Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series
Page 80
(O had he perish’d ere they touch’d our shore) 465
He proffers injured Greece; with large increase
Of added Trojan wealth, to buy the peace.
But, to restore the beauteous bride again,
This Greece demands, and Troy requests in vain.
Next, O ye Chiefs! we ask a truce to burn 470
Our slaughter’d heroes, and their bones inurn.
That done, once more the fate of war be tried,
And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide!’
The Greeks give ear, but none the silence broke;
At length Tydides rose, and rising spoke: 475
‘O take not, friends! defrauded of your fame,
Their proffer’d wealth, nor ev’n the Spartan dame.
Let conquest make them ours: Fate shakes their wall,
And Troy already totters to her fall.’
Th’ admiring Chiefs, and all the Grecian name, 480
With gen’ral shouts return’d him loud acclaim.
Then thus the King of Kings rejects the peace:
‘Herald! in him thou hear’st the voice of Greece.
For what remains, let funeral flames be fed
With hero’s corpse: I war not with the dead: 485
Go, search your slaughter’d Chiefs on yonder plain,
And gratify the Manes of the slain.
Be witness, Jove, whose thunder rolls on high!’
He said, and rear’d his sceptre to the sky.
To sacred Troy, where all her Princes lay 490
To wait th’ event, the herald bent his way.
He came, and, standing in the midst, explain’d;
The peace rejected, but the truce obtain’d,
Straight to their sev’ral cares the Trojans move;
Some search the plain, some fell the sounding grove: 495
Nor less the Greeks, descending on the shore,
Hew’d the green forests, and the bodies bore.
And now from forth the chambers of the main,
To shed his sacred light on earth again,
Arose the golden chariot of the day, 500
And tipp’d the mountains with a purple ray.
In mingled throngs the Greek and Trojan train
Thro’ heaps of carnage search’d the mournful plain.
Scarce could the friend his slaughter’d friend explore,
With dust dishonour’d, and deform’d with gore. 505
The wounds they wash’d, their pious tears they shed,
And, laid along their cars, deplored the dead.
Sage Priam check’d their grief: with silent haste
The bodies decent on the piles were placed:
With melting hearts the cold remains they burn’d; 510
And sadly slow to sacred Troy return’d.
Nor less the Greeks their pious sorrows shed,
And decent on the pile dispose the dead;
The cold remains consume with equal care;
And slowly, sadly, to their fleet repair. 515
Now, ere the morn had streak’d with redd’ning light
The doubtful confines of the day and night;
About the dying flames the Greeks appear’d,
And round the dying a gen’ral tomb they rear’d.
Then, to secure the camp and naval powers, 520
They rais’d embattled walls with lofty towers:
From space to space were ample gates around,
For passing chariots; and a trench profound,
Of large extent: and deep in earth below
Strong piles infix’d stood adverse to the foe. 525
So toil’d the Greeks: meanwhile the Gods above,
In shining circle round their father Jove,
Amazed beheld the wondrous works of man:
Then he whose trident shakes the earth began:
‘What mortals henceforth shall our power adore, 530
Our fanes frequent, our oracles implore,
If the proud Grecians thus successful boast
Their rising bulwarks on the sea-beat coast?
See the long walls extending to the main,
No God consulted, and no victim slain! 535
Their fame shall fill the world’s remotest ends;
Wide as the morn her golden beam extends:
While old Laömedon’s divine abodes,
Those radiant structures rais’d by lab’ring Gods,
Shall, razed and lost, in long oblivion sleep.’ 540
Thus spoke the hoary monarch of the deep.
Th’ almighty Thund’rer with a frown replies,
That clouds the world, and blackens half the skies:
‘Strong God of Ocean! thou, whose rage can make
The solid earth’s eternal basis shake! 545
What cause of fear from mortal works could move
The meanest subject of our realms above?
Where’er the sun’s refulgent rays are cast,
Thy power is honour’d and thy fame shall last.
But yon proud work no future age shall view, 550
No trace remain where once the glory grew.
The sapp’d foundations by thy force shall fall,
And, whelm’d beneath thy waves, drop the huge wall;
Vast drifts of sand shall change the former shore;
The ruin vanish’d, and the name no more.’ 555
Thus they in Heav’n: while o’er the Grecian train
The rolling sun descending to the main
Beheld the finish’d work. Their bulls they slew;
Black from the tents the sav’ry vapours flew.
And now the fleet, arrived from Lemnos’ strands, 560
With Bacchus’ blessings cheer’d the gen’rous bands.
Of fragrant wines the rich Eunæus sent
A thousand measures to the royal tent
(Eunæus, whom Hypsipyle of yore
To Jason, shepherd of his people, bore). 565
The rest they purchas’d at their proper cost,
And well the plenteous freight supplied the host:
Each, in exchange, proportion’d treasures gave,
Some brass, or iron, some an ox or slave.
All night they feast, the Greek and Trojan powers; 570
Those on the fields, and these within their towers.
But Jove averse the signs of wrath display’d,
And shot red lightnings thro’ the gloomy shade:
Humbled they stood; pale horror seized on all,
While the deep thunder shook th’ aërial hall. 575
Each pour’d to Jove, before the bowl was crown’d,
And large libations drench’d the thirsty ground;
Then late, refresh’d with sleep from toils of fight,
Enjoy’d the balmy blessings of the night.
Iliad Book VIII. The Second Battle, and the Distress of the Greeks
THE ARGUMENT
Jupiter assembles a council of the deities, and threatens them with the pains of Tartarus, if they assist either side: Minerva only obtains of him that she may direct the Greeks by her counsels. The armies join battle; Jupiter on Mount Ida weighs in his balances the fates of both, and affrights the Greeks with his thunders and lightnings. Nestor alone continues in the field in great danger; Diomed relieves him; whose exploits, and those of Hector, are excellently described. Juno endeavours to animate Neptune to the assistance of the Greeks, but in vain. The acts of Teucer, who is at length wounded by Hector, and carried off. Juno and Minerva prepare to aid the Grecians, but are restrained by Iris, sent from Jupiter. The night puts an end to the battle. Hector continues in the field (the Greeks being driven to their fortifications before the ships), and gives orders to keep the watch all night in the camp, to prevent the enemy from reëmbarking and escaping by flight. They Kindle fires through all the field, and pass the night under arms.
The time of seven-and-twenty days is employed from the opening of the poem to the end of this book. The
scene here (except of the celestial machines) lies in the field toward the sea-shore.
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; 5
The Heav’ns attentive trembled as he spoke:
‘Celestial states, immortal Gods! give ear,
Hear our decree, and rev’rence what ye hear;
The fix’d decree which not all Heav’n can move;
Thou, Fate! fulfil it! and ye, Powers! approve! 10
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,
Gash’d with dishonest wounds, the scorn of Heav’n:
Or far, oh far from steep Olympus thrown, 15
Low in the dark Tartarean gulf shall groan,
With burning chains fix’d to the brazen floors,
And lock’d by Hell’s inexorable doors;
As deep beneath th’ infernal centre hurl’d,
As from that centre to th’ ethereal world. 20
Let him who tempts me, dread those dire abodes;
And know, th’ Almighty is the God of Gods.
League all your forces then, ye Powers above,
Join all, and try th’ omnipotence of Jove:
Let down our golden everlasting chain, 25
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,
I heave the Gods, the Ocean, and the Land; 30
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 Powers reply; 35
A rev’rent horror silenc’d all the sky;
Trembling they stood before their sov’reign’s look;
At length his best belov’d, the Power of Wisdom, spoke:
‘Oh first and greatest! God, by Gods ador’d!
We own thy might, our father and our Lord! 40
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, 45
Or all must perish in the wrath of Jove.’
The cloud-compelling God her suit approv’d,
And smil’d superior on his best-belov’d.
Then call’d his coursers, and his chariot took;
The steadfast firmament beneath them shook: 50
Rapt by th’ ethereal steeds the chariot roll’d;
Brass were their hoofs, their curling manes of gold.
Of Heav’n’s undrossy gold the God’s array,
Refulgent, flash’d intolerable day.
High on the throne he shines: his coursers fly 55
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 rais’d,
His fane breathed odours, and his altar blazed: 60
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, 65
The town, and tents, and navigable seas.
Now had the Grecians snatch’d a short repast,
And buckled on their shining arms with haste.
Troy rous’d as soon; for on this dreadful day
The fate of fathers, wives, and infants lay. 70
The gates unfolding pour forth all their train;
Squadrons on squadrons cloud the dusky plain:
Men, steeds, and chariots, shake the trembling ground,
The tumult thickens, and the skies resound.
And now with shouts the shocking armies closed, 75
To lances lances, shields to shields opposed;
Host against host with shadowy legions drew,
The sounding darts in iron tempests flew;
Victors and vanquish’d join promiscuous cries,
Triumphant shouts and dying groans arise; 80
With streaming blood the slipp’ry fields are dyed,
And slaughter’d heroes swell the dreadful tide.
Long as the morning beams, increasing bright,
O’er Heav’n’s clear azure spread the sacred light,
Commutual death the fate of war confounds, 85
Each adverse battle gored with equal wounds.
But when the sun the height of Heav’n ascends,
The Sire of Gods his golden scales suspends,
With equal hand; in these explored the fate
Of Greece and Troy, and pois’d the mighty weight. 90
Press’d with its load, the Grecian balance lies
Low sunk on earth, the Trojan strikes the skies.
Then Jove from Ida’s top his horrors spreads;
The clouds burst dreadful o’er the Grecian heads;
Thick lightnings flash; the mutt’ring thunder rolls; 95
Their strength he withers, and unmans their souls.
Before his wrath the trembling hosts retire,
The Gods in terrors, and the skies on fire.
Nor great Idomeneus that sight could bear.
Nor each stern Ajax, thunderbolts of war; 100
Nor he, the King of Men, th’ alarm sustain’d;
Nestor alone amidst the storm remain’d.
Unwilling he remain’d, for Paris’ dart
Had pierc’d his courser in a mortal part;
Fix’d in the forehead where the springing mane 105
Curl’d o’er the brow, it stung him to the brain;
Mad with his anguish, he begins to rear,
Paw with his hoofs aloft, and lash the air.
Scarce had his falchion cut the reins, and freed
Th’ incumbent chariot from the dying steed, 110
When dreadful Hector, thund’ring thro’ the war,
Pour’d to the tumult on his whirling car.
That day had stretch’d beneath his matchless hand
The hoary Monarch of the Pylian band,
But Diomed beheld; from forth the crowd 115
He rush’d, and on Ulysses call’d aloud:
‘Whither, oh whither does Ulysses run?
O flight unworthy great Laërtes’ son!
Mix’d with the vulgar shall thy fate be found,
Pierc’d in the back, a vile, dishonest wound? 120
Oh turn and save from Hector’s direful rage
The glory of the Greeks, the Pylian sage.’
His fruitless words are lost unheard in air;
Ulysses seeks the ships, and shelters there.
But bold Tydides to the rescue goes, 125
A single warrior ‘midst a host of foes;
Before the coursers with a sudden spring
He leap’d, and anxious thus bespoke the King:
‘Great perils, Father! wait th’ unequal fight;
These younger champions will oppress thy might. 130
Thy veins no more with ancient vigour glow,
Weak is thy servant, and thy coursers slow.
Then haste, ascend my seat, and from the car
Observe the steeds of Tros, renown’d in war,
Practis’d alike to turn, to stop, to chase, 135
&nbs
p; To dare the fight, or urge the rapid race:
These late obey’d Æneas’ guiding rein;
Leave thou thy chariot to our faithful train:
With these against you Trojans will we go,
Nor shall great Hector want an equal foe; 140
Fierce as he is, ev’n he may learn to fear
The thirsty fury of my flying spear.’
Thus said the Chief; and Nestor, skill’d in war,
Approves his counsel, and ascends the car:
The steeds he left, their trusty servants hold; 145
Eurymedon, and Sthenelus the bold.
The rev’rend charioteer directs the course,
And strains his aged arm to lash the horse.
Hector they face; unknowing how to fear,
Fierce he drove on: Tydides whirl’d his spear. 150
The spear with erring haste mistook its way,
But plunged in Eniopeus’ bosom lay.
His opening hand in death forsakes the rein;
The steeds fly back: he falls, and spurns the plain.
Great Hector sorrows for his servant kill’d, 155
Yet unrevenged permits to press the field;
Till to supply his place and rule the car,
Rose Archeptolemus, the fierce in war.
And now had death and horror cover’d all;
Like tim’rous flocks the Trojans in their wall 160
Enclosed had bled: but Jove with awful sound
Roll’d the big thunder o’er the vast profound:
Full in Tydides’ face the lightning flew;
The ground before him flamed with sulphur blue:
The quiv’ring steeds fell prostrate at the sight; 165
And Nestor’s trembling hand confess’d his fright:
He dropp’d the reins; and, shook with sacred dread,
Thus, turning, warn’d th’ intrepid Diomed:
‘O Chief! too daring in thy friend’s defence,
Retire advised, and urge the chariot hence. 170
This day, averse, the Sov’reign of the Skies
Assists great Hector, and our palm denies.
Some other sun may see the happier hour,
When Greece shall conquer by his heav’nly power.
‘T is not in man his fix’d decree to move: 175
The great will glory to submit to Jove.’
‘O rev’rend Prince!’ (Tydides thus replies)
‘Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise.
But ah, what grief! should haughty Hector boast,
I fled inglorious to the guarded coast. 180
Before that dire disgrace shall blast my fame,
O’erwhelm me, earth! and hide a warrior’s shame.’
To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied:
‘Gods! can thy courage fear the Phrygian’s pride?