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The generous Greeks recede with tardy pace,
Though Mars and Hector thunder in their face;
None turn their backs to mean ignoble flight,
Slow they retreat, and e'en retreating fight.
Who first, who last, by Mars' and Hector's hand,
Stretch'd in their blood, lay gasping on the sand?
Teuthras the great, Orestes the renown'd
For managed steeds, and Trechus press'd the ground;
Next (Enomaus, and Enops' offspring died;
Oresbius last fell groaning at their side:
Oresbius in his painted mitre gay,

In fat Boeotia held his wealthy sway,

Where lakes surround low Hyle's watry plain,
A prince and people studious of their gain.

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870 Through such a space of air, with thundering sound,
At every leap the immortal coursers bound:
Troy now they reach'd, and touch'd those banks divine
Where silver Simoïs and Scamander join.

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And touch'd with grief, bespoke the blue-eyed maid:
Oh sight accursed! shall faithless Troy prevail,
And shall our promise to our people fail?
How vain the word to Menelaüs given

There Juno stopp'd (and her fair steeds unloosed), Of air condensed a vapour circumfused

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The carnage Juno from the skies survey'd,

By Jove's great daughter and the queen of heaven,
Beneath his arms that Priam's towers should fall;
If warring gods for ever guard the wall!
Mars, red with slaughter, aids our hated foes:
Haste, let us arm, and force with force oppose!

She spoke Minerva burns to meet the war:
And now heaven's empress calls her blazing car.
At her command rush forth the steeds divine;
Rich with immortal gold their trappings shine.
Bright Hebe waits; by Hebè ever young,
The whirling wheels are to the chariot hung,
On the bright axle turns the bidden wheel
Of sounding brass; the polish'd axle steel.
Eight brazen spokes in radiant order flame;
The circles gold, of uncorrupted frame,

Such as the heavens produce: and round the gold
Two brazen rings of work divine were roll'd.
The bossy naves of solid silver shone;
Braces of gold suspend the moving throne:
The car behind an arching figure bore;
The bending concave form'd an arch before ;
Silver the beam, the extended yoke was gold,
And golden reins the immortal coursers hold.
Herself, impatient, to the ready car

The coursers join, and breathes revenge and war.
Pallas disrobes; her radiant veil untied,

With flowers adorn'd, with art diversified (The labour'd veil her heavenly fingers wove), Flows on the pavement of the court of Jove.

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For these, impregnate with celestial dew,
On Simoïs' brink ambrosial herbage grew.
Thence to relieve the fainting Argive throng,
Smooth as the sailing doves, they glide along.
The best and bravest of the Grecian band
(A warlike cirele) round Tydides stand:
Such was their look as lions bathed in blood,
Or foaming boars, the terror of the wood.
Heaven's empress mingles with the mortal crowd,
885 And shouts, in Stentor's sounding voice, aloud;
Stentor the strong, endued with brazen lungs,
Whose throat surpass'd the force of fifty tongues:
Inglorious Argives! to your race a shame,
And only men in figure and in name!

899 Once from the walls your timorous foes engaged,
While fierce in war divine Achilles raged;
Now issuing fearless they possess the plain,
Now win the shores, and scarce the seas remain.
Her speech new fury to their hearts convey'd;
895 While near Tydides stood the Athenian maid;
The king beside his panting steeds she found,
O'erspent with toil, reposing on the ground:
To cool his glowing wound he sat apart
(The wound inflicted by the Lycian dart);
900 Large drops of sweat from all his limbs descend,
Beneath his ponderous shield his sinews bend,
Whose ample belt, that o'er his shoulder lay,
He eased; and wash'd the clotted gore away.
The goddess leaning o'er the bending yoke,
Beside his coursers, thus her silence broke:
Degenerate prince! and not of Tydeus' kind,
Whose little body lodged a mighty mind;
Foremost he press'd in glorious toils to share,
And scarce refrain'd when I forbade the war.
Alone, unguarded, once he dared to go
And feast, encircled by the Theban foe;

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Now heaven's dread arms her mighty limbs invest,
Jove's cuirass blazes on her ample breast;
Deck'd in sad triumph for the mournful field,
O'er her broad shoulders hangs his horrid shield,
Dire, black, tremendous! Round the margin roll'd,
A fringe of serpents hissing guards the gold:
Here all the terrors of grim war appear,
Here rages Force, here tremble Flight and Fear,
Here storm'd Contention, and here Fury frown'd,
And the dire orb portentous Gorgon crown'd.
The massy golden helm she next assumes,
That dreadful nods with four o'ershading plumes,
So vast, the broad circumference contains
A hundred armies on a hundred plains.
The goddess thus the imperial car ascends,
Shook by her arm the mighty javelin bends,
Ponderous and huge; that, when her fury burns,
Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns.

Swift at the scourge the ethereal coursers fly,
While the smooth chariot cuts the liquid sky.
Heaven's gates spontaneous open to the powers,
Heaven's golden gates, kept by the winged Hours;
Commission'd in alternate watch they stand,
The sun's bright portals and the skies command,
Involve in clouds the eternal gates of day,
Or the dark barrier roll with ease away.
The sounding hinges ring: on either side
The gloomy volumes, pierced with light, divide.
The chariot mounts, where deep in ambient skies
Confused, Olympus' hundred heads arise;
Where far apart the Thunderer fills his throne;
O'er all the gods superior and alone.
There with her snowy hand the queen restrains
The fiery steeds, and thus to Jove complains:

O sire! can no resentment touch thy soul?
Can Mars rebel, and does no thunder roll?
What lawless rage on yon forbidden plain!
What rash destruction and what heroes slain !
Venus, and Phoebus with the dreadful bow,
Smile on the slaughter, and enjoy my woe.
Mad, furious power! whose unrelenting mind
No god can govern, and no justice bind.
day, mighty father! shall we scourge his pride,
And drive from fight the impetuous homicide?

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920 Not fear thou know'st, withholds me from the plains,
Nor sloth hath seized me, but thy word restrains;
From warring gods thou badest me turn my spear,
And Venus only found resistance here,
Hence, goddess! heedful of thy high commands,

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925 Loath I gave way, and warn'd our Argive bands:
For Mara, the homicide, these eyes beheld,
With slaughter red, and raging round the field.
Then thus Minerva: Brave Tydides, hear!
Not Mars himself, nor aught immortal, fear.
Full on the god impel thy foaming horse:
Pallas commands, and Pallas lends thee force.
Rash, furious, blind, from these to those he flies,
And every side of wavering combat tries;
Large promise makes, and breaks the promise made;
935 Now gives the Grecians, now the Trojans aid.

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Full at the chief, above his coursers' head,
From Mars's arm the enormous weapon fled:
Pallas opposed her hand, and caused to glance
Far from the car, the strong immortal lance.
Then threw the force of Tydeus' warlike son;
The javelin hiss'd; the goddess urged it on:
Where the broad cincture girt his armour round,
It pierced the god; his groin received the wound.
From the rent skin the warrior tugs again
The smoking steel. Mars bellows with the pain:
Loud as the roar encountering armies yield,
When shouting millions shake the thundering field.
Both armies start, and trembling gaze around;
And earth and heaven rebellow to the sound.
As vapours blown by Auster's sultry breath,
Pregnant with plagues, and shedding seeds of death,
Beneath the rage of burning Sirius rise,

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Choke the parch'd earth, and blacken all the skies;
In such a cloud the god from combat driven,
High o'er the dusty whirlwind scales the heaven.
Wild with his pain, he sought the bright abodes.
There sullen sat beneath the sire of gods,
Shew'd the celestial blood, and with a groan

Thus pour'd his plaints before the immortal throne :

Can Jove, supine, flagitious facts survey,

And brook the furies of this daring day?

For mortal men celestial powers engage,

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And gods on gods exert eternal rage.

From thee, O father! all these ills we bear,

BOOK VI.

ARGUMENT

The Episodes of Glaucus and Diomed, and of Hector and Andromache.

The gods having left the field, the Grecians prevail. Helenus, the chief augur of Troy, commands Hector to return to the city, in order to appoint a solemn procession of the queen and the Trojan matrons to the temple of Minerva, to entreat her to remove Diomed from the fight. The battle re laxing during the absence of Hector, Glaucus and Diomed have an interview between the two ar mies; where coming to the knowledge of the friendship and hospitality past between their ancestors, they make exchange of their arms. Hector having performed the orders of Helenus, prevails upon Paris to return to the battle; and taking a tender leave of his wife Andromache, hastens again to the field. The scene is first in the field of battle, between the river Simois and Scamander, and then changes to Troy.

And thy fell daughter with the shield and spear:
Thon gavest that fury to the realms of light,
Pernicious, wild, regardless of the right.
All heaven beside reveres thy sovereign sway,
Thy voice we hear, and thy behests obey:
"Tis her to offend, and e'en offending share
Thy breast, thy counsels, thy distinguish'd care:
So boundless she, and thou so partial grown,
Well may we deem the wondrous birth thy own
Now frantic Diomed, at her command,
Against the immortals lifts his raging hand:
The heavenly Venus first his fury found,
Me next encountering, me he dared to wound:
Vanquish'd I fled e'en I, the god of fight,
From mortal madness scarce was saved by flight.
Else hadst thou seen me sink on yonder plain,
Heap'd round, and heaving under loads of slain!
Or, pierced with Grecian darts, for ages lie,
Condemn'd to pain, though fated not to die.
Him thus upbraiding, with a wrathful look
The lord of thunders view'd, and stern bespoke.
To me, perfidious! this lamenting strain?
Of lawless force shall lawless Mars complain?
Of all the gods who tread the spangled skies,
Thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes!
Inhuman discord is thy dire delight,
The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight.
No bound, no law, thy fiery temper quells,
And all thy mother in thy soul rebels.

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Great Ajax first to conquest led the way, Broke the thick ranks, and turn'd the doubtful day. The Thracian Acamas his falchion found,

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And hew'd the enormous giant to the ground:
His thundering arm a deadly stroke impress'd
Where the black horse-hair nodded o'er his crest.
Fix'd in his front the brazen weapon lies,
And seals in endless shades his swimming eyes.
Next Teuthras' son distain'd the sands with blood,
Axylus, hospitable, rich, and good:

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Where chain'd on burning rocks the Titans groan.
Thus he who shakes Olympus with his nod⚫
Then gave to Pæon's care the bleeding god.
With gentle hand the balm he pour'd around,
And heal'd the immortal flesh, and olosed the wound
As when the fig's press'd juice, infused in cream,
To curds coagulates the liquid stream,

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In fair Arisba's walls (his native place)
He held his seat; a friend to human race.
Fast by the road, his ever open door
Obliged the wealthy, and relieved the poor.
To stern Tydides now he falls a prey,
No friend to guard him in the dreadful day!
Breathless the good man fell, and by his side
His faithful servant, old Calesius, died.
By great Euryalus was Dresus slain,
And next he laid Opheltius on the plain.
Two twins were near, bold, beautiful, and young
From a fair Naiad and Bucolion sprung:
(Laomedon's white flocks Bucolion fed,
That monarch's first-born by a foreign bed;
In secret woods he won the Naiad's grace,
And two fair infants crown'd his strong embrace).
Here dead they lay in all their youthful charms
The ruthless victor stripp'd their shining arms.
Astyalus by Polypoetes fell;

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Sudden the fluids fix, the parts combined;

Such, and so soon, the ethereal texture join'd,

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Cleansed from the dust and gore, fair Hebé dress'd

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Ulysses' spear Pidytes sent to hell;
By Teucer's shaft brave Aretaön bled,
And Nestor's son laid stern Ablerus dead.
Great Agamemnon, leader of the brave,
The mortal wound of rich Elatus gave,
Who held in Pedasus his proud abode,
And till'd the banks where silver Satnio flow'd.
Melanthius by Eurypylus was slain;
And Phylacus from Leitus flies in vain.

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Their task perform'd, and mix among the gods.

Unblest Adrastus next at mercy lies Beneath the Spartan spear, a living prize. Scared with the din and tumult of the fight, His headlong steeds precipitate in flight, Rush'd on a tamarisk's strong trunk, and broke The shatter'd chariot from the crooked yoke. Wide o'er the field, resistless as the wind, For Troy they fly, and leave their lord behind. Prone on his face he sinks beside the wheel· Atrides o'er him shakes his vengeful steel; The fallen chief in suppliant posture press'd The victor's knees, and thus his prayer address d:

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Oh, spare my youth! and for the life I owe
Large gifts of price my father shall bestow.
When fame shall tell, that, not in battle slain,
Thy hollow ships his captive son detain;
Rich heaps of brass shall in thy tent be told,
And steel well-temper'd, and persuasive gold.
He said: compassion touch'd the hero's heart;
He stood, suspended, with the lifted dart:
As pity pleaded for his vanquish'd prize,
Stern Agamemnon swift to vengeance flies,
And furious thus: Oh impotent of mind!
Shall these, shall these Atrides' mercy find?

Well hast thou known proud Troy's perfidious land,
And well her natives merit at thy hand!

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Between both armies met: the chiefs from far
Observed each other, and had mark'd for war.
Near as they drew, Tydides thus began:

What art thou, boldest of the race of man?
Our eyes, till now, that aspect ne'er beheld,
Where fame is reap'd amid the embattled field
Yet far before the troops thou darest appear,
And meet a lance the fiercest heroes fear.
65 Unhappy they, and born of luckless sires,
Who tempt our fury when Minerva fires!
But if from heaven, celestial thou descend;
Know, with immortals we no more contend.
Not long Lycurgus view'd the golden light,
That daring man who mix'd with gods in tight
Bacchus, and Bacchus' votaries, he drove,
With brandish'd steel from Nyssa's sacred grove
Their consecrated spears lay scatter'd round,
With curling vines and twisted ivy bound;
While Bacchus headlong sought the briny flood,
And Thetis' arms received the trembling god,
Nor fail'd the crime the immortals' wrath to move
(The immortals blest with endless ease above);
Deprived of sight by their avenging doom,

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Not one of ail the race, nor sex, nor age,
Shall save a Trojan from our boundless rage:
flion shall perish whole, and bury all;

Her babes, her infants at the breast, shall fall :
A dreadful lesson of exampled fate,

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To warn the nations, and to curb the great!

The monarch spoke; the words with warmth addrest,
To rigid justice steel'd his brother's breast.
Fierce from his knees the hapless chief he thrust
The monarch's javelin stretch'd him in the dust,
Then pressing with his foot his panting heart,
Forth from the slain he tugg'd the reeking dart
Old Nestor saw, and roused the warrior's rage:
Thus, heroes! thus the vigorous combat wage!
No son of Mars descend, for servile gains,
To touch the booty, while a foe remains.
Behold yon glittering host, your future spoil!
First gain the conquest, then reward the toil.
And now had Greece eternal fame acquired.
And frighten'd Troy within her walls retired,
Had not sage Helenus her state redress d,
Taught by the gods that moved his sacred breast.
Where Hector stood with great Æneas join'd,
The seer reveal'd the cour sels of his mind:

Ye generous chiefs! on whom the immortals lay
The cares and glories of this doubtful day;
On whom your aids', your country's hope depend
Wise to consult, and active to defend !
Here, at our gates, your brave efforts unite,
Turn back the routed, and forbid the flight;
Ere yet their wives' soft arms the cowards gain,
The sport and insult of the hostile train.
When your commands have hearten'd every band,
Ourselves, here fix'd, will make the dangerous stand;
Press'd as we are, and sore of former tight,
These straits demand our last remains of might.
Meanwhile, thou, Hector, to the town retire,
And teach our mother what the gods require:
Direct the queen to lead the assembled train
Of Troy's chief matrons to Minerva's fane;
Unbar the sacred gates, and seek the power
With offer'd vows, in Ilion's topmost tower.
'The largest mantle her rich wardrobes hold,
Most prized for art, and labour'd o'er with gold
Before the goddess' honour'd knees be spread
And twelve young heifers to the altars led:
If so the power, atoned by fervent prayer,
Our wives, our infants, and our city spare,
And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire,

80 Cheerless he breathed, and wander'd in the gloom
Then sunk unpitied to the dire abodes,
A wretch accurst and hated by the gods!
I brave not heaven: but if the fruits of earth
Sustain thy life, and human be thy birth.
35 Bold as thou art, too prodigal of breath,
Approach, and enter the dark gates of death.
What, or from whence I am, or who my sire
(Replied the chief), can Tydeus' son inquire?
Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,
90 Now green in youth, now withering on the ground
Another race the following spring supplies;
They fall successive, and successive rise:
So generations in their course decay;
So flourish these when those are past away.
95 But if thou still persist to search my birth,

Then hear a tale that fills the spacious earth:
A city stands on Argos' utmost bound
(Argos the fair, for warlike steeds renown'd);
Eolian Sisyphus, with wisdom bless'd,
100 In ancient time the happy walls possess'd,
Then call'd Ephyrè: Glaucus was his son;
Great Glaucus, father of Bellerophon,
Who o'er the sons of men in beauty shined,
Loved for that valour which preserves mankind.
Then mighty Prætus Argos' sceptre sway'd,
Whose hard commands Bellerophon obey'd.
With direful jealousy the monarch raged,

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And the brave prince in numerous toils engage
For him Antæa burn'd with lawless flame,

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125 The fatal tablets, till that instant seal'd,
The deathful secret to the king reveal'd.
First, dire Chimera's conquest was enjoin'd:
A mingled monster, of no mortal kind;
Behind, a dragon's fiery tail was spread;
A goat's rough body bore a lion's head;
Her pitchy nostrils flaky flames expire;
Her gaping throat emits infernal fire.

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That mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire.
Not thus Achilles taught our hosts to dread,
Sprung though he was from more than mortal bed
Not thus resistless ruled the stream of fight,
In rage unbounded, and unmatch'd in might.
Hector obedient heard; and, with a bound,
Leap'd from his trembling chariot to the ground
Through all his host, inspiring force, he flies,
And bids the thunder of the battle rise.
With rage recruited the bold Trojans glow,
And turn the tide of conflict on the foe:
Fierce in the front he shakes two dazzling spears:
All Greece recedes, and 'midst her triumphs fears:
Some god, they thought, who ruled the fate of wars,
Shot down avenging, from the vault of stars.

Then thus aloud: Ye dauntless Dardans hear!
And you whom distant nations send to war!
Be mindful of the strength your fathers bore;
Be still yourselves, and Hector asks no more.
One hour demands me in the Trojan wall,
To bid our altars flame, and victims fall:
Nor shall, I trust, the matrons' holy train
And reverend elders, seek the gods in vain.

This said, with ample strides the hero pass'd:
The shield's large orb behind his shoulder cast,
His neck o'ershading, to his ancle hung;
And as he march'd, the brazen buckler rung.

Now paused the battle (godlike Hector gone)
When daring Glaucus and great Tydeus' son

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This pest he slaughter'd (for he read the skies,
And trusted heaven's informing prodigies):
Then met in arms the Solyman crew
(Fiercest of men), and those the warrior slew
Next the bold Amazons' whole force defied;
And conquer'd still, for heaven was on his side.
Nor ended here his toils: his Lycian foes,
140 At his return, a treacherous ambush rose,
With levell'd spears along the winding shore;
There fell they breathless, and return'd no more
At length the monarch with repentant grief
Confess'd the gods, and god-descended chief;
145 His daughter gave, the stranger to detain,
With half the honours of his ample reign:
The Lycians grant a chosen space of ground,
With woods, with vineyards, and with harvests crown'd

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Woes heap'd on woes consumed his wasted heart;
His beauteous daughter fell by Phoebe's dart;
In eldest-born by raging Mars was slain,
His combat on the Solymaan plain.
Hippolochus survived; from him I came,
The honour'd author of my birth and name;
By his decree I sought the Trojan town,
By his instructions learn to win renown,
To stand the first in worth as in command,
To add new honours to my native land,
Before my eyes my mighty sires to place,
And emulate the glories of our race.

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A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way!

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Let chiefs abstain, and spare the sacred juice
To sprinkle to the gods, its better use.
By me that holy office were profaned;
Ill fits it me, with human gore distain'd,
To the pure skies these horrid hands to raise,
Or offer heaven's great sire polluted praise.
You with your inatrons go, a spotless train!
And burn rich odours in Minerva's fane.
The largest mantle your full wardrobes hold,
Most prized for art, and labour'd o'er with gold,
Before the goddess' honour'd knees be spread,
And twelve young heifers to her altar led.
So may the power, atoned by fervent prayer,
Our wives, our infants, and our city spare,

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This heard, she gave command; and summon'd came
Each noble matron and illustrious dame,
The Phrygian queen to her rich wardrobe went,
Where treasured odours breathed a costly scent.
There lay the vestures of no vulgar art,
270 Sidonian maids embroider'd every part,

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He spoke, and transport fill'd Tydides' heart
In earth the generous warrior fix'd his dart,
Then friendly, thus, the Lycian prince address'd ·
Welcome, my brave hereditary guest!
Thus ever let us meet, with kind embrace,
Nor stain the sacred friendship of our race.
Know, chief, our grandsires have been guests of old,
Eneus the strong, Bellerophon the bold:
Our ancient seat his honour'd presence graced,
Where twenty days in genial rites he pass'd.
The parting heroes mutual presents left;

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Whom from soft Sidon youthful Paris bore,
With Helen touching on the Tyrian shore.
Here as the queen revolved with careful eyes
The various textures and the various dyes,
275 She chose a veil that shone superior far,

And glow'd refulgent as the morning star,
Herself with this the long procession leads;
The train majestically slow proceeds.
Soon as to Ilion's topmost tower they come,
280 And awful reach the high Palladian dome.
Antenor's consort, fair Theano, waite
As Pallas' priestess, and unbars the gates.
With hands uplifted, and imploring eyes,
They fill the dome with supplicating cries.
285 The priestess then the shining yeil displays
Placed on Minerva's knees, and thus she prays
Oh awful goddess! ever-dreadful maid,
Troy's strong defence, unconquer'd Pallas, aid!
Break thou Tydides' spear, and let him fall
Prone on the dust before the Trojan wall.
So twelve young heifers, guiltless of the yoke.
Shall fill thy temple with a grateful smoke.
But thou, atoned by penitence and prayer,
Ourselves, our infants, and our city spare!
295 So pray'd the priestess in her holy fane;

A golden goblet was thy grandsire's gift;
Eneus a belt of matchless work bestow'd,
That rich with Tyrian dye refulgent glow'd.
(This from his pledge I learn'd, which safely stored
Among my treasures, still adorns my board:
For Tydeus left me young, when Thebe's wall
Beheld the sons of Greece untimely fall.)
Mindful of this, in friendship let us join;
If heaven our steps to foreign lands incline.
My guest in Agros thou, and I in Lycia thine.
Enough of Trojans to this lance shall yield,
In the full harvest of yon ample field;
Enough of Greeks shall dye thy spear with gore;
But thou and Diomed be foes no more.
Now change we arms, and prove to either host
We guard the friendship of the line we boast.
Thus having said, the gallant chiefs alight,
Their hands they join, their mutual faith they plight;
Brave Glaucus then each narrow thought resign'd
(Jove warm'd his bosom and enlarged his mind :)
For Diomed's brass arms, of mean device,
For which nine oxen paid (a vulgar price),
He gave his own, of gold divinely wrought;
A hundred beeves the shining purchase bought.
Meantime the guardian of the Trojan state,
Great Hector, enter'd at the Scæan gate.
Beneath the beech-trees' consecrated shades,
The Trojan matrons and the Trojan maids
Around him flock'd, all press'd with pious care
For husbands, brothers, sons, engaged in war.
He bids the train in long procession go,
And seek the gods to avert the impending woe.
And now to Priam's stately courts he came,
Raised on arch'd columns of stupendous frame;
O'er these a range of marble structure runs,
The rich pavilions of his fifty sons,

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So vow'd the matrons, but they vow'd in vain.
While these appear before the power with prayers,
Hector to Paris' lofty dome repairs,
Himself the mansion raised, from every part

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Near Priam's court and Hector's palace stands
The pompous structure, and the town commands
A spear the hero bore of wondrous strength,
Of full ten cubits was the lance's length,
305 The steely point with golden ringlets join'd,
Before him brandish'd, at each motion shined,
Thus entering, in the glittering rooms he found
His brother-chief, whose useless arms lay round,
His eyes delighting with their splendid show,
Brightening the shield, and polishing the bow
Beside him Helen with her virgins stands,
Guides their rich labours, and instructs their hands
Him thus inactive, with an ardent look
The prince beheld, and high resenting spoke.
315 Thy hate to Troy, is this the time to shew?
(Oh wretch ill-fated, and thy country's foe!)
Paris and Greece against us both conspire
Thy close resentment, and their vengeful ire.
For the great Ilion's guardian heroes fall,
Till heaps of dead alone defend her wall;
For thee the soldier bleeds, the matren mourns,
And wasteful war in all its fury burns.
Ungrateful man! deserves not this thy care,
Our troops to hearten, and our toils to share?
325 Rise, or behold the conquering flames ascend
And all the Phrygian glories at an end.
Brother, 'tis just, (replied the beauteous youth):
Thy free remonstrance proves thy worth and truth:
Yet charge my absence less, oh generous chief!
On hate to Troy, than conscious shame and grief:
Here, hid from human eyes, thy brother sat,
And mourn'd, in secret, his and Ilion's fate."

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In fifty chambers lodged: and rooms of state
Opposed to those, where Priam's daughters sate.
Twelve domes for them and their loved spouses shone,
Of equal beauty, and of polish'd stone.
Hither great Hector pass'd, nor pass'd unseen
Of royal Hecuba, his mother queen,
(With her Laodicè, whose beauteous face
Surpass'd the nymphs of Troy's illustrious race)
Long in a strict embrace she held her son,
And press'd his hand, and tender thus begun :
O Hector! say, what great occasion calls
My son from fight, when Greece surrounds our walls?
Comest thou to supplicate the almighty power,
With lifted hands from Ilion's lofty tower?
Stay, till I bring the cup with Bacchus crown'd,
In Jove's high name, to sprinkle on the ground,
And pay due vows to all the gods around.

Then with a plenteous draught refresh thy soul,
And draw new spirits from the generous bowl.
Spent as thou art with long laborious fight,
The brave defender of thy country's right.

Far hence be Bacchus' gifts (the chief rejoin'd):
Inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind.
Unnerves the limbs, and dulls the noble mind.

"Tis now enough: now glory spreads her charms,
And beauteous Helen calls her chief to arms.
Conquest to-day my happier sword may bless,
Tis man's to fight, but heaven's to give success
But while I arm, contain thy ardent mind;
Or go, and Paris shall not lag behind.

He said, nor answer'd Priam's warlike son;
When Helen thus with lowly grace begun :

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430 No parent now remains my griefs to share,
No father's aid, no mother's tender care.
The fierce Achilles wrapp'd our walls in fire,
Laid Thebe waste, and slew my warlike sire!
His fate compassion in the victor bred;
Stern as he was, he yet revered the dead,
His radiant arms preserved from hostile spoil,
And laid him decent on the funeral pile:

525

Oh generous brother! if the guilty dame
That caused these woes deserve a sister's name!
Would heaven, ere all these dreadful deeds were done,
The day, that shew'd me to the golden sun,
Had seen my death! Why did not whirlwinds bear
The fatal infant to the fowls of air?

Why sunk I not beneath the whelming tide,
And 'midst the roarings of the waters died?
Heaven fill'd up all my ills, and I accurst
Bore all, and Paris of those ills the worst.
Helen at least a braver spouse might claim,
Warm'd with some virtue, some regard of fame!
Now, tired with toils, thy fainting limbs recline,
With toils, sustain'd for Paris' sake and mine:
The gods have link'd our miserable doom,
Dur present woe, and infamy to come:
Wide shall it spread, and last through ages long,
Example sad! and theme of future song.

The chief replied: This time forbids to rest:
The Trojan bands, by hostile fury press'd,
Demand their Hector, and his arm require;
The combat urges, and my soul's on fire.
Urge thou thy knight to march where glory calls,
And timely join me, ere I leave the walls.
Ere yet I mingle in the direful fray,
My wife, my infant, claim a moment's stay;
This day (perhaps the last that sees me here
Demands a parting word, a tender tear:
This day some god who hates our Trojan land,
May vanquish Hector by a Grecian hand.

He said, and pass'd with sad presaging heart
To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part;
At home he sought her, but he sought in vain:
She, with one maid of all her menial train,
Had thence retired; and with her second joy,
The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy:
Pensive she stood on Ilion's towery height,
Beheld the war, and sicken'd at the sight;
There her sad eyes in vain her lord explore,
Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore.
But he who found not whom his soul desired,
Whose virtue charm'd him as her beauty fired,
Stood in the gates, and ask'd what way she bent
Her parting step? If to the fane she went,
Where late the mourning matrons made resort:
Or sought her sisters in the Trojan court?
Not to the court (replied the attendant train),
Nor mix'd with matrons to Minerva's fane:
To Ilion's steepy tower she bent her way,
To mark the fortunes of the doubtful day.
Troy fled, she heard, before the Grecian sword
She heard, and trembled for her absent lord
Distracted with surprise, she seem'd to fly,
Fear on her cheek, and sorrow in her eye.
The nurse attended with her infant boy,
The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy.

Hector, this heard, return'd without delay;
Swift through the town he trod his former way,
Through streets of palaces, and walks of state:
And met the mourner at the Scæan gate.
With haste to meet him sprung the joyful fair,
His blameless wife, Action's wealthy heir:
(Cilician Thebe great Aëtion sway'd,
And Hippoplacus' wide extended shade).
The nurse stood near, in whose embraces press'à.
His only hope hung smiling at her breast,
Whom each soft charm and early grace adorn,
Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn.
To this loved infant Hector gave the name
Scamandrius, from Scamander's honour'd stream;
Astyanax the Trojans call'd the boy,
From his great father, the defence of Troy.
Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased resign'd
To tender passions all his mighty mind:
His beauteous princess cast a mournful look,
Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke;
Her bosom labour'd with a boding sigh,
And the big tear stood trembling in her eye.
Too daring prince! ah, whither dost thou run
Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son!
And think'st thou not how wretched we shall be,
A widow I, an helpless orphan he!
For sure such courage length of life denies
And thou must fall, thy virtue's sacrifice.

Then raised a mountain where his bones were burn'd:
The mountain-nymphs the rural tomb adorn'd:

440 Jove's sylvan daughters bade their elms bestow
A barren shade, and in his honour grow.

By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell;
In one sad day beheld the gates of hell:
While the fat herds and snowy flocks they fed,
445 Amid their fields the hapless heroes bled!

My mother lived to bear the victor's bands,
The queen of Hippoplacia's sylvan lands:
Redeem'd too late, she scarce beheld again
Her pleasing empire and her native plain,
450 When ah! oppress'd by life-consuming woe,
She fell a victim to Diana's bow.

Yet, while my Hector still survives, I see
My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee:
Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all
455 Once more will perish, if my Hector fall.
Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger snare:
Oh prove a husband's and a father's care!
That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy,
Where you wild fig-trees join the wall of Troy:

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460 Thou from this tower defend the important post;
There Agamemnon points his dreadful host,"
That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain,
And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train.
Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given

555

465 Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven:
Let others in the field their arms employ,
But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy.
The chief replied; That post shall be my care,
Not that alone, but all the works of war.

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470 How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown'd,
And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the
ground,

Attaint the lustre of my former name,
Should Hector basely quit the field of fame?

565

475 My early youth was bred to martial pains,
My soul impels me to the embattled plains:
Let me be foremost to defend the throne,
And guard my father's glories, and my own.
Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates:
480 (How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!)
The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend,
And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end.
And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind,
My mother's death, the ruin of my kind,

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485 Not Priam's hoary hairs defiled with gore,
Not all my brothers gasping on the shore;
As thine, Andromache! thy griefs I dread;
I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led!
In Argive looms our battles to design,
490 And woes, of which so large a part was thine!
To bear the victor's hard commands, or bring
The weight of waters from Hyperia's spring.
There, while you groan beneath the load of life,
They cry, Behold the mighty Hector's wife!
495 Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see,
Embitters all thy woes, by naming me.
The thoughts of glory past, and present shame,
A thousand griefs shall waken at the name!
May I lie cold before that dreadful day,
500 Press'd with a load of monumental clay!
Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep,
Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep.
Thus having spoke, the illustrious chief of Troy
Stretch'd his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy.
505 The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast,
Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.
With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled,
And Hector hasted to relieve his child;
The glittering terrors from his brows unbound,
510 And placed the beaming helmet on the ground.
Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in air,
Thus to the gods preferr'd a father's prayer:
O thou! whose glory fills the ethereal throne,
And all ye deathless powers! protect my son!

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