"

Thus, by an arm divine, and mortal spear,
Wounded at once, Patroclus yields to fear,
Retires for fuccour to his focial train, 1985
And flies the fate, which Heaven decreed, in vain.
Stern Hector, as the bleeding chief he views,
Breaks through the ranks, and his retreat purfucs;
The lance arrefts him with a mortal wound;
He falls, earth thunders, and his arais refound.
With him all Greece was funk; that moment all
Her yet-furviving heroes feem'd to fall. [990
So, fcorch'd with heat, along the defert shore,
The roaming lion meets a briftly boar,
Faft by the fpring; they both difpute the flood,
With flaming eyes, and jaws befmear'd with
blood;

995

At length the fovereign favage wins the ftrife,
And the torn boar refigns his thirst and life.
Patroclus thus, fo many chiefs o'erthrown,
So many lives effus'd, expires his own.
As dying now at Hector's feet he lies,
He fleruly views him, and triumphing cries!
Lie there, Patroclus: and with thee, the joy
Thy pride once promis'd, of fubverting Troy;
The fancy'd feenes of Ilion wrapt in flames, [1005
And thy foft pleafures ferv'd with captive dames!
Unthinking man! I fought, thofe towers to free,
And guard that beauteous race from lords like
But thou a prey to vultures thalt be made; [thee;
Thy own Achilles cannot lend thee aid;
Though much at parting that great chief might
fay,
1010
And much enjoin thee, this important day.
"Return not, my brave friend (perhaps he faid)-
"Without the bloody arms of Hector dead."

1015

Supine and wildly gazing on the skies,
With faint, expiring breath, the chief replies:
Vain boafter! ceafe, and know the Powers di-
Jove's and Apollo's is this deed, not'thine; [vine!
To Heaven is ow'd whate'er your own you call,
And Heaven itfelf difarm'd me ere my fall. 1020
Had twenty mortals, cach thy match in might,
Oppos'd me fairly, they had funk in fight;
By Fate and Phebus was I firft o'erthrown,
Euphorbus next, the third mean part thy own ;
But thou, imperious! hear my latest breath; 1025
The Gods infpire it, and it founds thy death.
Infulting man, thou fhalt be foon as I;
(nigh
Black fate hangs o'er thee, and thy hour draws
Ev'n now on life's laft verge I fee thee fland,
fee thee fall, and by Achilles' hand.

1030 He faints; the foul unwilling wings her way (The beauteous body left a load of clay) Flits to the lone, uncomfortable coaft, A naked, wandering, melancholy ghost! Then Hector, paufing, as his eyes he fed 1035 On the pale carcafe, thus addrefs'd the dead:

From whence this boding fpeech, the ftern decree
Of death denounc'd, or why denounc'd to me?
Why not as well Achilles' fate be given
To Hector's lance? Who knows the will of Hea-
ven?
1040

Pensive he faid; then preffing, as he lay,
His breathiefs bofom, tore the Lince away,
And upwards caft the corpfe: the reeking fpear
He fhakes, and charges the bold charioteer.
But fwift Automedon with loofen'd reins
ICAS
Rapt in the chariot o'er the diftant plains,
Far from his rage th' immortal courfers drove,
Th' immortal courfers were the gift of Jove.

BOOK XVII.

THE ARGUMENT.

The feventh Battle, for the Body of Patroclus: the Acts of Menelaus.

Menelaus, upon the death of Patroclus, defends his body from the enemy: Euphorbus, zuho attempts it, is flain. Hector advancing, Menelaus retires; but foon returns with Ajax, and drives bim off. This Glaucus objects 19 Hector as a fight; who thereupon puts on the armour be bad won from Patroclus, and renews the battle. The Greeks give way, till Ajax rallies them; Æneas fuftains the Trojans. Encas and Heilor attempt the chariot of Achilles, which is borne off by Automedon. The borfes of Achilles deplore the lofs of Patroclus: Jupiter covers bis body with a thick darkness: the noble prayer of Ajax on that occafion. Menelaus fends Antilochus to Achilles, will the news of Patroclus' death; then returns to the fight; where, though attacked with the utmoft fury, be and Meriones, affifted by the Ajaxes, bear off the body to the foips. The time is the evening of the eight and twentieth day. The feene lies in the fields before Troy.

N

fend,

O the cold earth divine Patroclus spread,gar The fon of Panthus, skill'd the dart to fo

25

30

Not thus the lion glories in his might,
Nor panther braves his fpotted foe in fight,
Nor thus the boar (thofe terrors of the plain)
Man only vaunts his force, and vaunts in vain.
But far the vainest of the boaftful kind
These fons of Panthus vent their haughty mind.
Yet 'twas but late, beneath my conquering steel
This boafter's brother, Hyperenor, fell;
Against our arm, which rafhly he defy'd,
Vain was his vigour, and as vain his pride.
These eyes beheld him on the duft expire,
No more to cheer his spouse, or glad his fire.
Prefumptuous youth! like his fhall be thy doom,
Go, wait thy brother to the Stygian gloom; [35
Or, while thou may'ft, avoid the threaten'd fate;
Fools ftay to feel it, and are wife too late.
Unmov'd Euphorbus thus: That action known,
Come, for my brother's blood repay thy own.
His weeping father claims thy deftin'd head,
And fpoufe, a widow in her bridal bed:
On these thy conquer'd spoils I fhall bestow,
'To foothe a confort's and a parent's woe;
No longer then defer the glorious ftrife,
Let Heaven decide our fortune, fame, and life.
Swift as the word the miffile lance he flings,
The well-aim'd weapon on the buckler rings,
But blunted by the brafs innoxious falls.
On Jove the father, great Atrides calls,
Nor flies the javelin from his arm in vain,

40

45

It pierc'd his throat, and bent him to the plain; 50
Wide though the neck appears the grisly wound,
Prone finks the warrior, and his arms refound.
The fhining circlets of his golden hair,
Which ev'n the Graces might be proud to wear,
Inftarr'd with gems and gold, beftrow the fhore, 55
With duft difhonour'd, and deform'd with gore.

|

95

And fends his voice in thunder to the fkies:
Fierce as a flood of flame by Vulcan fent,
It flew, and fir'd the nations as it went.
Atrides from the voice the ftorni divin'd,
And thus explor'd his own unconquer'd mind; 100
Then fhall I quit Patroclus on the plain,
Slain in my caufe, and for my honour slain?
Defert the arms, the relicks of my friend?
Or, fingly, Hector and his troops attend!
Sure where fuch partial favour heaven beftow'd,
To brave the hero were to brave the God:
Forgive me, Greece, if once I quit the field;
'Tis not to Hector, but to heaven I yield.

(105

Yet, nor the God, nor heaven, shall give me fear,
Did but the voice of Ajax reach my ear:
Still would we turn, ftill battle on the plains,
And give Achilles all that yet remains
Of his and our Patroclus-This, no more,
The time allow'd: Troy thicken'd on the fhore,
A fable fcene! The terrors Hector led.
Slow he recedes, and fighing quits the dead.

120

So from the fold th' unwilling lion parts,
Forc'd by loud clamours, and a storm of darts;
He flies indeed, but threatens as he flies,
With heart indignant and retorted eyes.
Now enter'd in the Spartan ranks, he turn'd
His manly breast, and with new fury burn'd;
O'er all the black battalions fent his view,
And through the cloud the god-like Ajax knew;
60 Where labouring on the left the warrior stood, 125
All grim in arms, and cover'd o'er with blood;
There breathing courage, where the God of Day
Had funk each heart with terror and difmay.

As the young olive, in fome fylvan scene,
Crown'd by fresh fountains with eternal green,
Lifts the gay head, in fnowy flowerets fair,
And plays and dances to the gentle air;
When lo! a whirlwind from high heaven invades
The tender plant, and withers all its shades;
It lies uprooted from its genial bed,

lovely ruin, now defac'd and dead.
Thus young, thus beautiful, Euphorbus lay,
While the fierce Spartan tore his arms away.
Proud of his deed, and glorious in the prize,
Affrighted Troy the towering victor flies:
Flies, as before fome mountain lion's ire
The village curs and trembling fwains retire,
When o'er the fiaughter'd bull they hear

roar,

65

70

him

To him the king: Oh Ajax, oh my friend; Hafte, and Patroclus' lov'd remains defend: 130 The body to Achilles to restore,

[135

Demands our care; alas, we can no more!
For naked now, defpoil'd of arms, he lies;
And Hector glories in the dazzling prize.
He faid, and touch'd his heart. The raging pair
Pierce the thick battle, and provoke the war.
Already had flern Hector feiz'd his head,
And doom'd to Trojan dogs th' unhappy dead;
But foon (as Ajax rear'd his tower-like shield)
Sprung to his car, and measur'd back the field. 140
His train to Troy the radiant armour bear,
To ftand a trophy of his fame in war.

155

Faft by his fide the generous Spartan glows
With great revenge, and feeds his inward woes.
But Glaucus, leader of the Lycian aids,
On Hector frowning, thus his flight upbraids:
Where now in Hector fhall we Hector find?
A manly form, without a manly mind!
Is this, O chief! a heroe's boafted fame?
How vain, without the merit, is the name!
Since battle is renounc'd, thy thoughts employ
What other methods may preferve thy Troy; 160
'Tis time to try if lion's ftate can stand
By thee alone, nor afk a foreign hand;
Mean, empty boaft! but fhall the Lycians take
Their lives for you? thofe Lycians you forfake?
What from thy thanklefs arms can we expect? 165
Thy friend Sarpedon proves thy bafe neglect:
Say, fhall our flaughter'd bodies guard your walls,
While unreveng'd the great Sarpedon falls?
Ev'n where he dy'd for Troy, you left him there,
A feaft for dogs, and all the fowls of air.
On my command if any Lycian wait,
Hence let him march, and give up Troy to fate.
Did fuch a spirit as the Gods impart
Impel one Trojan hand, or Trojan heart
(Such, as should burn in every foul, that draws 175
The fword for glory, and his country's cause;)
Ev'n yet our mutual arms we might employ,
And drag yon carcafe to the walls of Troy.
Oh were Patroclus ours, we might obtain
Sarpedon's arms and honour'd corfe again!
Greece with Achilles' friend fhould be repaid,
And thus due honours purchas'd to his fhade.
But words are vain-Let Ajax once appear,
And Hector trembles and recedes with fear;
Thou dar'st not meet the terrors of his eye;
And lo already thou prepar'ft to fly.

The Trojan chief with fix'd refentiment ey'd
The Lycian leader, and fedate replied:

170

180

185

Say, is it juft (my friend) that Hector's ear
From fuch a warrior fuch a fpeech fhould hear? 190
I deem'd thee once the wifett of thy kind,
But ill this infult fuits a prudent mind.
1 fhun great Ajax? I defert my train?
'Tis mine to prove the rafh affertion vain;
I joy to mingle where the battle bleeds,
And hear the thunder of the founding steeds.
But Jove's high will is ever uncontroul'd,
The ftrong he withers, and confounds the bold;
Now crowns with fame the mighty man, and

now

195

Strikes the fresh garland from the victor's brow! 200
Come, through yon fquadron let us hew the way,
And thou be witnefs, if I fear to-day:
If yet a Greek the fight of Hector dread,
Or yet their hero can defend the dead,

Him, proud in triumph, glittering from afar, 225
The God, whofe thunder rends the troubled air,
Beheld with pity, as apart he fate,

And confcious look'd through all the fcene of fate.
He fhook the facred honours of his head;
Olympus trembled, and the Godhead faid:

230

240

Ah wretched man! unmindful of thy end!
A moment's glory! and what fates attend!
In heavenly panoply divinely bright
Thou stand'st, and armies tremble at thy fight,
As at Achilles' felt I beneath thy dart!
235
Lies flain the great Achilles' dearer part:
Thou from the mighty dead thote arms haft torn,
Which once the greateft of mankind had worn.
Yet live! I give thee one illuftrious day,
A blaze of glory ere thou fad'ft away:
For ah! no mere Andromache shall come,
With joyful tears to welcome Hedor home;
No more officious, with endearing charms,
From thy tir'd limbs unbrace Pelides' arms!
Then with his fable brow he gave the rod, 245
That feals his word; the fanction of the God.
The stubborn arms (by Jove's command difpos'd)
Conform'd fpontaneous, and around him clos'd;
Fill'd with the God, enlarg'd his members grew,
Through all his veins a fudden vigour flew,
The blood in brifker tides began to roll,
And Mars himfelf came rufhing on his foul.
Exhorting loud, through all the field he strode,
And look'd, and mov'd, Achilles, or a God.
Now Meithles, Glaucus, Medon, he infpires: 255
Now Phorcys, Chromius and Hippothous fires;
The great Thefilocus like fury found,
Alteropæus kindled at the found,

And Ennomus, in augury renown'd.

250

265

Hear, all ye hofts, and hear, unnumber'd bands 260
Of neighbouring nations, or of diftant lands!
'Twas not for flate we fummon'd you so far,
To boaft our numbers, and the pomp of war;
Ye came to fight; a violent foe to chafe,
To fave our prefent, and our future race.
For this, our wealth, our products, you enjoy,
And glean the relicks of exhaufted Troy.
Now then to conquer or to die prepare,
To die, or conquer, are the terms of war.
Whatever hand hail win Patroclus flain,
Whoe'er fhall drag him to the Trojan trait,

Then, turning to the martial hosts, he cries, 205 With Hector's feif fhall equal honours claim;

Ye Trojans, Dardans, Lycians, and allies!
Be men (my friends) in action as in name,
And yet be mindful of your ancient fame.
Hector in proud Achilles' arms fhall shine,
Torn from his friend, by right of conqueft mine. 210

He ftrode along the field, as thus he said
(The fable plumage nodded o'er his head :)
Swift through the fpacious plain he fent a look;
One inftant faw, one inftant overtook
The diftant band, that on the fandy shore 215
The radiant fpoils to facred lion borç.
VOL. VI.

270

With Hedor part the spoil, and share the fame.
Fir'd by his words, the troops difmifs their

fears,

They join, they thicken they protend their fpears; 275
Full on the Greeks they drive in firm array,
And each from Ajax hopes the glorious prey:
Vain hope! what number fall the field o'er-
Spread,

What victims perifh round the mighty dead!
Great Ajax mark'd the growing ftorm from far, 286
And thus bespoke his brother of te war.

Thus he What methods yet, oh chief! remain, To fave your Troy, though Heaven its fall ordain? There have been heroes, who, by virtuous care, 380 315 By valour, numbers, and by art of war,