Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

by Alexander Pope

  Earth groans beneath him, and his arms resound;

  The starting coursers tremble with affright;

  The soul indignant seeks the realms of night. 360

  To guard his slaughter’d friend, Æneas flies,

  His spear extending where the carcass lies,

  Watchful he wheels, protects it every way,

  As the grim lion stalks around his prey.

  O’er the fall’n trunk his ample shield display’d, 365

  He hides the hero with his mighty shade,

  And threats aloud: the Greeks with longing eyes

  Behold at distance, but forbear the prize.

  Then fierce Tydides stoops; and, from the fields

  Heav’d with vast force, a rocky fragment wields. 370

  Not two strong men th’ enormous weight could raise,

  Such men as live in these degen’rate days.

  He swung it round; and, gath’ring strength to throw,

  Discharged the pond’rous ruin at the foe.

  Where to the hip th’ inserted thigh unites, 375

  Full on the bone the pointed marble lights;

  Thro’ both the tendons broke the rugged stone.

  And stripp’d the skin, and crack’d the solid bone.

  Sunk on his knees, and stagg’ring with his pains,

  His falling bulk his bended arms sustains; 380

  Lost in a dizzy mist the warrior lies;

  A sudden cloud comes swimming o’er his eyes.

  There the brave Chief, who mighty numbers sway’d,

  Oppress’d had sunk to death’s eternal shade:

  But heav’nly Venus, mindful of the love 385

  She bore Anchises in th’ Idæan grove,

  His danger views with anguish and despair,

  And guards her offspring with a mother’s care.

  About her much-lov’d son her arms she throws,

  Her arms whose whiteness match the falling snows. 390

  Screen’d from the foe behind her shining veil,

  The swords wave harmless, and the jav’lins fail:

  Safe thro’ the rushing horse, and feather’d flight

  Of sounding shafts, she bears him from the fight.

  Nor Sthenelus, with unassisting hands, 395

  Remain’d unheedful of his lord’s commands:

  His panting steeds, remov’d from out the war,

  He fix’d with straiten’d traces to the car.

  Next, rushing to the Dardan spoil, detains

  The heav’nly coursers with the flowing manes: 400

  These, in proud triumph to the fleet convey’d,

  No longer now a Trojan lord obey’d.

  That charge to bold Deïpylus he gave

  (Whom most he lov’d, as brave men love the brave),

  Then, mounting on his car, resumed the rein, 405

  And follow’d where Tydides swept the plain.

  Meanwhile (his conquest ravish’d from his eyes)

  The raging Chief in chase of Venus flies:

  No Goddess she commission’d to the field,

  Like Pallas dreadful with her sable shield, 410

  Or fierce Bellona thund’ring at the wall,

  While flames ascend, and mighty ruins fall;

  He knew soft combats suit the tender dame,

  New to the field, and still a foe to fame.

  Thro’ breaking ranks his furious course he bends, 415

  And at the Goddess his broad lance extends;

  Thro’ her bright veil the daring weapon drove,

  Th’ ambrosial veil, which all the Graces wove:

  Her snowy hand the razing steel profaned,

  And the transparent skin with crimson stain’d. 420

  From the clear vein a stream immortal flow’d,

  Such stream as issues from a wounded God;

  Pure emanation! uncorrupted flood;

  Unlike our gross, diseas’d, terrestrial blood;

  (For not the bread of man their life sustains, 425

  Nor wine’s inflaming juice supplies their veins).

  With tender shrieks the Goddess fill’d the place;

  And dropp’d her offspring from her weak embrace.

  Him Phœbus took: he casts a cloud around

  The fainting Chief, and wards the mortal wound. 430

  Then with a voice that shook the vaulted skies,

  The King insults the Goddess as she flies:

  ‘Ill with Jove’s daughter bloody fights agree,

  The field of combat is no scene for thee:

  Go, let thy own soft sex employ thy care, 435

  Go, lull the coward, or delude the fair.

  Taught by this stroke, renounce the war’s alarms,

  And learn to tremble at the name of arms.’

  Tydides thus. The Goddess, seiz’d with dread,

  Confused, distracted, from the conflict fled. 440

  To aid her, swift the winged Iris flew,

  Wrapt in a mist above the warring crew.

  The Queen of Love with faded charms she found,

  Pale was her cheek, and livid look’d the wound.

  To Mars, who sat remote, they bent their way; 445

  Far on the left, with clouds involv’d he lay;

  Beside him stood his lance, distain’d with gore,

  And, rein’d with gold, his foaming steeds before:

  Low at his knee, she begg’d, with streaming eyes,

  Her brother’s car, to mount the distant skies, 450

  And shew’d the wound by fierce Tydides giv’n,

  A mortal man, who dares encounter Heav’n.

  Stern Mars attentive hears the Queen complain,

  And to her hand commits the golden rein:

  She mounts the seat, oppress’d with silent woe, 455

  Driv’n by the Goddess of the Painted Bow.

  The lash resounds, the rapid chariot flies,

  And in a moment scales the lofty skies.

  There stopp’d the car, and there the coursers stood,

  Fed by fair Iris with ambrosial food. 460

  Before her mother, Love’s bright Queen appears,

  O’erwhelm’d with anguish and dissolv’d in tears;

  She rais’d her in her arms, beheld her bleed,

  And ask’d what God had wrought this guilty deed?

  Then she: ‘This insult from no God I found, 465

  An impious mortal gave the daring wound!

  Behold the deed of haughty Diomed!

  ‘T was in the son’s defence the mother bled.

  The war with Troy no more the Grecians wage;

  But with the Gods (th’ immortal Gods) engage.’ 470

  Dione then: ‘Thy wrongs with patience bear,

  And share those griefs inferior Powers must share;

  Unnumber’d woes mankind from us sustain,

  And men with woes afflict the Gods again.

  The mighty Mars, in mortal fetters bound, 475

  And lodg’d in brazen dungeons under ground,

  Full thirteen moons imprison’d roar’d in vain;

  Otus and Ephialtes held the chain;

  Perhaps had perish’d, had not Hermes’ care

  Restored the groaning God to upper air. 480

  Great Juno’s self has borne her weight of pain,

  Th’ imperial partner of the heav’nly reign;

  Amphitryon’s son infix’d the deadly dart,

  And fill’d with anguish her immortal heart.

  Ev’n Hell’s grim King Alcides’ power confess’d, 485

  The shaft found entrance in his iron breast;

  To Jove’s high palace for a cure he fled,

  Pierc’d in his own dominions of the dead;

  Where Pæon, sprinkling heav’nly balm around,

  Assuaged the glowing pangs and closed the wound. 490

  Rash, impious man! to stain the bless’d abodes,

  And drench his arrows in the blood of Gods!

  But thou (tho’ Pallas urged thy
frantic deed),

  Whose spear ill-fated makes a Goddess bleed,

  Know thou, whoe’er with heav’nly power contends, 495

  Short is his date, and soon his glory ends;

  From fields of death when late he shall retire,

  No infant on his knees shall call him sire.

  Strong as thou art, some God may yet be found,

  To stretch thee pale and gasping on the ground; 500

  Thy distant wife, Ægiale the fair,

  Starting from sleep with a distracted air,

  Shall rouse thy slaves, and her lost lord deplore,

  The brave, the great, the glorious, now no more!’

  This said, she wiped from Venus’ wounded palm 505

  The sacred ichor, and infused the balm.

  Juno and Pallas with a smile survey’d,

  And thus to Jove began the Blue-eyed Maid:

  ‘Permit thy daughter, gracious Jove! to tell

  How this mischance the Cyprian Queen befel. 510

  As late she tried with passion to inflame

  The tender bosom of a Grecian dame,

  Allured the Fair with moving thoughts of joy,

  To quit her country for some youth of Troy;

  The clasping zone, with golden buckles bound, 515

  Razed her soft hand with this lamented wound.’

  The Sire of Gods and men superior smiled,

  And, calling Venus, thus address’d his child:

  ‘Not these, O daughter, are thy proper cares,

  Thee milder arts befit, and softer wars; 520

  Sweet smiles are thine, and kind endearing charms;

  To Mars and Pallas leave the deeds of arms.’

  Thus they in Heav’n. While on the plain below

  The fierce Tydides charged his Dardan foe,

  Flush’d with celestial blood pursued his way, 525

  And fearless dared the threat’ning God of Day;

  Already in his hopes he saw him kill’d,

  Tho’ screen’d behind Apollo’s mighty shield.

  Thrice, rushing furious, at the Chief he struck;

  His blazing buckler thrice Apollo shook: 530

  He tried the fourth: when, breaking from the cloud,

  A more than mortal voice was heard aloud:

  ‘O son of Tydeus, cease! be wise, and see

  How vast the diff’rence of the Gods and thee;

  Distance immense! between the Powers that shine 535

  Above, eternal, deathless, and divine,

  And mortal man! a wretch of humble birth,

  A short-lived reptile in the dust of earth.’

  So spoke the God who darts celestial fires;

  He dreads his fury, and some steps retires. 540

  Then Phœbus bore the chief of Venus’ race

  To Troy’s high fane, and to his holy place;

  Latona there and Phœbe heal’d the wound;

  With vigour arm’d him, and with glory crown’d.

  This done, the patron of the silver bow 545

  A phantom rais’d, the same in shape and show

  With great Æneas; such the form he bore,

  And such in fight the radiant arms he wore.

  Around the spectre bloody wars are waged,

  And Greece and Troy with clashing shields engaged. 550

  Meantime on Ilion’s tower Apollo stood,

  And, calling Mars, thus urged the raging God:

  ‘Stern Power of Arms, by whom the mighty fall,

  Who bathe in blood, and shake th’ embattled wall!

  Rise in thy wrath! to Hell’s abhorr’d abodes 555

  Despatch yon Greek, and vindicate the Gods.

  First rosy Venus felt his brutal rage;

  Me next he charged, and dares all Heav’n engage:

  The wretch would brave high Heav’n’s immortal Sire,

  His triple thunder, and his bolts of fire.’ 560

  The God of Battles issues on the plain,

  Stirs all the ranks, and fires the Trojan train:

  In form like Acamas, the Thracian guide,

  Enraged, to Troy’s retiring Chiefs he cried:

  ‘How long, ye sons of Priam! will ye fly, 565

  And unrevenged see Priam’s people die?

  Still unresisted shall the foe destroy,

  And stretch the slaughter to the gates of Troy?

  Lo, brave Æneas sinks beneath his wound,

  Not godlike Hector more in arms renown’d: 570

  Haste all, and take the gen’rous 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 address’d:

  ‘Say, Chief, is all thy ancient valour lost? 575

  Where are thy threats, and where thy glorious boast,

  That, propp’d 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. 580

  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) bless’d, 585

  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; 590

  While Hector idle stands, not bids the brave

  Their wives, their infants, and their altars, save.

  Haste, Warrior, haste! preserve thy threaten’d state;

  Or one vast burst of all-involving Fate

  Full o’er your towers shall fall, and sweep away 595

  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 Greece oppose;

  Such care thy friends deserve, and such thy foes.’ 600

  Stung to the heart the gen’rous 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; 605

  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, they stand: the Greeks their fury dare,

  Condense their powers, and wait the growing war. 610

  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 grey dust, rising with collected winds, 615

  Drives o’er the barn, and whitens all the hinds:

  So, white with dust, the Grecian host appears,

  From trampling steeds, and thund’ring charioteers

  The dusky clouds from labour’d earth arise,

  And roll in smoking volumes to the skies. 620

  Mars hovers o’er them with his sable shield,

  And adds new horrors to the darken’d field;

  Pleas’d with this charge, and ardent to fulfil,

  In Troy’s defence, Apollo’s heav’nly will:

  Soon as from fight the Blue-eyed Maid retires, 625

  Each Trojan bosom with new warmth he fires.

  And now the God, from forth his sacred fane,

  Produced Æneas to the shouting train;

  Alive, unharm’d, with all his peers around,


  Erect he stood, and vig’rous from his wound: 630

  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 flames.

  Stern Diomed with either Ajax stood, 635

  And great Ulysses, bathed in hostile blood.

  Embodied close, the lab’ring 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. 640

  So, when th’ embattled clouds in dark array

  Along the skies their gloomy lines display,

  When now the North his boist’rous rage has spent,

  And peaceful sleeps the liquid element,

  The low-hung vapours, motionless and still, 645

  Rest on the summits of the shaded hill;

  Till the mass scatters as the winds arise,

  Dispers’d and broken thro’ the ruffled skies.

  Nor was the Gen’ral wanting to his train;

  From troop to troop he toils thro’ all the plain: 650

  ‘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, 655

  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 Deicoön’s chance: 660

  Æneas’ 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 transpierc’d his shield:

  His shield too weak the furious dart to stay, 665

  Thro’ his broad belt the weapon forced its way;

  The grisly wound dismiss’d his soul to Hell,

  His arms around him rattled as he fell.

  Then fierce Æneas, brandishing his blade,

  In dust Orsilochus and Crethon laid, 670

  Whose sire Diocleus, wealthy, brave, and great,

  In well-built Pheræ held his lofty seat:

  Sprung from Alpheus, plenteous stream! that yields

  Increase of harvests to the Pylian fields:

  He got Orsilochus, Diocleus he, 675

  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. 680