With great Eneas; such the form he bore,
And such in fight the radiant arms he wore.
Around the spectre bloody wars are wag'd,
And Greece and Troy with clashing shields engag'd.
Meantime on Ilion's tower Apollo stood.
And, calling Mars, thus urg'd the raging God.
"Stern power of arms, by whom the mighty fall;
Who bath'st in blood, and shak'st th' embattled
Rise in thy wrath! to Hell's abhorr'd abodes [wall,
Dispatch yon Greek, and vindicate the gods.
First rosy Venus felt his brutal rage;

[sire,

Me next he charg'd, and dares all Heaven engage:
The wretch would brave high Heaven's immortal
His triple thunder, and his bolts of fire."
The god of battle issues on the plain,
Stirs all the ranks, and fires the Trojan train;
In form like Acamas, the Thracian guide,
Enrag'd, to Troy's retiring chiefs he cry'd:
"How long, ye sons of Priam! will ye fly,
And unreveng'd see Priam's people die ?
Still unresisted shall the foe destroy,
And stretch the slaughter to the gates of Troy?
Lo brave Eneas sinks beneath his wound,
Not god-like Hector more in arms renown'd:
Haste all, and take the generous warrior's part,"
He said; new courage swell'd each hero's heart.
Sarpedon first his ardent soul express'd.
And, turn'd to Hector, these bold words express'd:
Say, chief, is all thy ancient valour lost?
Where are thy threats, and where thy glorious
boast,

That propt alone by Priam's race should stand
Troy's sacred walls, nor need a foreign hand?
Now, now thy country calls her wanted friends,
And the proud vaunt in just derision ends,
Remote they stand, while alien troops engage,
Like trembling hounds before the lion's rage.
Far distant hence I held my wide command,
Where foaming Xanthus laves the Lycian land,
With ample wealth (the wish of mortals) blest,
A beauteous wife, and infant at her breast;
With those I left whatever dear could be;
Greece, if she conquers, nothing wins from me :
Yet first in fight my Lycian bands I cheer,
And long to meet this mighty man ye fear;
While Hector idle stands, nor bids the brave
Their wives, their infants, and their altars save.
Haste, warrior, haste! preserve thy threaten'd
Or one vast burst of all-involving fate
Full o'er your towers shall fall, and sweep away
Sons, sires, and wives, an undistinguish'd prey.
Rouse all thy Trojans, urge thy aids to fight;
These claim thy thoughts by day, thy watch by
night:

[state;

With force incessant the brave Greeks oppose;
Such cares thy friends deserve, and such thy foes."
Stung to the heart the generous Hector hears,
But just reproof with decent silence bears,
From his proud car the prince impetuous springs,
On earth he leaps; his brazen armour rings.
Two shining spears are brandish'd in his hands;
Thus arm'd, he animates his drooping bands,
Revives their ardour, turns their steps from flight,
And wakes anew the dying flames of fight.
They turn, the stand, the Greeks their fury dare,
Condense their powers, and wait the growing war.
As when, on Ceres' sacred floor, the swain
Spreads the wide fan to clear the golden grain,
And the light chaff, before the breezes borne,
Ascends in clouds from off the heapy corn;

The gray dust, rising with collected winds,
Drives o'er the barn, and whitens all the hinds:
So white with dust the Grecian host appears,
From trampling steeds, and thundering charioteers;
The dusky clouds from labour'd earth arise,
And roll in smoking volumes to the skies.
Mars hovers o'er them with his sable shield,
And adds new honours to the darken'd field,
Pleas'd with his charge, and ardent to fulfil,
In Troy's defence, Apollo's heavenly will:
Soon as from fight the blue-ey'd maid retires,
Each Trojan bosom with new warmth he fires.
And now the god, from forth his sacred fane,
Produc'd Eneas to the shouting train;
Alive, unharm'd, with all his peers around,
Erect he stood, and vigorous from his wound:
Inquiries none they made; the dreadful day
No pause of words admits, no dull delay;
Fierce discord storms, Apollo loud exclaims,
Fame calls, Mars thunders, and the field's in
Stern Diomed with either Ajax stood, [flames.
And great Ulysses, bath'd in hostile blood.
Embodied close, the labouring Grecian train
The fiercest shock of charging hosts sustain.
Unmov'd and silent, the whole war they wait,
Serenely dreadful, and as fix'd as fate.
So when th' embattled clouds in dark array,
Along the skies their gloomy lines display;
When now the north his boisterous rage has spent,
And peaceful sleeps the liquid element:
The low-hung vapours motionless and still
Rest on the summits of the shaded hill;
Till the mass scatters as the winds arise,
Dispers'd and broken through the ruffled skies.

Nor was the general wanting to his train,
From troop to troop he toils through all the plain.
"Ye Greeks, be men! the charge of battle bear;
Your brave associates and yourselves revere !
Let glorious acts more glorious acts inspire,
And catch from breast to breast the noble fire!
On valour's side the odds of combat lie,
The brave live glorious, or lamented die;
The wretch who trembles in the field of fame,
Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame."
These words he seconds with his flying lance,
To meet whose point was strong Deicoon's chance,
Eneas' friend, and in his native place
Honour'd and lov'd like Priam's royal race:
Long had he fought the foremost in the field,
But now the monarch's lance transpiere'd his shield:
His shield too weak the furious dart to stay,
Through his broad belt the weapon forc'd its way:
The grizzly wound dismiss'd his soul to Hell,
His arms around him rattled as he fell.

The fierce Æneas, brandishing his blade, In dust Orsilochus and Chrethon laid, Whose sire Diocleus, wealthy, brave, and great, In well-built Phere held his lofty seat: Sprung from Alpheus, plenteous stream! that yields Increase of harvests to the Pyliau fields. He got Orsilochus, Diöcleus he, And these descended in the third degree, Too early expert in the martial toil, In sable ships they left their native soil, T' avenge Atrides: now untimely slain, They fell with glory on the Phrygian plain. So two young mountain lions, nurs'd with blood, In deep recesses of the gloomy wood, Rush fearless to the plains, and uncontrol'd Depopulate the stalls, and waste the fold;

With great Eneas; such the form he bore,
And such in fight the radiant arms he wore.
Around the spectre bloody wars are wag'd,
And Greece and Troy with clashing shields engag'd.
Meantime on Ilion's tower Apollo stood.
And, calling Mars, thus urg'd the raging God.
"Stern power of arms, by whom the mighty fall;
Who bath'st in blood, and shak'st th' embattled
Rise in thy wrath! to Hell's abhorr'd abodes [wall,
Dispatch yon Greek, and vindicate the gods.
First rosy Venus felt his brutal rage;

Me next he charg'd, and dares all Heaven engage:
The wretch would brave high Heaven's immortal
His triple thunder, and his bolts of fire."

The god of battle issues on the plain,
Stirs all the ranks, and fires the Trojan train;
In form like Acamas, the Thracian guide,
Enrag'd, to Troy's retiring chiefs he cry'd:

[sire,

"How long, ye sons of Priam! will ye fly,
And unreveng'd see Priam's people die ?
Still unresisted shall the foe destroy,
And stretch the slaughter to the gates of Troy?
Lo brave Eneas sinks beneath his wound,
Not god-like Hector more in arms renown'd:
Haste all, and take the generous warrior's part,"
He said; new courage swell'd each hero's heart.
Sarpedon first his ardent soul express'd.
And, turn'd to Hector, these bold words express'd:
Say, chief, is all thy ancient valour lost?
Where are thy threats, and where thy glorious
boast,

That propt alone by Priam's race should stand
Troy's sacred walls, nor need a foreign hand?
Now, now thy country calls her wanted friends,
And the proud vaunt in just derision ends,
Remote they stand, while alien troops engage,
Like trembling hounds before the lion's rage.
Far distant hence I held my wide command,
Where foaming Xanthus laves the Lycian land,
With ample wealth (the wish of mortals) blest,
A beauteous wife, and infant at her breast;
With those I left whatever dear could be;
Greece, if she conquers, nothing wins from me:
Yet first in fight my Lycian bands I cheer,
And long to meet this mighty man ye fear;
While Hector idle stands, nor bids the brave
Their wives, their infants, and their altars save.
Haste, warrior, haste! preserve thy threaten'd
Or one vast burst of all-involving fate

[state;

Full o'er your towers shall fail, and sweep away
Sons, sires, and wives, an undistinguish'd prey.
Rouse all thy Trojans, urge thy aids to fight;
These claim thy thoughts by day, thy watch by
night:

With force incessant the brave Greeks oppose;
Such cares thy friends deserve, and such thy foes."
Stung to the heart the generous Hector hears,
But just reproof with decent silence bears,
From his proud car the prince impetuous springs,
On earth he leaps; his brazen armour rings.
Two shiuing spears are brandish'd in his hands;
Thus arm'd, he animates his drooping bands,
Revives their ardour, turns their steps from flight,
And wakes anew the dying flames of fight.
They turn, the stand, the Greeks their fury dare,
Condense their powers, and wait the growing war.
As when, on Ceres' sacred floor, the swain
Spreads the wide fan to clear the golden grain,
And the light chaff, before the breezes borne,
Ascends in clouds from off the heapy corn;

The gray dust, rising with collected winds,
Drives o'er the barn, and whitens all the hinds:
So white with dust the Grecian host appears,
From trampling steeds, and thundering charioteers;
The dusky clouds from labour'd earth arise,
And roll in smoking volumes to the skies.
Mars hovers o'er them with his sable shield,
And adds new honours to the darken'd field,
Pleas'd with his charge, and ardent to fulfil,
In Troy's defence, Apollo's heavenly will:
Soon as from fight the blue-ey'd maid retires,
Each Trojan bosom with new warmth he fires.
And now the god, from forth his sacred fane,
Produc'd Eneas to the shouting train;
Alive, unharm'd, with all his peers around,
Erect he stood, and vigorous from his wound:
Inquiries none they made; the dreadful day
No pause of words admits, no dull delay;
Fierce discord storms, Apollo loud exclaims,
Fame calls, Mars thunders, and the field's in
Stern Diomed with either Ajax stood, [flames.
And great Ulysses, bath'd in hostile blood.
Embodied close, the labouring Grecian train
The fiercest shock of charging hosts sustain.
Unmov'd and silent, the whole war they wait,
Serenely dreadful, and as fix'd as fate.
So when th' embattled clouds in dark array,
Along the skies their gloomy lines display;
When now the north his boisterous rage has spent,
And peaceful sleeps the liquid element :
The low-hung vapours motionless and still
Rest on the summits of the shaded hill;
Till the mass scatters as the winds arise,
Dispers'd and broken through the ruffled skies.
Nor was the general wanting to his train,
From troop to troop he toils through all the plain.
"Ye Greeks, be men! the charge of battle bear;
Your brave associates and yourselves revere !
Let glorious acts more glorious acts inspire,
And catch from breast to breast the noble fire!
On valour's side the odds of combat lie,
The brave live glorious, or lamented die;
The wretch who trembles in the field of fame,
Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame."
These words he seconds with his flying lance,
To meet whose point was strong Deicoon's chance,
Eneas' friend, and in his native place
Honour'd and lov'd like Priam's royal race:
Long had he fought the foremost in the field,
But now the monarch's lande transpiere'd his shield:
His shield too weak the furious dart to stay,
Through his broad belt the weapon fore'd its way:
The grizzly wound dismiss'd his soul to Hell,
His arms around him rattled as he fell.

The fierce Æneas, brandishing his blade,
In dust Orsilochus and Chrethon laid,
Whose sire Diocleus, wealthy, brave, and great,
In well-built Phere held his lofty seat:
Sprung from Alpheus, plenteous stream! that yields
Increase of harvests to the Pylian fields.
He got Orsilochus, Diöcleus he,
And these descended in the third degree,
Too early expert in the martial toil,
In sable ships they left their native soil,
T'avenge Atrides: now untimely slain,
They fell with glory on the Phrygian plain.
So two young mountain lions, nurs'd with blood,
In deep recesses of the gloomy wood,
Rush fearless to the plains, and uncontrol'd
Depopulate the stalls, and waste the fold;

Till pierc'd at distance from their native den,
O'erpower'd they fall beneath the force of men.
Prostrate on earth their beauteous bodies lay,
Like mountain firs as tall and straight as they,
Great Menelaus views with pitying eyes,
Lifts his bright lance, and at the victor flies;
Mars urg'd him on; yet, ruthless in his hate,
The gods but urg'd him to provoke his fate.
He thus advancing, Nestor's valiant son
Shakes for his danger, and neglects his own;
Struck with the thought, should Helen's lord be
slain,

And all his country's glorious labours vain.
Already met the threatening heroes stand;
The spears already tremble in their hand :
In rush'd Antilochus, his aid to bring,
And fall or conquer by the Spartan king.
These seen, the Dardan backward turn'd his course,
Brave as he was, and shunn'd unequal force,
The breathless bodies to the Greeks they drew,
Then mix'd in combat, and their toils renew.
First Pylæmenes, great in battle bled,
Who sheath'd in brass the Paphlagonians led.
Atrides mark'd him where sublime he stood;
Fix'd in his throat, the javelin drank his blood.
The faithful Mydon, as he turn'd from fight
His flying courser, sunk to endless night:
A broken rock by Nestor's son was thrown;
His bended arm receiv'd the falling stone.
From his numb'd hands the ivory-studded reins,
Dropt in the dust, are trail'd along the plains:
Meanwhile his temples feel a deadly wound:
He groans in death, and ponderous sinks to ground;
Deep drove his helmet in the sands, and there
The head stood fix'd, the quivering legs in air,
Till trampled flat beneath the courser's feet:
The youthful victor mounts his empty seat,
And bears the prize in triumph to the fleet.

Great Hector saw, and raging at the view,
Pours on the Greeks; the Trojan troops pursue:
He fires his host with animating cries,
And brings along the furies of the skies.
Mars, stern destroyer! and Bellona dread,
Flame in the front, and thunder at their head:
This swells the tumult and the rage of fight;
That shakes a spear that casts a dreadful light,
Where Hector march'd, the god of battles shin'd,
Now storm'd before him, and now rag'd behind.
Tydides paus'd amidst his full career;
Then first the hero's manly breast knew fear.
As when some simple swain his cot forsakes,
And wide through fens an unknown journey takes;
If chance a swelling brook his passage stay,
And foam impervious cross the wanderer's way,
Confus'd he stops, a length of country past,
Eyes the rough waves, and, tir'd, returns at last.
Amaz'd no less the great Tydides stands :
He stay'd, and, turning, thus address'd his bands:
"No wonder, Greeks! that all to Hector yield,
Secure of favouring gods, he takes the field:
His strokes they second, and avert our spears:
Behold where Mars in mortal arms appears!
Retire then, warriors, but sedate and slow!
Retire, but with your faces to the foe.
Trust not too much your unavailing might;
'Tis not with Troy, but with the gods ye fight."
Now near the Greeks the black battalions drew;
And first two leaders valiant Hector slew:
His force Anchialus and Mnesthes found,
In every art of glorious war renown'd;

In the same car the chiefs to combat ride,
And fought united, and united died.
Struck at the sight, the mighty Ajax glows
With thirst of vengeance, and assaults the foes.
His massy spear with matchless fury sent,
Through Amphius' belt and heavy belly went:
Amphius Apasus' happy soil possess'd,

With herds abounding, and with treasure bless'd;
But fate resistless froin his country led
The chief, to perish at his people's head.
Shook with his fall his brazen armour rung,
And fierce, to seize it, conquering Ajax sprung;
Around his head an iron tempest rain'd;
A wood of spears his ample shield sustain'd;
Beneath one foot the yet-warm corpse he prest,
And drew his javelin from the bleeding breast:
He could no more; the showering darts deny'd
To spoil his glittering arms and plumy pride.
Now foes on foes came pouring on the field,*
With bristling lances, and compacted shields;
Till, in the steely circle straiten'd round,
Forc'd he gives way, and sternly quits the ground.
While thus they strive, Tlepolemus the great,
Urg'd by the force of unresisted fate,
Burns with desire Sarpedon's strength to prove ;
Alcides' offspring meets the son of Jove.
Sheath'd in bright arms each adverse chief came on,
Jove's great descendant, and his greater son.
Prepar'd for combat ere the lance he toss'd,
The daring Rhodian vents his haughty boast:

"What brings this Lycian counsellor so far,
To tremble at our arms, not mix in war?
Know thy vain self; nor let their flattery move,
Who style thee son of cloud-compelling Jove.
How far unlike those chiefs of race divine,
How vast the difference of their deeds and thine!
Jove got such heroes as my sire, whose soul
No fear could daunt, nor Earth nor Hell control.
Troy felt his arm, and yon proud ramparts stand
Rais'd on the ruins of his vengeful hand:
With six small ships, and but a slender train,
He left the town a wide-deserted plain.
But what art thou? who deedless look'st around,
While unreveng'd thy Lycians bite the ground:
Small aid to Troy thy feeble force can be ;
But, wert thou greater, thou must yield to me.
Pierc'd by my spear, to endless darkness go!
I make this present to the shades below."

The son of Hercules, the Rhodian guide, Thus haughty spoke. The Lycian king reply'd : "Thy sire, O prince! o'erturn'd the Trojan state, Whose perjur'd monarch well deserv'd his fate; Those heavenly steeds the hero sought so far, False he detain'd, the just reward of war. Nor so content, the generous chief defy'd, With base reproaches and unmanły pride. But you, unworthy the high race you boast, Shall raise my glory when thy own is lost: Now meet thy fate, and, by Sarpedon slain, Add one more ghost to Pluto's gloomy reign."

He said: both javelins at an instant flew ; Both struck; both wounded; but Sarpedon's slew: Full in the boaster's neck the weapon stood. Transfix'd his throat, and drank the vital blood; The soul disdainful secks the caves of night, And his seal'd eyes for ever lose the light.

Yet not in vain, Tlepolemus, was thrown Thy angry lance; which, piercing to the bone Sarpedon's thigh, had robb'd the chief of breath; But Jove was present, and forbade the death.