Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

Home > Fantasy > Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series > Page 99
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 99

by Alexander Pope


  If e’er thou sign’st our wishes with thy nod;

  Perform the promise of a gracious God!

  This day preserve our navies from the flame,

  And save the reliques of the Grecian name.’ 435

  Thus pray’d the sage: th’ Eternal gave consent,

  And peals of Thunder shook the firmament.

  Presumptuous Troy mistook th’ accepting sign,

  And catch’d new fury at the voice divine.

  As, when black tempests mix the seas and skies, 440

  The roaring deeps in wat’ry mountains rise,

  Above the sides of some tall ship ascend,

  Its womb they deluge, and its ribs they rend:

  Thus loudly roaring, and o’erpowering all,

  Mount the thick Trojans up the Grecian wall; 445

  Legions on legions from each side arise:

  Thick sound the keels; the storm of arrows flies:

  Fierce on the ships above, the cars below,

  These wield the mace, and those the jav’lin throw.

  While thus the thunder of the battle raged, 450

  And lab’ring armies round the works engaged;

  Still in the tent Patroclus sat, to tend

  The good Eurypylus, his wounded friend.

  He sprinkles healing balms, to anguish kind,

  And adds discourse, the med’cine of the mind. 455

  But when he saw, ascending up the fleet,

  Victorious Troy; then, starting from his seat,

  With bitter groans his sorrows he express’d;

  He wrings his hands, he beats his manly breast.

  ‘Tho’ yet thy state require redress’ (he cries), 460

  ‘Depart I must: what horrors strike my eyes!

  Charged with Achilles’ high commands I go,

  A mournful witness of this scene of woe:

  I haste to urge him, by his country’s care,

  To rise in arms, and shine again in war. 465

  Perhaps some fav’ring God his soul may bend:

  The voice is powerful of a faithful friend.’

  He spoke; and, speaking, swifter than the wind

  Sprung from the tent, and left the war behind.

  Th’ embodied Greeks the fierce attack sustain, 470

  But strive, tho’ numerous, to repulse in vain:

  Nor could the Trojans, thro’ that firm array,

  Force, to the fleet and tents, th’ impervious way.

  As when a shipwright, with Palladian art,

  Smooths the rough wood, and levels ev’ry part: 475

  With equal hand he guides his whole design,

  By the just rule, and the directing line:

  The martial leaders, with like skill and care,

  Preserv’d their line, and equal kept the war.

  Brave deeds of arms thro’ all the ranks were tried, 480

  And ev’ry ship sustain’d an equal tide.

  At one proud bark, high-tow’ring o’er the fleet,

  Ajax the great and Godlike Hector meet:

  For one bright prize the matchless Chiefs contend,

  Nor this the ships can fire, nor that defend; 485

  One kept the shore, and one the vessel trod;

  That fix’d as fate, this acted by a God.

  The son of Clytius in his daring hand,

  The deck approaching, shakes a flaming brand;

  But pierc’d by Telamon’s huge lance expires; 490

  Thund’ring he falls, and drops th’ extinguish’d fires.

  Great Hector view’d him with a sad survey,

  As stretch’d in dust before the stern he lay.

  ‘Oh! all of Trojan, all of Lycian race!

  Stand to your arms, maintain this arduous space. 495

  Lo! where the son of royal Clytius lies,

  Ah, save his arms, secure his obsequies!’

  This said, his eager, jav’lin sought the foe:

  But Ajax shunn’d the meditated blow.

  Not vainly yet the forceful lance was thrown; 500

  It stretch’d in dust unhappy Lycophron:

  An exile long, sustain’d at Ajax’ board,

  A faithful servant to a foreign lord;

  In peace, in war, for ever at his side,

  Near his lov’d master, as he liv’d, he died. 505

  From the high poop he tumbles on the sand,

  And lies, a lifeless load, along the land.

  With anguish Ajax views the piercing sight,

  And thus inflames his brother to the fight:

  ‘Teucer, behold! extended on the shore, 510

  Our friend, our lov’d companion! now no more!

  Dear as a parent, with a parent’s care

  To fight our wars, he left his native air.

  This death deplor’d to Hector’s rage we owe;

  Revenge, revenge it on the cruel foe! 515

  Where are those darts on which the fates attend?

  And where the bow which Phœbus taught to bend?’

  Impatient Teucer, hast’ning to his aid,

  Before the Chief his ample bow display’d;

  The well-stored quiver on his shoulders hung: 520

  Then hiss’d his arrow, and the bow-string sung.

  Clytus, Pisenor’s son, renown’d in fame

  (To thee, Polydamas! an honour’d name),

  Drove thro’ the thickest of th’ embattled plains

  The startling steeds, and shook his eager reins. 525

  As all on glory ran his ardent mind,

  The pointed death arrests him from behind:

  Thro’ his fair neck the thrilling arrow flies;

  In youth’s first bloom reluctantly he dies.

  Hurl’d from the lofty seat, at distance far, 530

  The headlong coursers spurn his empty car;

  Till sad Polydamas the steeds restrain’d,

  And gave, Astynous, to thy careful hand;

  Then, fired to vengeance, rush’d amidst the foe;

  Rage edg’d his sword, and strengthen’d ev’ry blow. 535

  Once more bold Teucer, in his country’s cause,

  At Hector’s breast a chosen arrow draws:

  And had the weapon found the destin’d way,

  Thy fall, great Trojan! had renown’d that day.

  But Hector was not doom’d to perish then: 540

  Th’ all-wise disposer of the fates of men

  (Imperial Jove) his present death withstands;

  Nor was such glory due to Teucer’s hands.

  At his full stretch as the tough string he drew,

  Struck by an arm unseen, it burst in two: 545

  Down dropp’d the bow: the shaft with brazen head

  Fell innocent, and on the dust lay dead.

  Th’ astonish’d archer to great Ajax cries:

  ‘Some God prevents our destin’d enterprise:

  Some God propitious to the Trojan foe, 550

  Has, from my arm unfailing, struck the bow,

  And broke the nerve my hands had twined with art,

  Strong to impel the flight of many a dart.’

  ‘Since Heav’n commands it’ (Ajax made reply),

  ‘Dismiss the bow, and lay thy arrows by: 555

  Thy arms no less suffice the lance to wield,

  And quit the quiver for the pond’rous shield.

  In the first ranks indulge thy thirst of fame,

  Thy brave example shall the rest inflame.

  Fierce as they are, by long successes vain, 560

  To force our fleet, or ev’n a ship to gain,

  Asks toil, and sweat, and blood: their utmost might

  Shall find its match — No more; ‘t is ours to fight.’

  Then Teucer laid his faithless bow aside:

  The fourfold buckler o’er his shoulder tied; 565

  On his brave head a crested helm he placed,

  With nodding horsehair formidably graced;

  A dart, whose point with brass refulgent shines,
r />   The warrior wields; and his great brother joins.

  This Hector saw, and thus express’d his joy; 570

  ‘Ye troops of Lycia, Dardanus, and Troy!

  Be mindful of yourselves, your ancient fame,

  And spread your glory with the navy’s flame.

  Jove is with us; I saw his hand, but now,

  From the proud archer strike his vaunted bow. 575

  Indulgent Jove! how plain thy favours shine,

  When happy nations bear the marks divine!

  How easy then to see the sinking state

  Of realms accurs’d, deserted, reprobate!

  Such is the fate of Greece, and such is ours: 580

  Behold, ye warriors, and exert your powers.

  Death is the worst; a fate which all must try;

  And for our country’ t is a bliss to die.

  The gallant man, tho’ slain in fight he be,

  Yet leaves his nation safe, his children free; 585

  Entails a debt on all the grateful state;

  His own brave friends shall glory in his fate;

  His wife live honour’d, all his race succeed,

  And late posterity enjoy the deed!’

  This rous’d the soul in ev’ry Trojan breast. 590

  The godlike Ajax next his Greeks address’d:

  ‘How long, ye warriors of the Argive race,

  (To gen’rous Argos what a dire disgrace!)

  How long on these curs’d confines will ye lie,

  Yet undetermin’d, or to live, or die? 595

  What hopes remain, what methods to retire,

  If once your vessels catch the Trojan fire?

  Mark how the flames approach, how near they fall,

  How Hector calls, and Troy obeys his call!

  Not to the dance that dreadful voice invites; 600

  It calls to death, and all the rage of fights.

  ‘T is now no time for wisdom or debates;

  To your own hands are trusted all your fates:

  And better far, in one decisive strife,

  One day should end our labour, or our life, 605

  Than keep this hard-got inch of barren sands,

  Still press’d, and press’d by such inglorious hands.’

  The list’ning Grecians feel their leader’s flame,

  And ev’ry kindling bosom pants for fame.

  Then mutual slaughters spread on either side; 610

  By Hector here the Phocian Schedius died;

  There, pierc’d by Ajax, sank Laodamas,

  Chief of the foot, of old Antenor’s race.

  Polydamas laid Otus on the sand,

  The fierce commander of th’ Epeian band. 615

  His lance bold Meges at the victor threw;

  The victor stooping, from the death withdrew

  (That valued life, O Phœbus! was thy care),

  But Crœsmus’ bosom took the flying spear:

  His corpse fell bleeding on the slipp’ry shore: 620

  His radiant arms triumphant Meges bore.

  Dolops, the son of Lampus, rushes on,

  Sprung from the race of old Laomedon,

  And famed for prowess in a well-fought field;

  He pierc’d the centre of his sounding shield: 625

  But Meges Phyleus’ ample breast-plate wore

  (Well known in fight on Selles’ winding shore:

  For King Euphetes gave the golden mail,

  Compact, and firm with many a jointed scale),

  Which oft, in cities storm’d, and battles won, 630

  Had saved the father, and now saves the son.

  Full at the Trojan’s head he urged his lance,

  Where the high plumes above the helmet dance,

  New-tinged with Tyrian dye: in dust below,

  Shorn from the crest, the purple honours glow; 635

  Meantime their fight the Spartan King survey’d,

  And stood by Meges’ side, a sudden aid,

  Thro’ Dolops’ shoulder urged his forceful dart,

  Which held its passage thro’ the panting heart,

  And issued at his breast. With thund’ring sound 640

  The warrior falls extended on the ground.

  In rush the conquering Greeks to spoil the slain;

  But Hector’s voice excites his kindred train;

  The hero most from Hicetaon sprung,

  Fierce Melanippus, gallant, brave, and young. 645

  He (e’er to Troy the Grecians cross’d the main)

  Fed his large oxen on Percote’s plain;

  But when oppress’d, his country claim’d his care,

  Return’d to Ilion, and excell’d in war:

  For this in Priam’s court he held his place, 650

  Belov’d no less than Priam’s royal race.

  Him Hector singled, as his troops he led,

  And thus inflamed him, pointing to the dead:

  ‘Lo, Melanippus! lo where Dolops lies;

  And is it thus our royal kinsman dies? 655

  O’ermatch’d he falls; to two at once a prey,

  And lo, they bear the bloody arms away!

  Come on — a distant war no longer wage,

  But hand to hand thy country’s foes engage:

  Till Greece at once, and all her glory, end; 660

  Or Ilion from her tow’ry height descend,

  Heav’d from the lowest stone; and bury all

  In one sad sepulchre, one common fall.’

  Hector (this said) rush’d forward on the foes:

  With equal ardour Melanippus glows: 665

  Then Ajax thus: ‘O Greeks! respect your fame,

  Respect yourselves, and learn an honest shame:

  Let mutual rev’rence mutual warmth inspire,

  And catch from breast to breast the noble fire.

  On valour’s side the odds of combat lie, 670

  The brave live glorious, or lamented die;

  The wretch that trembles in the Field of Fame,

  Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame.’

  His gen’rous sense he not in vain imparts;

  It sunk, and rooted in the Grecian hearts. 675

  They join, they throng, they thicken at his call,

  And flank the navy with a brazen wall;

  Shields touching shields, in order blaze above,

  And stop the Trojans, tho’ impell’d by Jove.

  The fiery Spartan first, with loud applause, 680

  Warms the bold son of Nestor in his cause.

  ‘Is there’ (he said) ‘in arms a youth like you,

  So strong to fight, so active to pursue?

  Why stand you distant, nor attempt a deed?

  Lift the bold lance, and make some Trojan bleed.’ 685

  He said, and backwards to the lines retired;

  Forth rush’d the youth, with martial fury fired,

  Beyond the foremost ranks; his lance he threw

  And round the black battalions cast his view.

  The troops of Troy recede with sudden fear, 690

  While the swift jav’lin hiss’d along in air.

  Advancing Melanippus met the dart

  With his bold breast, and felt it in his heart:

  Thund’ring he falls; his falling arms resound,

  And his broad buckler rings against the ground. 695

  The victor leaps upon his prostrate prize;

  Thus on a roe the well-breathed beagle flies,

  And rends his side, fresh-bleeding with the dart

  The distant hunter sent into his heart.

  Observing Hector to the rescue flew; 700

  Bold as he was, Antilochus withdrew:

  So when a savage, ranging o’er the plain,

  Has torn the shepherd’s dog, or shepherd swain;

  While, conscious of the deed, he glares around,

  And hears the gath’ring multitude resound, 705

  Timely he flies the yet untasted food,

  And gains the friendly shelter of
the wood.

  So fears the youth; all Troy with shouts pursue,

  While stones and darts in mingled tempests flew;

  But, enter’d in the Grecian ranks, he turns 710

  His manly breast, and with new fury burns.

  Now on the fleet the tides of Trojans drove,

  Fierce to fulfil the stern decrees of Jove:

  The Sire of Gods, confirming Thetis’ prayer,

  The Grecian ardour quench’d in deep despair; 715

  But lifts to glory Troy’s prevailing bands,

  Swells all their hearts, and strengthens all their hands.

  On Ida’s top he waits with longing eyes,

  To view the navy blazing to the skies;

  Then, nor till then, the scale of war shall turn, 720

  The Trojans fly, and conquer’d Ilion burn.

  These fates revolv’d in his almighty mind,

  He raises Hector to the work design’d,

  Bids him with more than mortal fury glow,

  And drives him, like a lightning, on the foe. 725

  So Mars, when human crimes for vengeance call,

  Shakes his huge jav’lin, and whole armies fall.

  Not with more rage a conflagration rolls,

  Wraps the vast mountains, and involves the poles.

  He foams with wrath; beneath his gloomy brow 730

  Like fiery meteors his red eye-balls glow:

  The radiant helmet on his temple burns,

  Waves when he nods, and lightens as he turns:

  For Jove his splendour round the Chief had thrown,

  And cast the blaze of both the hosts on one. 735

  Unhappy glories! for his fate was near,

  Due to stern Pallas, and Pelides’ spear:

  Yet Jove deferr’d the death he was to pay,

  And gave what Fate allow’d, the honours of a day!

  Now all on fire for fame, his breast, his eyes 740

  Burn at each foe, and single ev’ry prize;

  Still at the closest ranks, the thickest fight,

  He points his ardour, and exerts his might.

  The Grecian phalanx, moveless as a tower,

  On all sides batter’d, yet resists his power: 745

  So some tall rock o’erhangs the hoary main,

  By winds assail’d, by billows beat in vain;

  Unmov’d it hears, above, the tempest blow,

  And sees the wat’ry mountains break below.

  Girt in surrounding flames, he seems to fall 750

  Like fire from Jove, and bursts upon them all;

  Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends,

  And swell’d with tempests on the ship descends;

  White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud

  Howl o’er the masts, and sing thro’ ev’ry shroud: 755

  Pale, trembling, tired, the sailors freeze with fears;

  And instant death on ev’ry wave appears.

 

‹ Prev