The panting courfers fwiftly turn the goal,
And with them turns the rais'd fpectators' foul:
Thus three times round the Trojan wall they fly;
The gazing Gods lean forward from the sky:
To whom, while eager on the chace they look,
The Sire of mortals and immortals spoke : 220
Unworthy fight! the man belov'd of Heaven,
Behold, inglorious round yon city driven!
My heart partakes the generous He&or's pain;
Feter, whofe zeal whole hecatombs has flain, [225
Whole grateful fumes the Gods receiv'd with joy,
From Ida's fummits, and the towers of Troy:
Now fee him flying! to his fears refign'd,
And Fate, and fierce Achilles, clofc behind.
Confult, ye Powers! 'tis worthy your debate)
Whether to fnatch him from impending fate, 230
Or let him bear, by ftern Pelides flain
(Cood as he is the lot impos'd on man.

Then Pallas thus: Shall he whofe vengeance forms

240

245

The forky bolt, and blackens Heaven with forms,
Shall he prolong one Trojan's forfeit breath! 235
A man, a mortal, pre-ordain'd to death!
And will no murmurs fill the courts above?
No Gods indignant blame their partial Jove?
Go then (return d the Sire) without delay,
Exert thy will: I give the Fates their way.
Swift, at the mandate pleas'd, Tritonia flies,
And floops impetuous from the cleaving flies.
As through the foreft, o'er the vale and lawn,
The well-breath'd beagle drives the flying fawn;
In vain he tries the covert of the brakes,
Or deep beneath the trembling thicket fhakes;
Sure of the vapour in the tainted dews,
The certain hound his various maze purfues.
Thus, frep by flep, where'er the Trojan wheel'd,
There swift Achilles compafs'd round the field.
Oft as to reach the Dardan gates he bends,
And hopes th' affiftance of his pitying friends,
(Whofe thowering arrows, as he cours'd below,
From the high turrets might opprefs the foe)
Soft Achilles turns him to the' plain:
He eyes the city, but he eyes in vain.
As men in uniber feem with speedy pace
One to pure, and one to lead the chace,
Their linking in.hs the fancy'd course forfake,
Nor this can fly, nor that can overtake :
No lets the labouring heroes pant and strain;
While that but flies, and this purfues, in vain.
What Gad, O Mufe! affilled Hector's force,
With Fate itfelf fo long to hold the course?
Phabus it was; who, in his latest hour,
Endued his knees with ftrength, his nerves with

power:

251

255

260

265

And great Achilles, left fome Greeks advance
Should fnatch the glory from his lifted lance,
Sign'd to the troops to yield his foe the way,
And leave untouch'd the honours of the day. 270
Jove lifts the golden balances, that fhow
The fates of mortal men, and things below:
Here each contending hero's lot he tries,
And weighs, with equal hand, their deftinies.
Low finks the feale, furcharg'd with Hector's fate;
Heavy with death it finks, and hell receives the
weight.

Then Phoebus left him. Fierce Minerva flies To ftern Pelides, and triumphing cries;

299

Her voice divine the chief with joyful mind Obey'd; and refled, on his lance, reclin'd. While like Deiphobus the martial Dame Her face, her geflure, and her arms, the fame) In fhow and aid, by hapless Hector's fide Approach'd, and greets him thus with voice bely'd ; Too long, O Hector, have I borne the fight 295 Of this diftrefs, and forrow'd in thy flight; It fits us now a noble ftand to make, And here, as brothers, equal fates partake.

Then he: O prince! ally'd in blood and fame, Dearer than all that own a brother's name; 300 Of all that Hecuba to Priam bore,

Long try'd, long lov'd; much lov'd, but honour'd more !

[305

Since you, of all your numerous race, alone
Defend my life, regardless of your own.
Again the Goddefs: Much my father's prayer,
And much my mother's, preft me to forbear:
My friends embrac'd my knees, adjur'd my stay,
But ftronger love impell'd, and I obey.
Come then, the glorious conflict let us try,
Let the fteel fparkle, and the javelin fly:
Or let us stretch Achilles on the field,
Or to his arm our bloody trophies yield.
Fraudful the faid; then fwiftly march'd before
The Dardan hero fhuns his foe no more.
Sternly they met. The filence Hector broke; 315
His dreadful plumage nodded as he fpoke:

Enough, O fon of Peleus! Troy has view'd
Her walls thrice circled, and her chief purfued.
But now fome God within me bids me try
Thine, or my fate: 1 kill thee, or I die,
Yet on the verge of battle let us stay,
And for a moment's fpace fufpend the day;

319

320

And faithful, guardians of the treafur'd vow!)
To them I fwear; if, victor in the ftrife,
Jove by thefe hands fhall fhed thy noble life,
No vile difhonour fhall thy corpfe purfue;
Stript of its arms alone (the conqueror's due) 339
The reft to Greece uninjur'd I'll rettore:
Now plight thy mutuai oath, I ask no more,

335

Talk not of oaths (the dreadful chief replies, While anger fafh'd from his difdainful eyes) Detefted as thou art, and ought to be, Nor oath nor pact Achilles plights with thee: Such pacts as lambs and rapid wolves combine, Such leagues as men and furious lions join, To fuch I call the Gods! one conftant ftate Of lasting rancour and eternal hate ; No thought but rage and never-ceafing ftrife, Till death extinguifh rage, and thought, and life. Roufe then thy forces this important hour, Collect thy foul, and call forth all thy power.

340

355

To thee, prefumptuous as thou art, unknown
Or what must prove my fortune, or thy own.
Boafting is but an art, our fears to blind,
And with falfe terror fink another's mind.
But know, whatever fate I am to try,
By no difhoneft wound fhall Hector die;
1 fhall not fall a fugitive at least;
My foul fhall bravely iffue from my breast.
But first try thou my arm; and may this dart
End all my country's woes, deep buried in thy
heart!
370

The weapon flew, its courfe unerring held;
Unerring, but the heavenly fhield repell'd
The mortal dart; refulting with a bound
From off the ringing orb, it ftruck the ground.
Hector beheld his javelin fall in vain,

Gave entrance through that penetrable part
Furious he drove the well-directed dart:
Nor pierc'd the wind-pipe yet, nor took the power
Of freech, unhappy! from thy dying hour.
Prone on the field the bleeding warrior lies, 415
While thus, triumphing, ftern Achilles cries:
At last is Hector ftretch'd upon the plain,
Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus flain:
Then, prince! you fhould have fear'd, what now
you feel;

420

375

Nor other lance nor other hope remain;
He calls Deiphobus, demands a fpear,
In vain, for no Deiphobus was there.
All comfortless he ftands: then, with a figh,
Tis fo-Heaven wills it, and my hour is nigh! 380
I deem'd Deiphobus had heard my call,
But he fecure lies guarded in the wall.
A God deceiv'd me; Pallas, 'twas thy deed,
Death, and black Fate, approach! 'tis I must bleed,
No refuge now, no fuccour from above, 385
Great Jove deferts me, and the fon of Jove,
Propitious once, and kind! then welcome Fate!
'Tis true I perish, yet I perifh great:
Yet in a mighty deed 1 fhall expire,
Let future ages hear it, and admire!

390

395

Fierce, at the word, his weighty fword he drew, And, all collected, on Achilles flew So Jove's bold bird, high balanc'd in the air, Stoops from the clouds to trufs the quivering hare. Nor lefs Achilles his fierce foul prepares; Before his breaft the flaming fhield he bears, Refulgent orb above his fourfold cone The gilded horfe-hair sparkled in the fun, Nodding at every step: (Vulcanian frame!) And, as he mov'd, his figure seem'd on flame. 400 As radiant Hefper fhines with keener light, Far-beaming o'er the filver host of night, When all the ftarry train emblaze the sphere: So fhone the point of great Achilles' fpear. In his right hand he waves the weapon round, 405 Eyes the whole man, and meditates the wound: But the rich mail Patroclus lately wore, Securely cas'd the warrior's body o'er; One place at length he fpies, to let in Fate, Where 'twixt the neck and throat the jointed plate

410

440

No, wretch accurft! relentless he replies, 435 (Flames, as he fpoke, fhot flashing from his eyes) Not thofe who gave me breath fhould bid me fpare Nor all the facred prevalence of prayer. Could I myself the bloody banquet join! No-to the dogs that carcafe I refign. Should Troy, to bribe me, bring forth all her store, And, giving thousands, offer thousands more; Should Dardan Priam, and his weeping dame, Drain their whole realm to buy one funeral flame; Their Hector on the pile they fhould not fec, 445 Nor rob the vultures of one limb of thee.

Then thus the chief his dying accents drew :
Thy rage, implacable! too well I knew :

¦ The Furies that relentless breast have steel`d,
And curft thee with a heart that cannot yield. 450
Yet think, a day will come, when Fate's decree
And angry Gods fhall wreak this wrong on thee;
Phoebus and Paris fhall avenge my fate,
And ftretch thee here, before this Scæan gate.
He ceas'd. The Fates fuppreft his labouring
breath,

455

460

And his eyes ftiffen'd at the hand of death;
To the dark realm the fpirit wings its way
(The manly body left a load of clay)
And plaintive glides along the dreary coaft,
A naked, wandering, melancholy ghoft!
Achilles, mufing, as he roll'd his eyes
O'er the dead hero, thus (unheard) replies:
Die thou the firft! When Jove and Heaven ordain,
I follow thee-He said, and stripp'd the slain.
Then, forcing backward from the gaping wound
The recking javelin, caft it on the ground,
The thronging Greeks behold with wondering eyes
His manly beauty and fuperior fize:
While fome, ignobler, the great dead deface [470
With wounds ungenerous, or with taunts difgrace
"How chang'd that Hector! who like Jove of

late

466

"Sent light'ning on our fleets, and scatter'd fate." High o'er the flain the great Achilles ftands, Begirt with heroes, and furrounding bands;

480

And thus aloud, while all the hoft attends: 475
Princes and leaders! countrymen and friends!
Since now at length the powerful will of Heaven
The dire deftroyer to our arm has given,
Is not Troy fall'n already? Hafte, ye powers!
See, if already their deferted towers
Are left unmann'd; or if they yet retain
The fouls of heroes, their great Hector flain?
But what is Troy, or glory what, to me?
Or why reflects my mind on aught but thee,
Divine Patroclus! Death has feal'd his eyes;
Unwept, unhonour'd, uninterr'd, he lies!
Can his dear image from my foul depart,
Long as the vital fpirit moves my heart?
If, in the melancholy fhades below,

45

The flames of friends and lovers ceafe to glow, 490
Yet mine fhall facred laft; mine undecay'd
Burn on through death, and arimate my fhade.

545

How many valiant fons, in early bloom,
Has that curft hand fent headlong to the tomb!
Thee, Hector! laft: thy lofs (divinely brave)
Sinks my fad foul with forrow to the grave.
Oh, had thy gentle fpirit pafs'd in peace,
The fon expiring in the fire's embrace,
While both thy parents wept thy fatal hour,
And, bending o'er thee, mix'd the tender fhower!
Some comfort that had been, fome fad relief, 550
To melt in full fatiety of grief!

Thus wail'd the father, groveling on the ground
And all the eyes of Ilion ftream'd around.
Amidfl her matrons Hecuba appears

555

Her chief, her hero, and almost her God! | O fatal change! become in one fad day A fenfelefs corpfe! inanimated clay!

But not as yet the fatal news had spread To fair Andromache, of Hector dead; As yet no messenger had told his fate, Nor ev'n his stay without the Scaan gate, Far in the clofe receffes of the dome, Penfive fhe ply'd the melancholy loom;

565

510

The corpfe of Hector, and your Peans fing.
Be this the fong, flow moving tow'rd the fhore,495
"Hector is dead, and Ilion is no mere.”
Then his fell foul a thought of vengeance bred
(Unworthy of himself and of the dead).
The nervous ancles bor'd, his feet he bound [500
With thongs inferted through the double wound;
Thefe fix'd up high behind the rolling wain,
His graceful head was trail'd along the plain.
Proud on his car th' infulting victor stood,
And borc aloft his armis, diftilling blood.
He fmites the fleeds; the rapid chariot flies;
The fudden clouds of circling duft arife,
Now loft is all that formidable air;
The face divine, and long-defcending hair,
Purple the ground, and ftreak the fable fand;
Deform'd, difhonour'd, in his native land,
Giv'n to the rage of an infulting throng!
And in his parents' fight now dragg'd along!
The mother first beheld with fad furvey:
She rent her treffes, venerably grey,
And caft, far off, the regal veils away.
With piercing fhrieks his bitter fate the moans,
While the fad father answers groans with groans;
Tears after tears his mournful cheeks o'erflow,
And the whole city wears one face of woe:
No lefs than if the rage of hoftile fires,
From her foundations curling to her spires,
O'er the proud citadel at length fhould rife,
And the last blaze fend Ilion to the skies.
The wretched monarch of the falling ftate,
Distracted, preffes to the Dardan gate.
Scarce the whole people ftop his defperate course,
While ftrong affliction gives the feeble force;
Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro,
In all the raging impotence of wee.
At length he roll'd in duft, and thus begun:
Imploring all, and naming one by one:
Ah! let me, let me go where forrow calls:
I, only I, will iffue from your walls

515

520

525

530

(Guide or companion, friends! I ask you none) And bow before the murderer of my fon.

My grief perhaps his pity may engage;

535

Perhaps at least he may refpect my age.
He has a father too, a man like me;
One, not exempt from age and misery
(Vigorous no more, as when his young embrace
Begot this peft of me and all my race);

[540

In vain alas! her lord returns no more!
Unbath'd he lies, and bleeds along the fhore !575
Now from the walls the clamours reach her ear,
And all her members shake with fudden fear;
Forth from her ivory hand the shuttle falls,
As thus, aftonish', to her maids fhe calls: [58
Ah, follow me! (fhe cry'd) what plaintive noise
Invades my ear? 'Tis fure my mother's voice.
My faltering knees their trembling frame defert,
A pulfe unufual flutters at my heart;
Some ftrange difafter, fome reverse of fate,
(Ye Gods avert it!) threats the Trojan ftate. 585
Far be the omen which my thoughts fuggeft!
But much I fear my Hector's dauntless breaft
Confronts Achilles; chac'd along the plain,
Shut from our walls! I fear, I fear him flain!
Safe in the crowd he ever fcorn'd to wait
And fought for glory in the jaws of fate:
Perhaps that noble heat has coft his breath,
Now quench'd for ever in the arms of death.
She fpoke; and furious, with distracted pace,
Fears in her heart, and anguish in her face,
595
Flies through the doom (the maids her steps
purfue)

590

And mounts the walls, and fends around her view.
Too foon her eyes the killing object found,
The godlike Hector dragg'd along the ground.
A fudden darkness fhades her fwimming eyes: 600
She faints, fhe falls; her breath, her colour, flies.
Her hair's fair ornaments, the braids that bound,
The net that held him, and the wreath that
The veil and diadem, flew far away
(The gift of Venus on her bridal day)
Around a train of weeping fifters ftands,
To raife her, finking, with alliftant hands

[crown'd,

605