by John Dryden
Mine then are all his Actions of the War;
Great Telephus was conquer’d by my Spear,
And after cur’d: To me the Thebans owe, 280
Lesbos and Tenedos, their Overthrow;
Syros and Cylla! Not on all to dwell,
By me Lyrnesus, and strong Chrysa fell:
And since I sent the Man who Hector slew,
To me the noble Hector’s Death is due: 285
Those Arms I put into his living Hand,
Those Arms, Pelides dead, I now demand.
When Greece was injur’d in the Spartan Prince,
And met at Aulis to revenge th’ Offence,
’Twas a dead Calm, or adverse Blasts that reign’d, 290
And in the Port the Wind-bound Fleet detain’d:
Bad Signs were seen, and Oracles severe
Were daily thunder’d in our General’s Ear:
That by his Daughter’s Blood we must appease
Diana’s kindled Wrath, and free the Seas. 295
Affection, Int’rest, Fame, his Heart assail’d;
But soon the Father o’er the King prevail’d:
Bold, on himself he took the pious Crime,
As angry with the Gods, as they with him.
No Subject cou’d sustain their Sov’raign’s Look, 300
Till this hard Enterprize I undertook:
I only durst th’ Imperial Pow’r controul,
And undermin’d the Parent in his Soul;
Forc’d him t’ exert the King for common Good,
And pay our Ransom with his Daughters Blood. 305
Never was Cause more difficult to plead,
Than where the Judge against himself decreed:
Yet this I won by Dint of Argument;
The Wrongs his injur’d Brother underwent,
And his own office sham’d him to consent. 310
’Twas harder yet to move the Mother’s Mind,
And to this heavy Task was I design’d:
Reasons against her Love I knew were vain:
I circumvented whom I could not gain:
Had Ajax been employ’d, our slacken’d Sails 315
Had still at Aulis waited happy Gales.
Arriv’d at Troy, your Choice was fix’d on me,
A fearless Envoy, fit for a bold Embassy:
Secure, I enter’d through the hostile Court,
Glitt’ring with Steel, and crowded with Resort: 320
There, in the midst of Arms, I plead our Cause,
Urge the foul Rape, and violated Laws;
Accuse the Foes, as Authors of the Strife,
Reproach the Ravisher, demand the Wife
Priam, Antenor, and the wiser few, 325
I mov’d; but Paris and his lawless Crew
Scarce held their Hands, and lifted Swords: But stood
In Act to quench their Impious thirst of Blood:
This Menelaus knows; expos’d to share
With me the rough Preludium of the War. 330
Endless it were to tell what I have done,
In Arms, or Council, since the Siege begun:
The first Encounters pass’d, the Foe repell’d,
They skulk’d within the Town we kept the Field.
War seem’d asleep for nine long Years, at length, 335
Both Sides resolv’d to push, we try’d our Strength.
Now what did Ajax while our Arms took Breath,
Vers’d only in the gross mechanick Trade of Death?
If you require my Deeds, with ambush’d Arms
I trap’d the Foe, or tir’d with false Alarms; 340
Secur’d the Ships, drew Lines along the Plain,
The Fainting chear’d, chastis’d the Rebel-train,
Provided Forage, our spent Arms renew’d;
Employ’d at home, or sent abroad, the common Cause pursu’d.
The King, deluded in a Dream by Jove, 345
Despair’d to take the Town, and order’d to remove.
What Subject durst arraign the Pow’r supreme,
Producing Jove to justify his Dream?
Ajax might wish the Soldiers to retain
From shameful Flight, but Wishes were in vain: 350
As wanting of effect had been his Words,
Such as of course his thundring Tongue affords.
But did this Boaster threaten, did he pray,
Or by his own Example urge their stay?
None, none of these, but ran himself away. 355
I saw him run, and was asham’d to see;
Who ply’d his Feet so fast to get aboard as He?
Then speeding through the Place, I made a stand,
And loudly cry’d, O base degen’rate Band,
To leave a Town already in your Hand! 360
After so long expence of Blood, for Fame,
To bring home nothing but perpetual Shame!
These Words, or what I have forgotten since,
(For Grief inspir’d me then with Eloquence)
Reduc’d their Minds, they leave the crowded Port, 365
And to their late forsaken Camp resort;
Dismay’d the Council met: This Man was there,
But mute, and not recover’d of his Fear.
Thersites tax’d the King, and loudly rail’d,
But his wide opening Mouth with Blows I seal’d. 370
Then, rising, I excite their Souls to Fame,
And kindle sleeping Virtue into Flame,
From thence, whatever he perform’d in Fight
Is justly mine, who drew him back from Flight.
Which of the Grecian Chiefs consorts with Thee? 375
But Diomede desires my Company,
And still communicates his Praise with me.
As guided by a God, secure he goes,
Arm’d with my Fellowship amid the Foes:
And sure no little Merit I may boast, 380
Whom such a Man selects from such an Hoast;
Unforc’d by Lots I went without Affright,
To dare with him the Dangers of the Night:
On the same Errand sent, we met the Spy
Of Hector, double tongu’d, and us’d to lie; 385
Him I dispatch’d, but not till undermin’d
I drew him first to tell what treacherous Troy design’d:
My Task perform’d, with Praise I had retir’d,
But not content with this, to greater Praise aspir’d;
Invaded Rhæsus, and his Thracian Crew, 390
And him, and his, in their own Strength, I slew;
Return’d a Victor, all my Vows compleat,
With the King’s Chariot, in his Royal Seat:
Refuse me now his Arms, whose fiery Steeds
Were promis’d to the Spy for his Nocturnal Deeds: 395
And let dull Ajax bear away my Right,
When all his Days out-ballance this one Night.
Nor fought I darkling still: The Sun beheld
With slaughter’d Lycians when I strew’d the Field:
You saw, and counted as I pass’d along, 400
Alastor, Cromyus, Ceranos the Strong,
Alcander, Prytanis, and Halius,
Noemon, Charopes, and Ennomus,
Choon, Chersidamas; and five beside
Men of obscure Descent, but Courage try’d: 405
All these this Hand laid breathless on the Ground;
Nor want I Proofs of many a manly Wound:
All honest, all before: Believe not me;
Words may deceive, but credit what you see.
At this he bar’d his Breast, and show’d his Scars, 410
As of a furrow’d Field, well plough’d with Wars;
Nor is this Part unexercis’d, said he;
That Gyant-bulk of his from Wounds is free:
Safe in his Shield he fears no Foe to try,
And better manages his Blood than I: 415
But this avails me not; our Boaster strove
Not with our Foes alone,
but partial Jove,
To save the Fleet: This I confess is true,
(Nor will I take from any Man his Due:)
But thus assuming all, he robs from you. 420
Some part of Honour to your share will fall,
He did the best indeed, but did not all.
Patroclus in Achilles Arms, and thought
The Chief he seem’d, with equal Ardour fought;
Preserv’d the Fleet, repell’d the raging Fire, 425
And forc’d the fearful Trojans to retire.
But Ajax boasts, that he was only thought
A Match for Hector, who the Combat sought:
Sure he forgets the King, the Chiefs, and Me;
All were as eager for the Fight as He: 430
He but the ninth, and, not by publick Voice,
Or ours preferr’d, was only Fortunes Choice:
They fought, nor can our Hero boast the Event,
For Hector from the Field unwounded went.
Why am I forc’d to name that fatal Day, 435
That snatch’d the Prop and Pride of Greece away?
I saw Pelides sink, with pious Grief,
And ran in vain, alas, to his Relief;
For the grave Soul was fled: Full of my Friend,
I rush’d amid the War, his Relicks to defend: 440
Nor ceas’d my Toil till I redeem’d the Prey,
And loaded with Achilles, march’d away:
Those Arms, which on these Shoulders then I bore,
’Tis just you to these Shoulders should restore.
You see I want not Nerves, who cou’d sustain 445
The pond’rous Ruins of so great a Man:
Or if in others equal Force you find,
None is endu’d with a more grateful Mind.
Did Thetis then, ambitious in her Care,
These Arms thus labour’d for her Son prepare; 450
That Ajax after him the heav’nly gift should wear?
For that dull Soul to stare, with stupid Eyes,
On the learn’d unintelligible Prize!
What are to him the Sculptures of the Shield,
Heav’ns Planets, Earth, and Oceans watry Field? 455
The Pleiads, Hyads; less, and greater Bear,
Undipp’d in Seas; Orion’s angry Star;
Two diff’ring Cities, grav’d on either Hand?
Would he wear Arms he cannot understand?
Beside, what wise Objections he prepares 460
Against my late Accession to the Wars?
Does not the Fool perceive his Argument
Is with more force against Achilles bent?
For, if Dissembling be so great a Crime,
The Fault is common, and the same in him: 465
And if he taxes both of long delay,
My Guilt is less, who sooner came away.
His pious Mother anxious for his Life,
Detain’d her Son, and me, my pious Wife.
To them the Blossoms of our Youth were due: 470
Our riper Manhood we reserv’d for you.
But grant me guilty, ’tis not much my care,
When with so great a Man my Guilt I share:
My Wit to War the matchless Hero brought,
But by this Fool I never had been caught. 475
Nor need I wonder, that on me he threw
Such foul Aspersions, when he spares not you:
If Palamede unjustly fell by me,
Your Honour suffer’d in th’ unjust Decree:
I but accus’d, you doom’d: And yet he dy’d, 480
Convinc’d of Treason, and was fairly try’d:
You heard not he was false; your Eyes beheld
The Traytor manifest; the Bribe reveal’d.
That Philoctetes is on Lemnos left,
Wounded, forlorn, of human Aid bereft, 485
Is not my Crime, or not my Crime alone;
Defend your Justice, for the Fact’s your own:
’Tis true, th’ Advice was mine: that staying there
He might his weary Limbs with rest repair,
From a long Voyage free, and from a longer War. 490
He took the Counsel, and he lives at least;
Th’ Event declares I counsell’d for the best:
Though Faith is all in Ministers of State;
For who can promise to be fortunate?
Now since his Arrows are the Fate of Troy, 495
Do not my Wit, or weak Address, employ;
Send Ajax there, with his persuasive Sense
To mollify the Man, and draw him thence:
But Xanthus shall run backward; Ida stand
A leafless Mountain; and the Grecian Band 500
Shall fight for Troy; if when my Counsels fail,
The Wit of heavy Ajax can prevail.
Hard Philoctetes, exercise thy Spleen,
Against thy Fellows, and the King of Men;
Curse my devoted Head, above the rest, 505
And wish in Arms to meet me Breast to Breast:
Yet I the dang’rous Task will undertake
And either die my self, or bring thee back.
Nor doubt the same Success, as when before
The Phrygian Prophet to these Tents I bore, 510
Surpriz’d by Night, and forc’d him to declare
In what was plac’d the fortune of the War;
Heav’ns dark Decrees, and Answers to display,
And how to take the Town, and where the Secret lay:
Yet this I compass’d, and from Troy convey’d 515
The fatal Image of their Guardian-Maid;
That Work was mine; for Pallas, though our Friend,
Yet while she was in Troy, did Troy defend.
Now what has Ajax done, or what design’d,
A noisy Nothing, and an empty Wind? 520
If he be what he promises in Show,
Why was I sent, and why fear’d he to go
Our boasting Champion thought the Task not light
To pass the Guards, commit himself to Night;
Not only through a hostile Town to pass, 525
But scale, with steep Ascent, the sacred Place;
With wand’ring Steps to search the Cittadel,
And from the Priests their Patroness to steal:
Then through surrounding Foes to force my way,
And bear in Triumph home the heav’nly Prey; 530
Which had I not, Ajax in vain had held,
Before that monst’rous Bulk, his sev’nfold Shield
That Night to conquer Troy I might be said
When Troy was liable to Conquest made.
Why point’st thou to my Partner of the War? 535
Tydides had indeed a worthy share
In all my Toil, and Praise; but when thy Might
Our Ships protected, didst thou singly fight?
All join’d, and thou of many wert but one;
I ask’d no Friend, nor had, but him alone; 540
Who, had he not been well assur’d, that Art
And Conduct were of War the better part,
And more avail’d than Strength, my valiant Friend
Had urg’d a better Right, than Ajax can pretend:
As good at least Euripylus may claim, 545
And the more moderate Ajax of the Name:
The Cretan King, and his brave Charioteer,
And Menelaus bold with Sword and Spear;
All these had been my Rivals in the Shield,
And yet all these to my Pretensions yield 550
Thy boist’rous Hands are then of Use, when I
With this directing Head those Hands apply.
Brawn without Brain is thine: My prudent Care
Foresees, provides, administers the War:
Thy Province is to Fight; but when shall be 555
The time to Fight, the King consults with me:
No dram of Judgment with thy force is join’d;
Thy Body is of Profit, and my Mind.
; By how much more the Ship her Safety owes
To him who steers, than him that only rows, 560
By how much more the Captain merits Praise
Than he who Fights, and Fighting but obeys;
By so much greater is my Worth than thine,
Who canst but execute what I design.
What gain’st thou brutal Man, if I confess 565
Thy Strength superiour, when thy Wit is less?
Mind is the Man: I claim my whole Desert
From the Mind’s Vigour, and th’ immortal part.
But you, O Grecian Chiefs, reward my Care,
Be grateful to your Watchman of the War: 570
For all my Labours in so long a space,
Sure I may plead a Title to your Grace:
Enter the Town; I then unbarr’d the Gates,
When I remov’d their tutelary Fates.
By all our common hopes, if hopes they be 575
Which I have now reduc’d to Certainty;
By falling Troy, by yonder tott’ring Towers,
And by their taken Gods, which now are ours;
Or if there yet a farther Task remains,
To be perform’d by Prudence or by Pains; 580
If yet some desperate Action rests behind,
That asks high Conduct, and a dauntless Mind:
If ought be wanting to the Trojan Doom,
Which none but I can manage and o’ercome,
Award those Arms I ask, by your Decree: 585
Or give to this what you refuse to me.
He ceas’d: And ceasing with Respect he bow’d,
And with his Hand at once the fatal Statue show’d.
Heav’n, Air and Ocean rung, with loud Applause,
And by the general Vote he gain’d his Cause. 590
Thus Conduct won the Prize, when Courage fail’d,
And Eloquence o’er brutal Force prevail’d.
The Death of Ajax
He who cou’d often, and alone withstand
The Foe, the Fire, and Jove’s own partial Hand,
Now cannot his unmaster’d Grief sustain, 595
But yields to Rage, to Madness, and Disdain;
Then snatching out his Fauchion, Thou, said He,
Art mine; Ulysses lays no claim to Thee.
O often try’d, and ever trusty Sword,
Now do thy last kind Office to thy Lord: 600
’Tis Ajax, who requests thy Aid, to show
None but himself, himself cou’d overthrow:
He said, and with so good a Will to die
Did to his Breast the fatal Point apply,
It found his Heart, a way till then unknown, 605
Where never Weapon enter’d but his own.
No Hands cou’d force it thence, so fix’d it stood,
Till out it rush’d, expell’d by Streams of spouting Blood.
The fruitful Blood produc’d a Flow’r, which grew