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Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

Page 84

by Alexander Pope


  And twelve lay smoking on the Trojan plain:

  Then at Atrides’ haughty feet were laid

  The wealth I gather’d, and the spoils I made. 435

  Your mighty monarch these in peace possess’d;

  Some few my soldiers had, himself the rest.

  Some present too to ev’ry Prince was paid;

  And ev’ry Prince enjoys the gift he made;

  I only must refund of all his train; 440

  See what preëminence our merits gain!

  My spoil alone his greedy soul delights;

  My spouse alone must bless his lustful nights:

  The woman, let him (as he may) enjoy;

  But what ‘s the quarrel then of Greece to Troy? 445

  What to these shores th’ assembled nations draws,

  What calls for vengeance but a woman’s cause?

  Are fair endowments and a beauteous face

  Belov’d by none but those of Atreus’ race?

  The wife whom choice and passion both approve, 450

  Sure ev’ry wise and worthy man will love.

  Nor did my fair one less distinction claim;

  Slave as she was, my soul ador’d the dame.

  Wrong’d in my love, all proffers I disdain;

  Deceiv’d for once, I trust not Kings again. 455

  Ye have my answer. What remains to do,

  Your Kings, Ulysses, may consult with you.

  What needs he the defence this arm can make?

  Has he not walls no human force can shake?

  Has he not fenc’d his guarded navy round 460

  With piles, with ramparts, and a trench profound?

  And will not these (the wonders he has done)

  Repel the rage of Priam’s single son?

  There was a time (‘t was when for Greece I fought)

  When Hector’s prowess no such wonders wrought; 465

  He kept the verge of Troy, nor dared to wait

  Achilles’ fury at the Scæan gate;

  He tried it once, and scarce was saved by Fate.

  But now those ancient enmities are o’er;

  To-morrow we the fav’ring Gods implore; 470

  Then shall you see our parting vessels crown’d,

  And hear with oars the Hellespont resound.

  The third day hence, shall Phthia greet our sails,

  If mighty Neptune send propitious gales;

  Phthia to her Achilles shall restore 475

  The wealth he left for this detested shore:

  Thither the spoils of this long war shall pass,

  The ruddy gold, the steel, and shining brass;

  My beauteous captives thither I ‘ll convey,

  And all that rests of my unravish’d prey, 480

  One only valued gift your tyrant gave,

  And that resumed; the fair Lyrnessian slave.

  Then tell him, loud, that all the Greeks may hear,

  And learn to scorn the wretch they basely fear

  (For, arm’d in impudence, mankind he braves, 485

  And meditates new cheats on all his slaves;

  Tho’, shameless as he is, to face these eyes

  Is what he dares not; if he dares, he dies);

  Tell him, all terms, all commerce I decline,

  Nor share his council, nor his battle join; 490

  For once deceiv’d, was his; but twice, were mine.

  No — let the stupid Prince, whom Jove deprives

  Of sense and justice, run where frenzy drives;

  His gifts are hateful: Kings of such a kind

  Stand but as slaves before a noble mind. 495

  Not tho’ he proffer’d all himself possess’d,

  And all his rapine could from others wrest:

  Not all the golden tides of wealth that crown

  The many-peopled Orchomenian town;

  Not all proud Thebes’ unrivall’d walls contain, 500

  The world’s great Empress on th’ Egyptian plain

  (That spreads her conquests o’er a thousand states,

  And pours her Heroes thro’ a hundred gates,

  Two hundred horsemen and two hundred cars

  From each wide portal issuing to the wars); 505

  Tho’ bribes were heap’d on bribes, in number more

  Than dust in fields, or sands along the shore;

  Should all these offers for my friendship call;

  ‘T is he that offers, and I scorn them all.

  Atrides’ daughter never shall be led 510

  (An ill-match’d consort) to Achilles’ bed;

  Like golden Venus tho’ she charm’d the heart,

  And vied with Pallas in the works of art.

  Some greater Greek let those high nuptials grace,

  I hate alliance with a tyrant’s race. 515

  If Heav’n restore me to my realms with life,

  The rev’rend Peleus shall elect my wife;

  Thessalian nymphs there are, of form divine,

  And Kings that sue to mix their blood with mine.

  Bless’d in kind love, my years shall glide away, 520

  Content with just hereditary sway;

  There, deaf forever to the martial strife,

  Enjoy the dear prerogative of life.

  Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold;

  Not all Apollo’s Pythian treasures hold, 525

  Or Troy once held, in peace and pride of sway,

  Can bribe the poor possession of a day!

  Lost herds and treasures we by arms regain,

  And steeds unrivall’d on the dusty plain:

  But from our lips the vital spirit fled, 530

  Returns no more to wake the silent dead.

  My Fates long since by Thetis were disclosed,

  And each alternate, Life or Fame, proposed:

  Here if I stay, before the Trojan town,

  Short is my date, but deathless my renown; 535

  If I return, I quit immortal praise

  For years on years, and long-extended days.

  Convinc’d, tho’ late, I find my fond mistake,

  And warn the Greeks the wiser choice to make;

  To quit these shores, their native seats enjoy, 540

  Nor hope the fall of Heav’n-defended Troy.

  Jove’s arm display’d asserts her from the skies;

  Her hearts are strengthen’d, and her glories rise.

  Go then, to Greece report our fix’d design:

  Bid all your councils, all your armies join, 545

  Let all your forces, all your arts conspire,

  To save the ships, the troops, the Chiefs, from fire.

  One stratagem has fail’d, and others will:

  Ye find Achilles is unconquer’d still.

  Go then: digest my message as ye may: 550

  But here this night let rev’rend Phænix stay:

  His tedious toils and hoary hairs demand

  A peaceful death in Phthia’s friendly land.

  But whether he remain, or sail with me,

  His age be sacred, and his will be free.’ 555

  The son of Peleus ceas’d: the Chiefs around

  In silence wrapp’d, in consternation drown’d,

  Attend the stern reply. Then Phænix rose

  (Down his white beard a stream of sorrow flows),

  And while the fate of suff’ring Greece he mourn’d, 560

  With accent weak these tender words return’d:

  ‘Divine Achilles! wilt thou then retire,

  And leave our hosts in blood, our fleets on fire?

  If wrath so dreadful fill thy ruthless mind,

  How shall thy friend, thy Phænix, stay behind? 565

  The royal Peleus, when from Phthia’s coast

  He sent thee early to th’ Achaian host;

  Thy youth as then in sage debates unskill’d,

  And new to perils of the direful field;

  He bade me teach thee all the ways of war; 570

  To shine in council
s, and in camps to dare.

  Never, ah never, let me leave thy side!

  No time shall part us, and no Fate divide.

  Not tho’ the God, that breathed my life, restore

  The bloom I boasted, and the port I bore, 575

  When Greece of old beheld my youthful flames

  (Delightful Greece, the land of lovely dames).

  My father, faithless to my mother’s arms,

  Old as he was, ador’d a stranger’s charms.

  I tried what youth could do (at her desire) 580

  To win the damsel, and prevent my sire.

  My sire with curses loads my hated head,

  And cries, “Ye Furies! barren be his bed.”

  Infernal Jove, the vengeful fiends below,

  And ruthless Proserpine, confirm’d his vow. 585

  Despair and grief attract my lab’ring mind;

  Gods! what a crime my impious heart design’d!

  I thought (but some kind God that thought suppress’d)

  To plunge the poniard in my father’s breast:

  Then meditate my flight; my friends in vain 590

  With prayers entreat me, and with force detain.

  On fact of rams, black bulls, and brawny swine,

  They daily feast, with draughts of fragrant wine:

  Strong guards they placed, and watch’d nine nights entire:

  The roofs and porches flamed with constant fire. 595

  The tenth, I fore’d the gates, unseen of all:

  And, favour’d by the night, o’erleap’d the wall.

  My travels thence thro’ spacious Greece extend:

  In Phthia’s court at last my labours end.

  Your sire receiv’d me, as his son caress’d, 600

  With gifts enrich’d, and with possessions bless’d.

  The strong Dolopians thenceforth own’d my reign,

  And all the coast that runs along the main.

  By love to thee his bounties I repaid,

  And early wisdom to thy soul convey’d: 605

  Great as thou art, my lessons made thee brave,

  A child I took thee, but a hero gave.

  Thy infant breast a like affection shew’d:

  Still in my arms (an ever-pleasing load),

  Or at my knee, by Phænix wouldst thou stand; 610

  No food was grateful but from Phænix’ hand.

  I pass my watchings o’er thy helpless years,

  The tender labours, the compliant cares;

  The Gods (I thought) revers’d their hard decree,

  And Phænix felt a father’s joys in thee: 615

  Thy growing virtues justified my cares,

  And promis’d comfort to my silver hairs.

  Now be thy rage, thy fatal rage, resign’d;

  A cruel heart ill suits a manly mind:

  The Gods (the only great, and only wise) 620

  Are mov’d by off’rings, vows, and sacrifice;

  Offending man their high compassion wins,

  And daily prayers atone for daily sins.

  Prayers are Jove’s daughters, of celestial race,

  Lame are their feet, and wrinkled is their face; 625

  With humble mien, and with dejected eyes,

  Constant they follow where Injustice flies:

  Injustice, swift, erect, and unconfin’d,

  Sweeps the wide earth, and tramples o’er mankind,

  While Prayers, to heal her wrongs, move slow behind. 630

  Who hears these daughters of almighty Jove,

  For him they mediate to the throne above:

  When man rejects the humble suit they make,

  The sire revenges for the daughters’ sake;

  From Jove commission’d, fierce Injustice then 635

  Descends, to punish unrelenting men.

  Oh let not headlong passion bear the sway;

  These reconciling Goddesses obey:

  Due honours to the seed of Jove belong;

  Due honours calm the fierce and bend the strong. 640

  Were these not paid thee by the terms we bring,

  Were rage still harbour’d in the haughty King,

  Nor Greece, nor all her fortunes, should engage

  Thy friend to plead against so just a rage.

  But since what honour asks, the Gen’ral sends, 645

  And sends by those whom most thy heart commends,

  The best and noblest of the Grecian train;

  Permit not these to sue, and sue in vain!

  Let me (my son) an ancient fact unfold,

  A great example drawn from times of old; 650

  Hear what our fathers were, and what their praise,

  Who conquer’d their revenge in former days.

  ‘Where Calydon on rocky mountains stands,

  Once fought th’ Ætolian and Curetian bands;

  To guard it those, to conquer these, advance; 655

  And mutual deaths were dealt with mutual chance.

  The silver Cynthia bade Contention rise,

  In vengeance of neglected sacrifice;

  On Œneus’ fields she sent a monstrous boar,

  That levell’d harvests and whole forests tore: 660

  This beast (when many a Chief his tusks had slain)

  Great Meleager stretch’d along the plain.

  Then, for his spoils, a new debate arose,

  The neighbour nations thence commencing foes.

  Strong as they were, the bold Curetes fail’d, 665

  While Meleager’s thund’ring arm prevail’d:

  Till rage at length inflamed his lofty breast

  (For rage invades the wisest and the best).

  Curs’d by Althæa, to his wrath he yields,

  And, in his wife’s embrace, forgets the fields. 670

  ‘(She from Marpessa sprung, divinely fair,

  And matchless Idas, more than man in war;

  The God of Day adored the mother’s charms;

  Against the God the father bent his arms:

  Th’ afflicted pair, their sorrows to proclaim, 675

  From Cleopatra changed this daughter’s name,

  And call’d Alcyone; a name to shew

  The father’s grief, the mourning mother’s woe.)

  To her the Chief retired from stern debate,

  But found no peace from fierce Althæa’s hate: 680

  Althæa’s hate th’ unhappy warrior drew,

  Whose luckless hand his royal uncle slew;

  She beat the ground, and call’d the Powers beneath

  On her own son to wreak her brother’s death:

  Hell heard her curses from the realms profound, 685

  And the red fiends that walk’d the nightly round.

  In vain Ætolia her deliv’rer waits,

  War shakes her walls, and thunders at her gates.

  She sent ambassadors, a chosen band,

  Priests of the Gods, and elders of the land, 690

  Besought the Chief to save the sinking state:

  Their prayers were urgent, and their proffers great;

  (Full fifty acres of the richest ground,

  Half pasture green, and half with vineyards crown’d).

  His suppliant father, aged Œneus, came; 695

  His sisters follow’d: ev’n the vengeful dame

  Althæa sues; his friends before him fall:

  He stands relentless, and rejects them all.

  Meanwhile the victors’ shouts ascend the skies;

  The walls are scaled; the rolling flames arise; 700

  At length his wife (a form divine) appears,

  With piercing cries, and supplicating tears;

  She paints the horrors of a conquer’d town,

  The heroes slain, the palaces o’erthrown,

  The matrons ravish’d, the whole race enslaved: 705

  The warrior heard, he vanquish’d, and he saved.

  Th’ Ætolians, long disdain’d, now took their turn,

  And left the Chief their broken faith
to mourn.

  Learn hence, betimes to curb pernicious ire,

  Nor stay, till yonder fleets ascend in fire: 710

  Accept the presents; draw thy conquering sword;

  And be amongst our guardian Gods ador’d.’

  Thus he: the stern Achilles thus replied:

  ‘My second father, and my rev’rend guide!

  Thy friend, believe me, no such gifts demands, 715

  And asks no honours from a mortal’s hands:

  Jove honours me, and favours my designs:

  His pleasure guides me, and his will confines:

  And here I stay (if such his high behest)

  While life’s warm spirit beats within my breast. 720

  Yet hear one word, and lodge it in thy heart;

  No more molest me on Atrides’ part:

  Is it for him these tears are taught to flow,

  For him these sorrows? for my mortal foe?

  A gen’rous friendship no cold medium knows, 725

  Burns with one love, with one resentment glows;

  One should our int’rests, and our passions, be;

  My friend must hate the man that injures me.

  Do this, my Phœnix, ‘t is a gen’rous part,

  And share my realms, my honours, and my heart. 730

  Let these return: our voyage, or our stay,

  Rest undetermin’d till the dawning day.’

  He ceas’d: then order’d for the sage’s bed

  A warmer couch with numerous carpets spread.

  With that, stern Ajax his long silence broke, 735

  And thus, impatient, to Ulysses spoke:

  ‘Hence let us go — why waste we time in vain?

  See what effect our low submissions gain!

  Liked or not liked, his words we must relate,

  The Greeks expect them, and our heroes wait. 740

  Proud as he is, that iron heart retains

  Its stubborn purpose, and his friends disdains.

  Stern, and unpitying! if a brother bleed,

  On just atonement, we remit the deed;

  A sire the slaughter of his son forgives; 745

  The price of blood discharged, the murd’rer lives:

  The haughtiest hearts at length their rage resign,

  And gifts can conquer ev’ry soul but thine:

  The Gods that unrelenting breast have steel’d,

  And curs’d thee with a mind that cannot yield. 750

  One woman-slave was ravish’d from thy arms:

  Lo, sev’n are offer’d, and of equal charms.

  Then hear, Achilles! be of better mind;

  Revere thy roof, and to thy guests be kind;

  And know the men, of all the Grecian host 755

  Who honour worth, and prize thy valour most.’

  ‘Oh Soul of Battles, and thy people’s guide!’

  (To Ajax thus the first of Greeks replied)

  ‘Well hast thou spoke; but at the tyrant’s name

 

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