; aeneas, honour'd as a guardian G.o.d; Bold Polybus, Agenor the divine; The brother-warriors of Antenor's line: With youthful Acamas, whose beauteous face And fair proportion match'd the ethereal race.

Great Hector, cover'd with his s.p.a.cious 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 G.o.dlike man, Plunged 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, Ranged in two bands, their crooked weapons wield, Bear down the furrows, till their labours meet; Thick fall the heapy harvests 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;(221) 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 the immortal train, Swells the red horrors of this direful plain: The G.o.ds in peace their golden mansions fill, Ranged in bright order on the Olympian hill: But general murmurs told their griefs above, And each accused the partial will of Jove.

Meanwhile apart, superior, and alone, The 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 gored with equal wounds.

But now (what time in some sequester'd vale The weary woodman spreads his sparing meal, When his tired arms refuse the axe to rear, And claim a respite from the sylvan war; But not till half the prostrate forests lay Stretch'd in long ruin, and exposed to day) Then, nor till then, the Greeks' impulsive might Pierced 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 pierced his brain, and stretch'd him on the ground.

Atrides spoil'd, and left them 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 beauteous bodies lie.

Two sons of Priam next to battle move, The product, one of marriage, one of love:(222) 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 restored; But now to perish by Atrides' sword: Pierced 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 gra.s.sy lair, the couching fawns, Their bones he cracks, their reeking vitals draws, And grinds the quivering flesh with b.l.o.o.d.y 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 the chariot on their knees they fall, And thus with lifted hands for mercy call:

"O 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 bra.s.s in ransom shall be told, And steel well-tempered, and persuasive gold."

These words, attended with the 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 pierced his breast: supine he breathed 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 bra.s.s-hoof'd steeds tumultuous plunge and bound, And the thick thunder beats the labouring ground, Still slaughtering on, the king of men proceeds; The distanced 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 field with guideless 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.

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 the adjoining summit crown, The path they take, and speed to reach the town.

As swift, Atrides with loud shouts pursued, Hot with his toil, and bathed in hostile blood.

Now near the beech-tree, and the Scaean gates, The hero halts, and his a.s.sociates waits.

Meanwhile on every side around the plain, Dispersed, disorder'd, fly the Trojan train.

So flies a herd of beeves, that hear 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 the Idaean hills, And down their summits pour'd a hundred rills: The unkindled lightning in his hand he took, And thus the many-coloured maid bespoke:

"Iris, with haste thy golden wings display, To G.o.dlike 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.