John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series
Page 97
Transfix’d, receiv’d the penetrating Spear.
This Dictys saw; and seiz’d with suddain Fright 455
Leapt headlong from the Hill of steepy height;
And crush’d an Ash beneath, that cou’d not bear his weight.
The shatter’d Tree receives his Fall; and strikes
Within his full-blown Paunch, the sharpen’d Spikes.
Strong Aphareus had heav’d a mighty Stone, 460
The Fragment of a Rock; and wou’d have thrown;
But Theseus with a Club of harden’d Oak,
The Cubit-bone of the bold Centaur broke;
And left him maim’d; nor seconded the Stroke.
Then leapt on tall Bianor’s Back: (Who bore 465
No mortal Burden but his own, before)
Press’d with his Knees his Sides; the double Man,
His Speed with Spurs increas’d, unwilling ran.
One Hand the Hero fasten’d on his Locks;
His other ply’d him with repeated Strokes. 470
The Club rung round his Ears, and batter’d Brows;
He falls; and lashing up his Heels, his Rider throws.
The same Herculean Arms Nedymnus wound;
And lay by him Lycotas on the Ground;
And Hippasus, whose Beard his Breast invades; 475
And Ripheus, haunter of the Woodland Shades:
And Tereus, us’d with Mountain Bears to strive;
And from their Dens to draw th’ indignant Beasts alive.
Demoleon cou’d not bear this hateful Sight,
Or the long Fortune of th’ Athenian Knight: 480
But pull’d with all his Force, to disengage
From Earth a Pine, the Product of an Age:
The Root stuck fast: The broken Trunk he sent
At Theseus: Theseus frustrates his Intent,
And leaps aside, by Pallas warn’d, the Blow 485
To shun: (for so he said; and we believ’d it so.)
Yet not in vain th’ enormous Weight was cast;
Which Crantor’s Body sunder’d at the Waist,
Thy Father’s Squire, Achilles, and his Care;
Whom conquer’d in the Dolopeian War, 490
Their King, his present Ruin to prevent,
A Pledge of Peace implor’d, to Peleus sent.
Thy Sire, with grieving Eyes, beheld his Fate;
And cry’d, Not long, lov’d Crantor, shalt thou wait
Thy vow’d Revenge. At once he said, and threw 495
His Ashen-Spear; which quiver’d as it flew;
With all his Force and all his Soul apply’d;
The sharp Point enter’d in the Centaur’s Side:
Both Hands, to wrench it out, the Monster join’d;
And wrench’d it out; but left the Steel behind. 500
Stuck in his Lungs it stood: Inrag’d he rears
His Hoofs, and down to Ground thy Father bears.
Thus trampled under foot, his Shield defends
His Head; his other Hand the Lance protends.
Ev’n while he lay extended on the Dust, 505
He sped the Centaur, with one single Thrust.
Two more his Lance before transfix’d from far;
And two his Sword had slain in closer War.
To these was added Dorylas: Who spread
A Bull’s two goring Horns around his Head. 510
With these he push’d; in Blood already dy’d:
Him, fearless, I approach’d; and thus defy’d:
Now, Monster, now, by Proof it shall appear,
Whether thy Horns are sharper or my Spear.
At this, I threw: For want of other Ward, 515
He lifted up his Hand, his Front to guard.
His Hand it pass’d: And fix’d it to his Brow:
Loud Shouts of ours attend the lucky Blow.
Him Peleus finish’d, with a second Wound,
Which through the Navel pierc’d: He reel’d around; 520
And drag’d his dangling Bowels on the Ground;
Trod what he drag’d; and what he trod he crush’d:
And to his Mother-Earth, with empty Belly rush’d.
Nor cou’d thy Form, O Cyllarus, foreslow
Thy Fate; (if Form to Monsters Men allow:) 525
Just bloom’d thy Beard, thy Beard of golden Hew:
Thy Locks in golden Waves, about thy Shoulders flew.
Sprightly thy Look: Thy Shapes in ev’ry part
So clean; as might instruct the Sculptor’s Art:
As far as Man extended: Where began 530
The Beast, the Beast was equal to the Man.
Add but a Horses Head and Neck; and he,
O Castor, was a Courser worthy thee.
So was his Back proportion’d for the Seat;
So rose his brawny Chest; so swiftly mov’d his Feet. 535
Coal-black his Colour; but like Jet it shone;
His Legs and flowing Tail were White alone.
Belov’d by many Maidens of his Kind,
But fair Hylonome possess’d his Mind;
Hylonome, for Features, and for Face 540
Excelling all the Nymphs of double Race:
Nor less her Blandishments, than Beauty move;
At once both loving, and confessing Love.
For him she dress’d: For him with female care
She comb’d, and set in Curls, her auborn Hair. 545
Of Roses, Violets, and Lillies mix’d
And Sprigs of flowing Rosemary betwixt
She form’d the Chaplet, that adorn’d her Front:
In Waters of the Pagasæan Fount,
And in the Streams that from the Fountain play, 550
She wash’d her Face; and bath’d her twice a Day.
The Scarf of Furs, that hung below her Side,
Was Ermin, or the Panther’s spotted Pride;
Spoils of no common Beast: With equal Flame
They lov’d: Their Sylvan Pleasures were the same: 555
All Day they hunted; And when Day expir’d,
Together to some shady Cave retir’d:
Invited to the nuptials, both repair:
And Side by Side, they both ingage in War.
Uncertain from what Hand, a flying Dart 560
At Cyllarus was sent; which pierc’d his Heart.
The Javelin drawn from out the mortal Wound,
He faints with staggring Steps; and seeks the Ground:
The Fair within her Arms receiv’d his Fall,
And strove his wandring Spirits to recal: 565
And while her Hand the streaming Blood oppos’d,
Join’d Face to Face, his Lips with hers she clos’d.
Stiffled with Kisses, a sweet Death he dies;
She fills the Fields with undistinguish’d Cries:
At least her Words were in her Clamour drown’d; 570
For my stun’d Ears receiv’d no vocal Sound.
In madness of her Grief, she seiz’d the Dart
New-drawn, and reeking from her Lover’s Heart;
To her bare Bosom the sharp Point apply’d;
And wounded fell; and falling by his Side, 575
Embrac’d him in her Arms; and thus embracing, dy’d.
Ev’n still, methinks, I see Phæocomes;
Strange was his Habit; and as odd his Dress.
Six Lion’s Hides, with Thongs together fast,
His upper part defended to his Waist; 580
And where Man ended, the continued Vest,
Spread on his Back, the Houss and Trappings of a Beast
A Stump too heavy for a Team to draw,
(It seems a Fable, tho’ the Fact I saw;)
He threw at Pholon; the descending Blow 585
Divides the Skull, and cleaves his Head in two.
The Brains, from Nose and Mouth, and either Ear
Came issuing out, as through a Colendar
The curdled Milk; or from the Press the Whey
Driv’n down
by Weights above, is drain’d away. 590
But him, while stooping down to spoil the Slain,
Pierc’d through the Paunch, I tumbled on the Plain.
Then Chthonyus and Teleboas I slew:
A Fork the former arm’d; a Dart his Fellow threw.
The Javelin wounded me; (behold the Skar,) 595
Then was my time to seek the Trojan War;
Then I was Hector’s Match in open Field;
But he was then unborn; at least a Child;
Now, I am nothing. I forbear to tell
By Periphantas how Pyretus fell; 600
The Centaur by the Knight: Now will I stay
On Amphyx, or what Deaths he dealt that Day:
What Honour with a pointless Lance he won,
Stuck in the front of a four-footed Man;
What fame young Macareus obtain’d in Fight: 605
Or dwell on Nessus, now return’d from Flight;
How Prophet Mopsus not alone devin’d,
Whose Valour equall’d his foreseeing Mind.
Already Cæneus, with his conquering Hand,
Had slaughter’d five the boldest of their Band; 610
Pyrachmus, Helymus, Antimachus,
Bromus the Brave, and stronger Stiphelus;
Their Names I number’d, and remember well,
No Trace remaining, by what Wounds they fell.
Latreus, the bulkiest of the double Race, 615
Whom the spoil’d Arms of slain Halesus grace,
In Years retaining still his Youthful Might,
Though his black Hairs were interspers’d with White,
Betwixt th’ imbattled Ranks began to prance,
Proud of his Helm, and Macedonian Lance; 620
And rode the Ring around; that either Hoast
Might hear him, while he made this empty Boast.
And from a Strumpet shall we suffer Shame,
For Cænis still, not Cæneus is thy Name:
And still the Native Softness of thy Kind 625
Prevails; and leaves the Woman in thy Mind?
Remember what thou wert; what price was paid
To change thy Sex: to make thee not a Maid;
And but a Man in shew: go, Card and Spin;
And leave the Business of the War to Men. 630
While thus the Boaster exercis’d his Pride,
The fatal Spear of Cæneus reach’d his Side:
Just in the mixture of the Kinds it ran;
Betwixt the neather Beast, and upper Man:
The Monster mad with Rage, and stung with Smart, 635
His Lance directed at the Hero’s Heart:
It strook: But bounded from his harden’d Breast,
Like Hail from Tiles, which the safe House invest.
Nor seem’d the Stroke with more effect to come,
Than a small Pebble falling on a Drum. 640
He next his Fauchion try’d, in closer Fight;
But the keen Fauchion had no Pow’r to bite.
He thrust; the blunted Point return’d again:
Since downright Blows, he cry’d, and Thrusts are vain,
I’ll prove his Side: In strong Embraces held 645
He prov’d his Side; his Side the Sword repell’d:
His hollow Belly eccho’d to the Stroke;
Untouch’d his Body, as a solid Rock;
Aim’d at his Neck at last, the Blade in Shivers broke.
Th’ Impassive Knight stood Idle, to deride 650
His Rage, and offer’d oft his naked Side:
At length, Now Monster, in thy turn, he cry’d,
Try thou the Strength of Cæneus: At the Word
He thrust; and in his Shoulder plung’d the Sword.
Then writh’d his Hand; and as he drove it down, 655
Deep in his Breast, made many Wounds in one.
The Centaurs saw inrag’d, th’ unhop’d Success;
And rushing on, in Crowds, together press;
At him, and him alone, their Darts they threw:
Repuls’d they from his fated Body flew. 660
Amaz’d they stood; till Monychus began,
O Shame, a Nation conquer’d by a Man!
A Woman-Man; yet more a Man is He,
Than all our Race; and what He was, are We.
Now, what avail our Nerves? The united Force, 665
Of two the strongest Creatures, Man and Horse,
Nor Goddess-born, nor of Ixion’s Seed
We seem; (a Lover built for Juno’s Bed;)
Master’d by this half Man. Whole Mountains throw
With Woods at once, and bury him below. 670
This only way remains. Nor need we doubt
To choak the Soul within; though not to force it out.
Heap Weights, instead of Wounds: He chanc’d to see
Where Southern Storms had rooted up a Tree;
This, raised from Earth, against the Foe he threw; 675
Th’ Example shewn, his Fellow-Brutes pursue.
With Forest-loads the Warrior they invade;
Othrys and Pelion soon were void of Shade;
And spreading Groves were naked Mountains made.
Press’d with the Burden, Cæneus pants for Breath; 680
And on his Shoulders bears the Wooden Death.
To heave th’ intolerable Weight he tries;
At length it rose above his Mouth and Eyes:
Yet still he heaves: And strugling with Despair,
Shakes all aside; and gains a gulp of Air: 685
A short Relief, which but prolongs his Pain;
He faints by Fits; and then respires again:
At last, the Burden only nods above,
As when an Earthquake stirs th’ Idæan Grove.
Doubtful his Death: He suffocated seem’d 690
To most; but otherwise our Mopsus deem’d
Who said he saw a yellow Bird arise
From out the Pile, and cleave the liquid Skies:
I saw it too, with golden feathers bright,
Nor e’re before beheld so strange a Sight. 695
Whom Mopsus viewing, as it soar’d around
Our Troop, and heard the Pinions rattling Sound,
All hail, he cry’d, thy Countries Grace and Love;
Once first of Men below; now first of Birds above.
Its Author to the Story gave Belief: 700
For us, our Courage was increas’d by Grief:
Asham’d to see a single Man, pursu’d
With Odds, to sink beneath a Multitude:
We push’d the Foe; and forc’d to shameful Flight,
Part fell; and part escap’d by favour of the Night. 705
This Tale, by Nestor told, did much displease
Tlepolemus, the Seed of Hercules:
For, often he had heard his Father say,
That he himself was present at the Fray;
And more than shar’d the Glories of the Day. 710
Old Chronicle, he said, among the rest,
You might have nam’d Alcides at the least:
Is he not worth your Praise? The Pylian Prince
Sigh’d ere he spoke; then made this proud Defence.
My former Woes, in long Oblivion drown’d 715
I would have lost; but you renew the Wound:
Better to pass him o’er, than to relate
The Cause I have your mighty Sire to hate.
His Fame has fill’d the World, and reach’d the Sky;
(Which, Oh, I wish, with Truth, I cou’d deny!) 720
We praise not Hector; though his name, we know,
Is great in Arms; ’tis hard to praise a Foe.
He, your Great Father, levell’d to the Ground
Messenia’s Towers: Nor better Fortune found
Elis, and Pylus; that a neighb’ring State 725
And this my own: Both guiltless of their Fate.
To pass the rest, twelve wanting one, he slew,
My Brethren, who their Birth from Neleu
s drew.
All Youths of early Promise, had they liv’d;
By him they perish’d: I alone surviv’d. 730
The rest were easy Conquest: But the Fate
Of Periclymenos is wondrous to relate.
To him our common Grandsire of the Main
Had giv’n to change his Form, and chang’d, resume again.
Vary’d at Pleasure, every Shape he try’d; 735
And in all Beasts Alcides still defy’d:
Vanquish’d on Earth, at length he soar’d above;
Chang’d to the Bird, that bears the Bolt of Jove.
The new-dissembled Eagle, now endu’d
With Beak and Pounces, Hercules pursu’d, 740
And cuff’d his manly Cheeks, and tore his Face;
Then, safe retir’d, and tour’d in empty space.
Alcides bore not long his flying Foe:
But bending his inevitable Bow,
Reach’d him in Air, suspended as he stood; 745
And in his Pinion fix’d the feather’d Wood.
Light was the Wound; but in the Sinew hung
The Point: and his disabled Wing unstrung.
He wheel’d in Air, and stretch’d his Vans in vain;
His Vans no longer cou’d his Flight sustain: 750
For while one gather’d Wind, one unsupply’d
Hung drooping down; nor pois’d his other Side.
He fell: The Shaft that slightly was impress’d,
Now from his heavy Fall with weight increas’d,
Drove through his Neck, aslant; he spurns the Ground, 755
And the Soul issues through the Weazon’s Wound.
Now, brave Commander of the Rhodian Seas,
What Praise is due from me to Hercules?
Silence is all the Vengeance I decree
For my slain Brothers; but ’tis Peace with thee. 760
Thus with a flowing Tongue old Nestor spoke:
Then, to full Bowls each other they provoke:
At length, with Weariness, and Wine oppress’d
They rise from Table; and withdraw to rest.
The Sire of Cygnus, Monarch of the Main, 765
Mean time, laments his Son, in Battle slain:
And vows the Victor’s Death; nor vows in vain.
For nine long Years the smoother’d Pain he bore;
(Achilles was not ripe for Fate, before:)
Then when he saw the promis’d Hour was near, 770
He thus bespoke the God, that guides the Year.
Immortal Offspring of my Brother Jove;
My brightest Nephew, and whom best I love,
Whose Hands were join’d with mine, to raise the Wall
Of tottring Troy, now nodding to her fall; 775
Dost thou not mourn our Pow’r employ’d in vain;
And the Defenders of our City slain?
To pass the rest, cou’d noble Hector lie