The day shall come, the great avenging day,
Which Troy’s proud glories in the dust shall lay,
When Priam’s powers and Priam’s self shall fall,
And one prodigious ruin swallow all.
I see the God, already, from the pole, 200
Bare his red arm, and bid the thunder roll;
I see th’ Eternal all his fury shed,
And shake his ægis o’er their guilty head.
Such mighty woes on perjured Princes wait;
But thou, alas! deserv’st a happier fate. 205
Still must I mourn the period of thy days,
And only mourn, without my share of praise?
Deprived of thee, the heartless Greeks no more
Shall dream of conquests on the hostile shore;
Troy seized of Helen, and our glory lost, 210
Thy bones shall moulder on a foreign coast:
While some proud Trojan thus insulting cries
(And spurns the dust where Menelaus lies):
“Such are the trophies Greece from Ilion brings,
And such the conquest of her King of Kings! 215
Lo his proud vessels scatter’d o’er the main,
And unrevenged his mighty brother slain.”
Oh, ere that dire disgrace shall blast my fame,
O’erwhelm me, earth! and hide a monarch’s shame.’
He said: a leader’s and a brother’s fears 220
Possess his soul, which thus the Spartan cheers:
‘Let not thy words the warmth of Greece abate;
The feeble dart is guiltless of my fate:
Stiff with the rich embroider’d work around,
My varied belt repell’d the flying wound.’ 225
To whom the King: ‘My brother and my friend,
Thus, always thus, may Heav’n thy life defend!
Now seek some skilful hand, whose powerful art
May stanch th’ effusion, and extract the dart.
Herald, be swift, and bid Machaon bring 230
His speedy succour to the Spartan King;
Pierced with a winged shaft (the deed of Troy),
The Grecian’s sorrow and the Dardan’s joy.’
With hasty zeal the swift Talthybius flies;
Thro’ the thick files he darts his searching eyes, 235
And finds Machaon, where sublime he stands
In arms encircled with his native bands.
Then thus: ‘Machaon, to the King repair,
His wounded brother claims thy timely care;
Pierced by some Lycian or Dardanian bow, 240
A grief to us, a triumph to the foe.’
The heavy tidings grieved the godlike man;
Swift to his succour through the ranks he ran:
The dauntless King yet standing firm he found,
And all the Chiefs in deep concern around. 245
Where to the steely point the reed was join’d,
The shaft he drew, but left the head behind.
Straight the broad belt, with gay embroid’ry graced,
He loosed: the corslet from his breast unbraced;
Then suck’d the blood, and sov’reign balm infused, 250
Which Chiron gave, and Æsculapius used.
While round the Prince the Greeks employ their care,
The Trojans rush tumultuous to the war;
Once more they glitter in refulgent arms,
Once more the fields are fill’d with dire alarms. 255
Nor had you seen the King of Men appear
Confused, inactive, or surprised with fear;
But fond of glory, with severe delight,
His beating bosom claim’d the rising fight.
No longer with his warlike steeds he stay’d, 260
Or press’d the car with polish’d brass inlaid,
But left Eurymedon the reins to guide;
The fiery coursers snorted at his side.
On foot thro’ all the martial ranks he moves,
And these encourages, and those reproves. 265
‘Brave men!’ he cries (to such who boldly dare
Urge their swift steeds to face the coming war),
‘Your ancient valour on the foes approve;
Jove is with Greece, and let us trust in Jove.
‘T is not for us, but guilty Troy, to dread, 270
Whose crimes sit heavy on her perjured head:
Her sons and matrons Greece shall lead in chains,
And her dread warriors strew the mournful plains.’
Thus with new ardour he the brave inspires;
Or thus the fearful with reproaches fires: 275
‘Shame to your country, scandal of your kind!
Born to the fate ye well deserve to find;
Why stand ye gazing round the dreadful plain,
Prepared for flight, but doom’d to fly in vain?
Confused and panting, thus the hunted deer 280
Falls as he flies, a victim to his fear.
Still must ye wait the foes, and still retire,
Till yon tall vessels blaze with Trojan fire?
Or trust ye, Jove a valiant foe shall chase,
To save a trembling, heartless, dastard race?’ 285
This said, he stalk’d with ample strides along,
To Crete’s brave monarch and his martial throng;
High at their head he saw the Chief appear,
And bold Meriones excite the rear.
At this the King his gen’rous joy express’d, 290
And clasp’d the warrior to his armèd breast:
‘Divine Idomeneus! what thanks we owe
To worth like thine? what praise shall we bestow?
To thee the foremost honours are decreed,
First in the fight, and ev’ry graceful deed. 295
For this, in banquets, when the gen’rous bowls
Restore our blood, and raise the warriors’ souls,
Tho’ all the rest with stated rules we bound,
Unmix’d, unmeasured are thy goblets crown’d.
Be still thyself; in arms a mighty name; 300
Maintain thy honours, and enlarge thy fame.’
To whom the Cretan thus his speech address’d:
‘Secure of me, O King! exhort the rest:
Fix’d to thy side, in ev’ry toil I share,
Thy firm associate in the day of war. 305
But let the signal be this moment giv’n;
To mix in fight is all I ask of Heav’n.
The field shall prove how perjuries succeed,
And chains or death avenge their impious deed.’
Charm’d with this heat, the King his course pursues, 310
And next the troops of either Ajax views:
In one firm orb the bands were ranged around,
A cloud of heroes blacken’d all the ground.
Thus from the lofty promontory’s brow
A swain surveys the gath’ring storm below; 315
Slow from the main the heavy vapours rise,
Spread in dim streams, and sail along the skies,
Till black as night the swelling tempest shews,
The cloud condensing as the west-wind blows:
He dreads th’ impending storm, and drives his flock 320
To the close covert of an arching rock.
Such, and so thick, th’ embattled squadrons stood,
With spears erect, a moving iron wood;
A shady light was shot from glimm’ring shields,
And their brown arms obscured the dusky fields. 325
‘O Heroes! worthy such a dauntless train,
Whose godlike virtue we but urge in vain’
(Exclaim’d the King), ‘who raise your eager bands
With great examples, more than loud commands.
Ah would the Gods but breathe in all the rest 330
Such souls as burn in your exalted breast!
Soon should our arms with just success be crown’d,
And T
roy’s proud walls lie smoking on the ground.’
Then to the next the gen’ral bends his course
(His heart exults, and glories in his force); 335
There rev’rend Nestor ranks his Pylian bands,
And with inspiring eloquence commands;
With strictest order sets his train in arms,
The Chiefs advises, and the soldiers warms.
Alastor, Chromius, Hæmon, round him wait, 340
Bias the good, and Pelagon the great.
The horse and chariots to the front assign’d,
The foot (the strength of war) he ranged behind:
The middle space suspected troops supply,
Enclosed by both, nor left the power to fly: 345
He gives command to curb the fiery steed,
Nor cause confusion, nor the ranks exceed:
‘Before the rest let none too rashly ride;
No strength nor skill, but just in time, be tried:
The charge once made, no warrior turn the rein, 350
But fight, or fall; a firm, embodied train.
He whom the fortune of the field shall cast
From forth his chariot, mount the next in haste;
Nor seek unpractis’d to direct the car,
Content with jav’lins to provoke the war. 355
Our great forefathers held this prudent course,
Thus ruled their ardour, thus preserv’d their force,
By laws like these immortal conquests made,
And earth’s proud tyrants low in ashes laid.’
So spoke the master of the martial art, 360
And touch’d with transport great Atrides’ heart.
‘Oh! hadst thou strength to match thy brave desires,
And nerves to second what thy soul inspires!
But wasting years that wither human race,
Exhaust thy spirits, and thy arms unbrace. 365
What once thou wert, oh ever might’st thou be!
And age the lot of any Chief but thee.’
Thus to th’ experienc’d Prince Atrides cried;
He shook his hoary locks, and thus replied:
‘Well might I wish, could mortal wish renew 370
That strength which once in boiling youth I knew;
Such as I was, when Ereuthalion slain
Beneath this arm fell prostrate on the plain.
But Heav’n its gifts not all at once bestows,
These years with wisdom crowns, with action those: 375
The field of combat fits the young and bold,
The solemn council best becomes the old:
To you the glorious conflict I resign,
Let sage advice, the palm of age, be mine.’
He said. With joy the Monarch march’d before 380
And found Menestheus on the dusty shore,
With whom the firm Athenian phalanx stands;
And next Ulysses, with his subject bands.
Remote their forces lay, nor knew so far
The peace infringed, nor heard the sounds of war; 385
The tumult late begun, they stood intent
To watch the motion, dubious of th’ event.
The King, who saw their squadrons yet unmov’d,
With hasty ardour thus the Chiefs reprov’d:
‘Can Peteus’ son forget a warrior’s part, 390
And fears Ulysses, skill’d in every art?
Why stand you distant, and the rest expect
To mix in combat which yourselves neglect?
From you ‘t was hoped among the first to dare
The shock of armies, and commence the war. 395
For this your names are call’d before the rest,
To share the pleasures of the genial feast:
And can you, Chiefs! without a blush survey
Whole troops before you lab’ring in the fray?
Say, is it thus those honours you requite? 400
The first in banquets, but the last in fight.’
Ulysses heard: the hero’s warmth o’erspread
His cheek with blushes; and, severe, he said:
‘Take back th’ unjust reproach! Behold we stand
Sheathed in bright arms, and but expect command. 405
If glorious deeds afford thy soul delight,
Behold me plunging in the thickest fight.
Then give thy warrior-chief a warrior’s due,
Who dares to act whate’er thou darest to view.’
Struck with his gen’rous wrath, the King replies: 410
‘Oh great in action, and in council wise!
With ours, thy care and ardour are the same,
Nor need I to command, nor ought to blame.
Sage as thou art, and learn’d in human kind,
Forgive the transport of a martial mind. 415
Haste to the fight, secure of just amends;
The Gods that make shall keep the worthy friends.’
He said, and pass’d where great Tydides lay,
His steeds and chariots wedg’d in firm array
(The warlike Sthenelus attends his side); 420
To whom with stern reproach the Monarch cried:
‘Oh son of Tydeus’ (he whose strength could tame
The bounding steed, in arms a mighty name),
‘Canst thou, remote, the mingling hosts decry,
With hands inactive, and a careless eye? 425
Not thus thy sire the fierce encounter fear’d;
Still first in front the matchless Prince appear’d:
What glorious toils, what wonders they recite,
Who view’d him lab’ring thro’ the ranks of fight!
I saw him once, when, gath’ring martial powers, 430
A peaceful guest he sought Mycenæ’s towers;
Armies he ask’d, and armies had been giv’n,
Not we denied, but Jove forbade from Heav’n;
While dreadful comets glaring from afar
Forewarn’d the horrors of the Theban war. 435
Next, sent by Greece from where Asopus flows,
A fearless envoy, he approach’d the foes;
Thebes’ hostile walls, unguarded and alone,
Dauntless he enters and demands the throne.
The tyrant, feasting with his Chiefs he found, 440
And dared to combat all those Chiefs around;
Dared and subdued, before their haughty lord;
For Pallas strung his arm, and edg’d his sword.
Stung with the shame, within the winding way,
To bar his passage fifty warriors lay; 445
Two heroes led the secret squadron on,
Mæon the fierce, and hardy Lycophon;
Those fifty slaughter’d in the gloomy vale,
He spared but one to bear the dreadful tale.
Such Tydeus was, and such his martial fire; 450
Gods! how the son degen’rates from the sire!’
No words the godlike Diomed return’d,
But heard respectful, and in secret burn’d:
Not so fierce Capaneus’ undaunted son;
Stern as his sire, the boaster thus begun: 455
‘What needs, O Monarch, this invidious praise,
Ourselves to lessen, while our sires you raise?
Dare to be just, Atrides! and confess
Our valour equal, tho’ our fury less.
With fewer troops we storm’d the Theban wall, 460
And, happier, saw the sev’nfold city fall.
In impious acts the guilty fathers died;
The sons subdued, for Heav’n was on their side.
Far more than heirs of all our parents’ fame,
Our glories darken their diminish’d name.’ 465
To him Tydides thus: ‘My friend, forbear,
Suppress thy passion, and the King revere:
His high concern may well excuse this rage,
Whose cause we follow, and whose war we wage;
His the first praise, were Ilion’
s towers o’erthrown, 470
And, if we fail, the chief disgrace his own.
Let him the Greeks to hardy toils excite,
‘T is ours to labour in the glorious fight.’
He spoke, and ardent on the trembling ground
Sprung from his car; his ringing arms resound. 475
Dire was the clang, and dreadful from afar,
Of arm’d Tydides rushing to the war.
As when the winds, ascending by degrees,
First move the whitening surface of the seas,
The billows float in order to the shore, 480
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. 485
Sedate and silent move the numerous bands;
No sound, no whisper, but their Chief’s commands.
Those only heard; with awe the rest obey,
As if some God had snatch’d their voice away.
Not so the Trojans; from their host ascends 490
A gen’ral shout that all the region rends.
As when the fleecy flocks unnumber’d 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: 495
Such clamours rose from various nations round,
Mix’d was the murmur, and confused the sound.
Each host now joins, and each a God inspires,
These Mars incites, and those Minerva fires.
Pale Flight around, and dreadful Terror reign; 500
And Discord raging bathes the purple plain:
Discord! dire sister of the slaught’ring Power,
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; 505
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,
Host against host with shadowy squadrons drew, 510
The sounding darts in iron tempests flew.
Victors and vanquish’d join promiscuous cries,
And shrilling shouts and dying groans arise;
With streaming blood the slipp’ry fields are dyed,
And slaughter’d heroes swell the dreadful tide. 515
As torrents roll, increas’d by numerous rills,
With rage impetuous down their echoing hills;
Rush to the vales, and, pour’d along the plain,
Roar thro’ a thousand channels to the main;
The distant shepherd trembling hears the sound: 520
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 71
