As when the winds, ascending by degrees,
First move the whit’ning surface of the seas,
480 The billows float in order to the shore,
The wave behind rolls on the wave before;
Till, with the growing storm, the deeps arise,
Foam o’er the rocks, and thunder to the skies.
So to the fight the thick battalions throng,
Shields urged on shields, and men drove men along.
Sedate and silent move the num’rous bands;
No sound, no whisper, but the chief’s commands,
Those only heard; with awe the rest obey
As if some god had snatched their voice away.
490 Not so the Trojans; from their host ascends
A general shout that all the region rends.
As when the fleecy flocks unnumbered stand
In wealthy folds, and wait the milker’s hand,
The hollow vales incessant bleating fills,
The lambs reply from all the neighb’ring hills:
Such clamours rose from various nations round,
Mixed was the murmur, and confused the sound.
Each host now joins, and each a god inspires:
These Mars incites, and those Minerva fires.
500 Pale Flight around, and dreadful Terror reign;
And Discord raging bathes the purple plain:
Discord! dire sister of the slaught’ring pow’r,
Small at her birth, but rising ev’ry hour,
While scarce the skies her horrid head can bound,
She stalks on earth, and shakes the world around;
The nations bleed where’er her steps she turns,
The groan still deepens, and the combat burns.
Now shield with shield, with helmet helmet closed,
To armour armour, lance to lance opposed,
510 Host against host with shadowy squadrons drew,
The sounding darts in iron tempests slew,
Victors and vanquished join promiscuous cries,
And shrilling shouts and dying groans arise;
With streaming blood the slipp’ry fields are dyed,
And slaughtered heroes swell the dreadful tide.
As torrents roll, increased by numerous rills,
With rage impetuous down their echoing hills
Rush to the vales, and poured along the plain
Roar through a thousand channels to the main;
520 The distant shepherd trembling hears the sound:
So mix both hosts, and so their cries rebound.
The bold Antilochus the slaughter led,
The first who struck a valiant Trojan dead;
At great Echepolus the lance arrives,
Razed his high crest, and through his helmet drives.
Warmed in the brain the brazen weapon lies,
And shades eternal settle o’er his eyes;
So sinks a tow’r, that long assaults had stood
Of force and fire, its walls besmeared with blood.
530 Him, the bold leader of the Abantian throng
Seized to despoil, and dragged the corpse along,
But while he strove to tug th’ inserted dart,
Agenor’s jav’lin reached the hero’s heart.
His flank, unguarded by his ample shield,
Admits the lance: he falls, and spurns the field;
The nerves unbraced support his limbs no more;
The soul comes floating in a tide of gore.
Trojans and Greeks now gather round the slain;
The war renews, the warriors bleed again;
540 As o’er their prey rapacious wolves engage,
Man dies on man, and all is blood and rage.
In blooming youth fair Simoïsius fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell;
Fair Simoïsius, whom his mother bore
Amid the flocks on silver Simois’ shore:
The nymph descending from the hills of Ide,
To seek her parents on his flow’ry side,
Brought forth the babe, their common care and joy,
And thence from Simois named the lovely boy.
550 Short was his date! by dreadful Ajax slain
He falls, and renders all their cares in vain!
So falls a poplar, that in wat’ry ground
Raised high the head, with stately branches crowned
(Felled by some artist with his shining steel,
To shape the circle of the bending wheel),
Cut down it lies, tall, smooth, and largely spread,
With all its beauteous honours on its head;
There, left a subject to the wind and rain
And scorched by suns, it withers on the plain.
560 Thus pierced by Ajax, Simoïsius lies
Stretched on the shore, and thus neglected dies.
At Ajax, Antiphus his jav’lin threw;
The pointed lance with erring fury flew,
And Leucus, loved by wise Ulysses, slew.
He drops the corse of Simoïsius slain,
And sinks a breathless carcass on the plain.
This saw Ulysses, and with grief enraged
Strode where the foremost of the foes engaged;
Armed with his spear, he meditates the wound,
570 In act to throw; but cautious, looked around.
Struck at his sight, the Trojans backward drew,
And trembling heard the jav’lin as it flew.
A chief stood nigh, who from Abydos came,
Old Priam’s son, Democoön was his name.
The weapon entered close above his ear,
Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear.
With piercing shrieks the youth resigns his breath;
His eyeballs darken with the shades of death;
Pond’rous he falls: his clanging arms resound,
580 And his broad buckler rings against the ground.
[The council of deities, Book VIII]
Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn,
Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn,
When Jove convened the senate of the skies,
Where high Olympus’ cloudy tops arise.
The sire of gods his awful silence broke;
The heav’ns attentive trembled as he spoke:
‘Celestial states, immortal gods! give ear,
Hear our decree, and rev’rence what ye hear,
The fixed decree which not all heav’n can move;
10 Thou fate! fulfil it! and ye powers! approve.
What god but enters yon forbidden field,
Who yields assistance, or but wills to yield,
Back to the skies with shame he shall be driv’n,
Gashed with dishonest wounds, the scorn of heav’n.
Or far, oh far from steep Olympus thrown,
Low in the dark Tartarean gulf shall groan,
With burning chains fixed to the brazen floors,
And locked by hell’s inexorable doors;
As deep beneath th’ infernal centre hurled,
20 As from that centre to th’ ethereal world.
Let him who tempts me dread those dire abodes,
And know, th’ Almighty is the god of gods.
League all your forces then, ye pow’rs above,
Join all, and try th’ omnipotence of Jove.
Let down our golden everlasting chain
Whose strong embrace holds heav’n, and earth, and main;
Strive all, of mortal and immortal birth,
To drag, by this, the Thund’rer down to earth.
Ye strive in vain! if I but stretch this hand,
30 I heave the gods, the ocean, and the land;
I fix the chain to great Olympus’ height,
And the vast world hangs trembling in my sight!
For such I reign, unbounded and above;
And such are men, and gods, compared to Jove.’
Th’ Almighty spoke, nor durst the pow’rs reply
:
A rev’rend horror silenced all the sky;
Trembling they stood before their sov’reign’s look.
At length his best-belov’d, the power of Wisdom, spoke:
‘O first and greatest! God by gods adored!
40 We own thy might, our father and our lord!
But ah! permit to pity human state:
If not to help, at least lament their fate.
From fields forbidden we submiss refrain,
With arms unaiding mourn our Argives slain;
Yet grant my counsels still their breasts may move,
Or all must perish in the wrath of Jove.’
The cloud-compelling god her suit approved,
And smiled superior on his best belov’d;
Then called his coursers, and his chariot took;
50 The steadfast firmament beneath them shook.
Rapt by th’ ethereal steeds the chariot rolled;
Brass were their hoofs, their curling manes of gold.
Of heav’n’s undrossy gold, the god’s array,
Refulgent, flashed intolerable day.
High on the throne he shines; his coursers fly
Between th’ extended earth and starry sky.
But when to Ida’s topmost height he came
(Fair nurse of fountains, and of savage game),
Where o’er her pointed summits proudly raised,
60 His fane breathed odours, and his altar blazed:
There, from his radiant car, the sacred sire
Of gods and men released the steeds of fire.
Blue ambient mists th’ immortal steeds embraced;
High on the cloudy point his seat he placed.
Thence his broad eye the subject world surveys,
The town, and tents, and navigable seas.
[Sarpedon’s speech, Book XII]
Thus godlike Hector and his troops contend
To force the ramparts, and the gates to rend,
Nor Troy could conquer, nor the Greeks would yield,
Till great Sarpedon towered amid the field;
For mighty Jove inspired with martial flame
350 His matchless son, and urged him on to fame.
In arms he shines, conspicuous from afar,
And bears aloft his ample shield in air,
Within whose orb the thick bull-hides were rolled,
Pond’rous with brass, and bound with ductile gold,
And while two pointed jav’lins arm his hands,
Majestic moves along, and leads his Lycian bands.
So pressed with hunger, from the mountain’s brow
Descends a lion on the flocks below;
So stalks the lordly savage o’er the plain
360 In sullen majesty, and stern disdain.
In vain loud mastiffs bay him from afar,
And shepherds gall him with an iron war;
Regardless, furious, he pursues his way;
He foams, he roars, he rends the panting prey.
Resolved alike, divine Sarpedon glows
With gen’rous rage that drives him on the foes.
He views the tow’rs, and meditates their fall,
To sure destruction dooms th’ aspiring wall;
Then casting on his friend an ardent look,
370 Fired with the thirst of glory, thus he spoke:
‘Why boast we, Glaucus! our extended reign,
Where Xanthus’ streams enrich the Lycian plain,
Our num’rous herds that range the fruitful field,
And hills where vines their purple harvest yield,
Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crowned,
Our feasts enhanced with music’s sprightly sound?
Why on those shores are we with joy surveyed,
Admired as heroes, and as gods obeyed?
Unless great acts superior merit prove
380 And vindicate the bounteous pow’rs above.
’Tis ours, the dignity they give, to grace;
The first in valour, as the first in place;
That when with wond’ring eyes our martial bands
Behold our deeds transcending our commands,
“Such,” they may cry, “deserve the sov’reign state,
Whom those that envy dare not imitate!”
Could all our care elude the gloomy grave,
Which claims no less the fearful than the brave,
For lust of fame I should not vainly dare
390 In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war.
But since, alas! ignoble age must come,
Disease, and death’s inexorable doom,
The life which others pay, let us bestow,
And give to fame what we to nature owe;
Brave though we fall, and honoured if we live,
Or let us glory gain, or glory give!’
He said; his words the list’ning chief inspire
With equal warmth, and rouse the warrior’s fire;
The troops pursue their leaders with delight,
400 Rush to the foe, and claim the promised fight.
[Vulcan forges the shield of Achilles, Book XVIII]
Then from his anvil the lame artist rose;
480 Wide with distorted legs, oblique he goes,
And stills the bellows, and (in order laid)
Locks in their chest his instruments of trade.
Then with a sponge the sooty workman dressed
His brawny arms embrowned, and hairy breast;
With his huge sceptre graced, and red attire,
Came halting forth the sov’reign of the fire.
The monarch’s steps two female forms uphold,
That moved, and breathed, in animated gold;
To whom was voice, and sense, and science given
490 Of works divine (such wonders are in heav’n!).
On these supported, with unequal gait,
He reached the throne where pensive Thetis sate;
There, placed beside her on the shining frame,
He thus addressed the silver-footed dame:
‘Thee welcome, goddess! what occasion calls
(So long a stranger) to these honoured walls?
’Tis thine, fair Thetis, the command to lay,
And Vulcan’s joy, and duty, to obey.’
To whom the mournful mother thus replies
500 (The crystal drops stood trembling in her eyes),
‘Oh Vulcan! say, was ever breast divine
So pierced with sorrows, so o’erwhelmed as mine?
Of all the goddesses, did Jove prepare
For Thetis only such a weight of care?
I, only I, of all the wat’ry race
By force subjected to a man’s embrace,
Who, sinking now with age and sorrow, pays
The mighty fine imposed on length of days.
Sprung from my bed, a godlike hero came,
510 The bravest sure that ever bore the name;
Like some fair plant beneath my careful hand
He grew, he flourished, and he graced the land.
To Troy I sent him! but his native shore
Never, ah never, shall receive him more;
(Ev’n while he lives, he wastes with secret woe)
Nor I, a goddess, can retard the blow!
Robbed of the prize the Grecian suffrage gave,
The king of nations forced his royal slave;
For this he grieved, and, till the Greeks oppressed
520 Required his arm, he sorrowed unredressed.
Large gifts they promise, and their elders send;
In vain – he arms not, but permits his friend
His arms, his steeds, his forces to employ;
He marches, combats, almost conquers Troy;
Then slain by Phoebus (Hector had the name)
At once resigns his armour, life, and fame.
But thou, in pity, by my pray’r be won:
Grace with immortal arms this short-lived son,
And
to the field in martial pomp restore,
530 To shine with glory, till he shines no more!’
To her the artist-god: ‘Thy griefs resign,
Secure, what Vulcan can, is ever thine.
O could I hide him from the Fates as well,
Or with these hands the cruel stroke repel,
As I shall forge most envied arms, the gaze
Of wond’ring ages, and the world’s amaze!’
Thus having said, the father of the fires
To the black labours of his forge retires.
Soon as he bade them blow, the bellows turned
540 Their iron mouths, and where the furnace burned
Resounding breathed: at once the blast expires,
And twenty forges catch at once the fires;
Just as the god directs, now loud, now low,
They raise a tempest, or they gently blow.
In hissing flames huge silver bars are rolled,
And stubborn brass, and tin, and solid gold;
Before, deep fixed, th’ eternal anvils stand,
The pond’rous hammer loads his better hand,
His left with tongs turns the vexed metal round,
550 And thick, strong strokes the doubling vaults rebound.
Then first he formed th’ immense and solid shield;
Rich, various artifice emblazed the field;
Its utmost verge a threefold circle bound;
A silver chain suspends the massy round;
Five ample plates the broad expanse compose,
And godlike labours on the surface rose.
There shone the image of the master-mind:
There earth, there heav’n, there ocean he designed;
Th’ unwearied sun, the moon completely round;
560 The starry lights that heav’n’s high convex crowned;
The Pleiads, Hyads, with the northern team,
And great Orion’s more refulgent beam,
To which, around the axle of the sky,
The Bear revolving, points his golden eye,
Still shines exalted on th’ ethereal plain,
Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main.
Two cities radiant on the shield appear,
The image one of peace, and one of war.
Here sacred pomp and genial feast delight,
570 And solemn dance, and hymeneal rite;
Along the street the new-made brides are led
With torches flaming, to the nuptial bed;
The youthful dancers in a circle bound
To the soft flute, and cithern’s silver sound,
The Rape of the Lock and Other Major Writings: Poems and Other Writings (Penguin Classics) Page 12
