Chok’d him; and now had Menelaus won
Deathless renown, dragging him off the field,
But Venus, foam-sprung Goddess, feeling quick
His peril imminent, snapp’d short the brace 445
Though stubborn, by a slaughter’d ox supplied,
And the void helmet follow’d as he pull’d.
079 That prize the Hero, whirling it aloft,
Threw to his Greeks, who caught it and secured,
Then with vindictive strides he rush’d again 450
On Paris, spear in hand; but him involved
In mist opaque Venus with ease divine
Snatch’d thence, and in his chamber placed him, fill’d
With scents odorous, spirit-soothing sweets.
Nor stay’d the Goddess, but at once in quest 455
Of Helen went; her on a lofty tower
She found, where many a damsel stood of Troy,
And twitch’d her fragrant robe. In form she seem’d
An ancient matron, who, while Helen dwelt
In Lacedæmon, her unsullied wool 460
Dress’d for her, faithfullest of all her train.
Like her disguised the Goddess thus began.
Haste — Paris calls thee — on his sculptured couch,
(Sparkling alike his looks and his attire)
He waits thy wish’d return. Thou wouldst not dream 465
That he had fought; he rather seems prepared
For dance, or after dance, for soft repose.
So saying, she tumult raised in Helen’s mind.
Yet soon as by her symmetry of neck,
By her love-kindling breasts and luminous eyes 470
She knew the Goddess, her she thus bespake.
Ah whence, deceitful deity! thy wish
Now to ensnare me? Wouldst thou lure me, say,
To some fair city of Mæonian name
Or Phrygian, more remote from Sparta still? 475
Hast thou some human favorite also there?
Is it because Atrides hath prevailed
To vanquish Paris, and would bear me home
Unworthy as I am, that thou attempt’st
Again to cheat me? Go thyself — sit thou 480
Beside him — for his sake renounce the skies;
Watch him, weep for him; till at length his wife
He deign to make thee, or perchance his slave.
I go not (now to go were shame indeed)
To dress his couch; nor will I be the jest 485
080 Of all my sex in Ilium. Oh! my griefs
Are infinite, and more than I can bear.
To whom, the foam-sprung Goddess, thus incensed.
Ah wretch! provoke not me; lest in my wrath
Abandoning thee, I not hate thee less 490
Than now I fondly love thee, and beget
Such detestation of thee in all hearts,
Grecian and Trojan, that thou die abhorr’d.
The Goddess ceased. Jove’s daughter, Helen, fear’d,
And, in her lucid veil close wrapt around, 495
Silent retired, of all those Trojan dames
Unseen, and Venus led, herself, the way.
Soon then as Alexander’s fair abode
They reach’d, her maidens quick their tasks resumed,
And she to her own chamber lofty-roof’d 500
Ascended, loveliest of her sex. A seat
For Helen, daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d,
To Paris opposite, the Queen of smiles
Herself disposed; but with averted eyes
She sat before him, and him keen reproach’d. 505
Thou hast escaped. — Ah would that thou hadst died
By that heroic arm, mine husband’s erst!
Thou once didst vaunt thee in address and strength
Superior. Go then — challenge yet again
The warlike Menelaüs forth in fight. 510
But hold. The hero of the amber locks
Provoke no more so rashly, lest the point
Of his victorious spear soon stretch thee dead.
She ended, to whom Paris thus replied.
Ah Helen, wound me not with taunt severe! 515
Me, Menelaüs, by Minerva’s aid,
Hath vanquish’d now, who may hereafter, him.
We also have our Gods. But let us love.
For never since the day when thee I bore
From pleasant Lacedæmon o’er the waves 520
To Cranäe’s fair isle, and first enjoy’d
Thy beauty, loved I as I love thee now,
Or felt such sweetness of intense desire.
081 He spake, and sought his bed, whom follow’d soon
Jove’s daughter, reconciled to his embrace. 525
But Menelaüs like a lion ranged
The multitude, inquiring far and near
For Paris lost. Yet neither Trojan him
Nor friend of Troy could show, whom, else, through love
None had conceal’d, for him as death itself 530
All hated, but his going none had seen.
Amidst them all then spake the King of men.
Trojans, and Dardans, and allies of Troy!
The warlike Menelaüs hath prevailed,
As is most plain. Now therefore bring ye forth 535
Helen with all her treasures, also bring
Such large amercement as is meet, a sum
To be remember’d in all future times.
So spake Atrides, and Achaia’s host
With loud applause confirm’d the monarch’s claim. 540
ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH BOOK.
In a Council of the Gods, a dispute arises between Jupiter and Juno, which is at last compromised, Jove consenting to dispatch Minerva with a charge to incite some Trojan to a violation of the truce. Minerva descends for that purpose, and in the form of Laodocus, a son of Priam, exhorts Pandarus to shoot at Menelaus, and succeeds. Menelaus is wounded, and Agamemnon having consigned him to the care of Machaon, goes forth to perform the duties of commander-in-chief, in the encouragement of his host to battle. The battle begins.
BOOK IV.
Now, on the golden floor of Jove’s abode
The Gods all sat consulting; Hebe them,
Graceful, with nectar served; they pledging each
His next, alternate quaff’d from cups of gold,
And at their ease reclined, look’d down on Troy, 5
When, sudden, Jove essay’d by piercing speech
Invidious, to enkindle Juno’s ire.
Two Goddesses on Menelaus’ part
Confederate stand, Juno in Argos known,
Pallas in Alalcomene; yet they 10
Sequester’d sit, look on, and are amused.
Not so smile-loving Venus; she, beside
Her champion station’d, saves him from his fate,
And at this moment, by her aid, he lives.
But now, since victory hath proved the lot 15
Of warlike Menelaus, weigh ye well
The matter; shall we yet the ruinous strife
Prolong between the nations, or consent
To give them peace? should peace your preference win,
And prove alike acceptable to all, 20
Stand Ilium, and let Menelaus bear
Helen of Argos back to Greece again.
086 He ended; Juno and Minerva heard,
Low-murmuring deep disgust; for side by side
They forging sat calamity to Troy. 25
Minerva through displeasure against Jove
Nought utter’d, for with rage her bosom boil’d;
But Juno check’d not hers, who thus replied.
What word hath pass’d thy lips, Jove most severe!
How? wouldst thou render fruitless all my pains? 30
The sweat that I have pour’d? my steeds themselves
Have fainted while I gather’d Greece in arms
For punishment of Priam and his sons.
Do
it. But small thy praise shall be in heaven.
Then her the Thunderer answer’d sore displeased. 35
Ah shameless! how have Priam and his sons
So much transgress’d against thee, that thou burn’st
With ceaseless rage to ruin populous Troy?
Go, make thine entrance at her lofty gates,
Priam and all his house, and all his host 40
Alive devour; then, haply, thou wilt rest;
Do even as thou wilt, that this dispute
Live not between us a consuming fire
For ever. But attend; mark well the word.
When I shall also doom in future time 45
Some city to destruction, dear to thee,
Oppose me not, but give my fury way
As I give way to thine, not pleased myself,
Yet not unsatisfied, so thou be pleased.
For of all cities of the sons of men, 50
And which the sun and stars from heaven behold,
Me sacred Troy most pleases, Priam me
Most, and the people of the warrior King.
Nor without cause. They feed mine altar well;
Libation there, and steam of savory scent 55
Fail not, the tribute which by lot is ours.
Him answer’d, then, the Goddess ample-eyed,
Majestic Juno: Three fair cities me,
087 Of all the earth, most interest and engage,
Mycenæ for magnificence renown’d, 60
Argos, and Sparta. Them, when next thy wrath
Shall be inflamed against them, lay thou waste;
I will not interpose on their behalf;
Thou shalt not hear me murmur; what avail
Complaint or force against thy matchless arm? 65
Yet were it most unmeet that even I
Should toil in vain; I also boast a birth
Celestial; Saturn deeply wise, thy Sire,
Is also mine; our origin is one.
Thee I acknowledge Sovereign, yet account 70
Myself entitled by a twofold claim
To veneration both from Gods and men,
The daughter of Jove’s sire, and spouse of Jove.
Concession mutual therefore both thyself
Befits and me, whom when the Gods perceive 75
Disposed to peace, they also shall accord.
Come then. — To yon dread field dispatch in haste
Minerva, with command that she incite
The Trojans first to violate their oath
By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks. 80
So Juno; nor the sire of all refused,
But in wing’d accents thus to Pallas spake.
Begone; swift fly to yonder field; incite
The Trojans first to violate their oath
By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks. 85
The Goddess heard, and what she wish’d, enjoin’d,
Down-darted swift from the Olympian heights,
In form a meteor, such as from his hand
Not seldom Jove dismisses, beaming bright
And breaking into stars, an omen sent 90
To mariners, or to some numerous host.
Such Pallas seem’d, and swift descending, dropp’d
Full in the midst between them. They with awe
That sign portentous and with wonder view’d,
Achaians both and Trojans, and his next 95
The soldier thus bespake. Now either war
088 And dire hostility again shall flame,
Or Jove now gives us peace. Both are from Jove.
So spake the soldiery; but she the form
Taking of brave Laodocus, the son 100
Of old Antenor, throughout all the ranks
Sought godlike Pandarus. Ere long she found
The valiant son illustrious of Lycaon,
Standing encompass’d by his dauntless troops,
Broad-shielded warriors, from Æsepus’ stream 105
His followers; to his side the Goddess came,
And in wing’d accents ardent him bespake.
Brave offspring of Lycaon, is there hope
That thou wilt hear my counsel? darest thou slip
A shaft at Menelaus? much renown 110
Thou shalt and thanks from all the Trojans win,
But most of all, from Paris, prince of Troy.
From him illustrious gifts thou shalt receive
Doubtless, when Menelaus he shall see
The martial son of Atreus by a shaft 115
Subdued of thine, placed on his funeral pile.
Come. Shoot at Menelaus, glorious Chief!
But vow to Lycian Phœbus bow-renown’d
A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock,
To fair Zeleia’s walls once safe restored. 120
So Pallas spake, to whom infatuate he
Listening, uncased at once his polished bow.
089 That bow, the laden brows of a wild goat
Salacious had supplied; him on a day
Forth-issuing from his cave, in ambush placed 125
He wounded with an arrow to his breast
Dispatch’d, and on the rock supine he fell.
Each horn had from his head tall growth attain’d,
Full sixteen palms; them shaven smooth the smith
Had aptly join’d, and tipt their points with gold. 130
That bow he strung, then, stooping, planted firm
The nether horn, his comrades bold the while
Screening him close with shields, lest ere the prince
Were stricken, Menelaus brave in arms,
The Greeks with fierce assault should interpose. 135
He raised his quiver’s lid; he chose a dart
Unflown, full-fledged, and barb’d with pangs of death.
He lodged in haste the arrow on the string,
And vow’d to Lycian Phœbus bow-renown’d
A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock, 140
To fair Zeleia’s walls once safe restored.
Compressing next nerve and notch’d arrow-head
He drew back both together, to his pap
Drew home the nerve, the barb home to his bow,
And when the horn was curved to a wide arch, 145
He twang’d it. Whizz’d the bowstring, and the reed
Leap’d off, impatient for the distant throng.
Thee, Menelaus, then the blessed Gods
Forgat not; Pallas huntress of the spoil,
Thy guardian then, baffled the cruel dart. 150
Far as a mother wafts the fly aside
090 That haunts her slumbering babe, so far she drove
Its course aslant, directing it herself
Against the golden clasps that join’d his belt;
For there the doubled hauberk interposed. 155
The bitter arrow plunged into his belt.
It pierced his broider’d belt, stood fixt within
His twisted hauberk, nor the interior quilt,
Though penetrable least to arrow-points
And his best guard, withheld it, but it pass’d 160
That also, and the Hero’s skin inscribed.
Quick flowed a sable current from the wound.
As when a Carian or Mæonian maid
Impurples ivory ordain’d to grace
The cheek of martial steed; safe stored it lies, 165
By many a Chief desired, but proves at last
The stately trapping of some prince, the pride
Of his high pamper’d steed, nor less his own;
Such, Menelaus, seem’d thy shapely thighs,
Thy legs, thy feet, stained with thy trickling blood. 170
Shudder’d King Agamemnon when he saw
The blood fast trickling from the wound, nor less
Shudder’d himself the bleeding warrior bold.
But neck and barb observing from the flesh
Extant, he gather’d heart, and lived again. 175
The royal Agamemnon, sighing, grasp’d
The hand of Menelaus, and while all
Their followers sigh’d around them, thus began.
091 I swore thy death, my brother, when I swore
This truce, and set thee forth in sight of Greeks 180
And Trojans, our sole champion; for the foe
Hath trodden underfoot his sacred oath,
And stained it with thy blood. But not in vain,
The truce was ratified, the blood of lambs
Poured forth, libation made, and right hands join’d 185
In holy confidence. The wrath of Jove
May sleep, but will not always; they shall pay
Dear penalty; their own obnoxious heads
Shall be the mulct, their children and their wives.
For this I know, know surely; that a day 190
Shall come, when Ilium, when the warlike King
Of Ilium and his host shall perish all.
Saturnian Jove high-throned, dwelling in heaven,
Resentful of this outrage, then shall shake
His storm-clad Ægis over them. He will; 195
I speak no fable. Time shall prove me true.
But, oh my Menelaus, dire distress
Awaits me, if thy close of life be come,
And thou must die. Then ignominy foul
Shall hunt me back to Argos long-desired; 200
For then all here will recollect their home,
And, hope abandoning, will Helen yield
To be the boast of Priam, and of Troy.
So shall our toils be vain, and while thy bones
Shall waste these clods beneath, Troy’s haughty sons 205
The tomb of Menelaus glory-crown’d
Insulting barbarous, shall scoff at me.
So may Atrides, shall they say, perform
His anger still as he performed it here,
Whither he led an unsuccessful host, 210
Whence he hath sail’d again without the spoils,
And where he left his brother’s bones to rot.
So shall the Trojan speak; then open earth
092 Her mouth, and hide me in her deepest gulfs!
But him, the hero of the golden locks 215
Thus cheer’d. My brother, fear not, nor infect
With fear the Grecians; the sharp-pointed reed
Hath touch’d no vital part. The broider’d zone,
The hauberk, and the tough interior quilt,
William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works Page 94