Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

by Alexander Pope

  The Goddess said, and sullen took her place:

  Blank horror sadden’d each celestial face.

  To see the gath’ring grudge in every breast, 110

  Smiles on her lips a spleenful joy express’d.

  While on her wrinkled front, and eyebrow bent,

  Sat steadfast care, and low’ring discontent.

  Thus she proceeds: ‘Attend, ye Powers above!

  But know, ‘t is madness to contest with Jove: 115

  Supreme he sits; and sees, in pride of sway,

  Your vassal Godheads grudgingly obey;

  Fierce in the majesty of power controls,

  Shakes all the thrones of Heav’n, and bends the poles.

  Submiss, immortals! all he wills, obey; 120

  And thou, great Mars, begin and show the way.

  Behold Ascalaphus! behold him die,

  But dare not murmur, dare not vent a sigh;

  Thy own lov’d boasted offspring lies o’er-thrown,

  If that lov’d boasted offspring be thy own.’ 125

  Stern Mars, with anguish for his slaughter’d son,

  Smote his rebelling breast, and fierce begun:

  ‘Thus then, Immortals! thus shall Mars obey?

  Forgive me, Gods, and yield my vengeance way:

  Descending first to yon forbidden plain, 130

  The God of Battles dares avenge the slain;

  Dares, tho’ the thunder bursting o’er my head

  Should hurl me blazing on those heaps of dead.’

  With that, he gives command to Fear and Flight

  To join his rapid coursers for the fight: 135

  Then grim in arms, with hasty vengeance flies;

  Arms, that reflect a radiance thro’ the skies.

  And now had Jove, by bold rebellion driv’n,

  Discharged his wrath on half the host of Heav’n;

  But Pallas springing thro’ the bright abode, 140

  Starts from her azure throne to calm the God.

  Struck for th’ immortal race with timely fear,

  From frantic Mars she snatch’d the shield and spear;

  Then the huge helmet lifting from his head,

  Thus to th’ impetuous homicide she said: 145

  ‘By what wild passion, furious! art thou toss’d?

  Strivest thou with Jove? thou art already lost.

  Shall not the Thund’rer’s dread command restrain,

  And was imperial Juno heard in vain?

  Back to the skies would’st thou with shame be driv’n, 150

  And in thy guilt involve the host of Heav’n?

  Ilion and Greece no more shall Jove engage;

  The skies would yield an ampler scene of rage,

  Guilty and guiltless find an equal fate,

  And one vast ruin whelm th’ Olympian state. 155

  Cease then thy offspring’s death unjust to call;

  Heroes as great have died, and yet shall fall.

  Why should Heav’n’s law with foolish man comply,

  Exempted from the race ordain’d to die?’

  This menace fix’d the warrior to his throne; 160

  Sullen he sat, and curb’d the rising groan.

  Then Juno call’d (Jove’s orders to obey)

  The winged Iris, and the God of Day.

  ‘Go wait the Thund’rer’s will’ (Saturnia cried),

  ‘On yon tall summit of the fountful Ide: 165

  There in the Father’s awful presence stand,

  Receive and execute his dread command.’

  She said, and sat. The God that gilds the day,

  And various Iris, wing their airy way.

  Swift as the wind, to Ida’s hills they came 170

  (Fair nurse of fountains, and of savage game);

  There sat th’ Eternal; he whose nod controls

  The trembling world, and shakes the steady poles.

  Veil’d in a mist of fragrance him they found,

  With clouds of gold and purple circled round. 175

  Well-pleas’d the Thund’rer saw their earnest care,

  And prompt obedience to the Queen of Air;

  Then (while a smile serenes his awful brow)

  Commands the Goddess of the Showery Bow:

  ‘Iris! descend, and what we here ordain 180

  Report to you mad tyrant of the main,

  Bid him from fight to his own deeps repair,

  Or breathe from slaughter in the fields of air.

  If he refuse, then let him timely weigh

  Our elder birthright, and superior sway. 185

  How shall his rashness stand the dire alarms,

  If Heav’n’s omnipotence descend in arms?

  Strives he with me, by whom his power was giv’n,

  And is there equal to the Lord of Heav’n?’

  Th’ Almighty spoke; the Goddess wing’d her flight 190

  To sacred Ilion from th’ Idæan height.

  Swift as the rattling hail or fleecy snows

  Drive thro’ the skies, when Boreas fiercely blows;

  So from the clouds descending Iris falls;

  And to blue Neptune thus the Goddess calls: 195

  ‘Attend the mandate of the Sire above,

  In me behold the Messenger of Jove:

  He bids thee from forbidden wars repair

  To thy own deeps, or to the fields of air.

  This if refused, he bids thee timely weigh 200

  His elder birthright, and superior sway.

  How shall thy rashness stand the dire alarms,

  If Heav’n’s omnipotence descend in arms?

  Strivest thou with him, by whom all power is giv’n?

  And art thou equal to the lord of Heav’n?’ 205

  ‘What means the haughty Sov’reign of the Skies?’

  (The King of Ocean thus, incens’d, replies):

  ‘Rule as he will his portion’d realms on high,

  No vassal God, nor of his train, am I.

  Three brother deities from Saturn came, 210

  And ancient Rhea, earth’s immortal dame:

  Assign’d by lot, our triple rule we know:

  Infernal Pluto sways the shades below;

  O’er the wide clouds, and o’er the starry plain,

  Ethereal Jove extends his high domain; 215

  My court beneath the hoary waves I keep,

  And hush the roarings of the sacred deep:

  Olympus, and this earth, in common lie;

  What claim has here the Tyrant of the Sky?

  Far in the distant clouds let him control, 220

  And awe the younger brothers of the pole;

  There to his children his commands be giv’n,

  The trembling, servile, second race of Heav’n.’

  ‘And must I then’ (said she), ‘O Sire of floods!

  Bear this fierce answer to the King of Gods? 225

  Correct it yet, and change thy rash intent;

  A noble mind disdains not to repent.

  To elder brothers guardian fiends are giv’n,

  To scourge the wretch insulting them and Heav’n.’

  ‘Great is the profit’ (thus the God rejoin’d), 230

  ‘When ministers are bless’d with prudent mind:

  Warn’d by thy words, to powerful Jove I yield,

  And quit, tho’ angry, the contended field.

  Not but his threats with justice I disclaim,

  The same our honours, and our birth the same. 235

  If yet, forgetful of his promise giv’n

  To Hermes, Pallas, and the queen of Heav’n,

  To favour Ilion, that perfidious place,

  He breaks his faith with half th’ ethereal race;

  Give him to know, unless the Grecian train 240

  Lay yon proud structures level with the plain,

  Howe’er th’ offence by other Gods be pass’d,

  The wrath of Neptune shall for ever last.’

  Thus speaking, furious from the field he strode,


  And plunged into the bosom of the flood. 245

  The Lord of Thunders from his lofty height

  Beheld, and thus bespoke the source of light:

  ‘Behold! the God whose liquid arms are hurl’d

  Around the globe, whose earthquakes rock the world,

  Desists at length his rebel-war to wage, 250

  Seeks his own seas, and trembles at our rage:

  Else had my wrath, Heav’n’s thrones all shaking round,

  Burn’d to the bottom of his seas profound;

  And all the Gods that round old Saturn dwell,

  Had heard the thunders to the deeps of Hell. 255

  Well was the crime, and well the vengeance spared,

  Ev’n power immense had found such battle hard.

  Go thou, my son! the trembling Greeks alarm,

  Shake my broad ægis on thy active arm:

  Be godlike Hector thy peculiar care, 260

  Swell his bold heart, and urge his strength to war:

  Let Ilion conquer, till the Achaian train

  Fly to their ships and Hellespont again:

  Then Greece shall breathe from toils.’ The Godhead said;

  His will divine the Son of Jove obey’d. 265

  Not half so swift the sailing falcon flies,

  That drives a turtle thro’ the liquid skies;

  As Phœbus, shooting from th’ Idæan brow,

  Glides down the mountain to the plain below.

  There Hector seated by the stream he sees, 270

  His sense returning with the coming breeze;

  Again his pulses beat, his spirits rise;

  Again his lov’d companions meet his eyes;

  Jove thinking of his pains, they pass’d away.

  To whom the God who gives the golden day: 275

  ‘Why sits great Hector from the field so far,

  What grief, what wound, withholds him from the war?’

  The fainting hero, as the vision bright

  Stood shining o’er him, half unseal’d his sight:

  ‘What bless’d immortal, with commanding breath, 280

  Thus wakens Hector from the sleep of death?

  Has fame not told, how, while my trusty sword

  Bathed Greece in slaughter, and her battle gored,

  The mighty Ajax with a deadly blow

  Had almost sunk me to the shades below? 285

  Ev’n yet, methinks, the gliding ghosts I spy,

  And Hell’s black horrors swim before my eye.’

  To him Apollo: ‘Be no more dismay’d;

  See, and be strong! the Thund’rer sends thee aid:

  Behold! thy Phœbus shall his arms employ, 290

  Phœbus, propitious still to thee and Troy.

  Inspire thy warriors then with manly force,

  And to the ships impel thy rapid horse:

  Ev’n I will make thy fiery coursers’ way,

  And drive the Grecians headlong to the sea.’ 295

  Thus to bold Hector spoke the Son of Jove,

  And breathed immortal ardour from above.

  As when the pamper’d steed, with reins unbound,

  Breaks from his stall, and pours along the ground;

  With ample strokes he rushes to the flood, 300

  To bather his sides and cool his fiery blood:

  His head, now freed, he tosses to the skies:

  His mane dishevell’d o’er his shoulders flies:

  He snuffs the females in the well-known plain,

  And springs, exulting, to his fields again: 305

  Urged by the voice divine, thus Hector flew,

  Full of the God; and all his hosts pursue.

  As when the force of men and dogs combin’d

  Invade the mountain-goat or branching hind;

  Far from the hunter’s rage secure they lie 310

  Close in the rock (not fated yet to die);

  When lo! a lion shoots across the way!

  They fly: at once the chasers and the prey:

  So Greece, that late in conquering troops pursued,

  And mark’d their progress thro’ the ranks in blood, 315

  Soon as they see the furious Chief appear,

  Forget to vanquish, and consent to fear.

  Thoas with grief observ’d his dreadful course,

  Thoas, the bravest of th’ Ætolian force;

  Skill’d to direct the jav’lin’s distant flight, 320

  And bold to combat in the standing fight;

  Nor more in counsels famed for solid sense,

  Than winning words and heav’nly eloquence.

  ‘Gods! what portent’ (he cried) ‘these eyes invades?

  Lo, Hector rises from the Stygian shades! 325

  We saw him, late, by Thund’ring Ajax kill’d;

  What God restores him to the frighted field;

  And not content that half of Greece lie slain,

  Pours new destruction on her sons again?

  He comes not, Jove! without thy powerful will; 330

  Lo! still he lives, pursues, and conquers still!

  Yet hear my counsel, and his worst withstand;

  The Greek’s main body to the fleet command:

  But let the few whom brisker spirits warm,

  Stand the first onset, and provoke the storm: 335

  Thus point your arms; and when such foes appear,

  Fierce as he is, let Hector learn to fear.’

  The warrior spoke, the list’ning Greeks obey,

  Thick’ning their ranks, and form a deep array.

  Each Ajax, Teucer, Merion gave command, 340

  The valiant leader of the Cretan band,

  And Mars-like Meges: these the Chiefs excite,

  Approach the foe, and meet the coming fight.

  Behind, unnumber’d multitudes attend

  To flank the navy, and the shores defend. 345

  Full on the front the pressing Trojans bear,

  And Hector first came tow’ring to the war.

  Phœbus himself the rushing battle led;

  A veil of clouds involv’d his radiant head:

  High-held before him, Jove’s enormous shield 350

  Portentous shone, and shaded all the field:

  Vulcan to Jove th’ immortal gift consign’d,

  To scatter hosts, and terrify mankind.

  The Greeks expect the shock; the clamours rise

  From diff’rent parts, and mingle in the skies. 355

  Dire was the hiss of darts, by heroes flung,

  And arrows leaping from the bow-string sung;

  These drink the life of gen’rous warriors slain;

  Those guiltless fall, and thirst for blood in vain.

  As long as Phœbus bore unmov’d the shield, 360

  Sat doubtful Conquest hov’ring on the field;

  But when aloft he shakes it in the skies,

  Shouts in their ears, and lightens in their eyes,

  Deep horror seizes ev’ry Grecian breast,

  Their force is humbled, and their fear confess’d. 365

  So flies a herd of oxen, scatter’d wide,

  No swain to guard them, and no day to guide,

  When two fell lions from the mountain come,

  And spread the carnage thro’ the shady gloom.

  Impending Phœbus pours around them fear, 370

  And Troy and Hector thunder in the rear.

  Heaps fall on heaps: the slaughter Hector leads;

  First, great Arcesilas, then Stichius bleeds;

  One to the bold Bœotians ever dear,

  And one Menestheus’ friend, and famed compeer. 375

  Medon and Iäsus, Æneas sped;

  This sprung from Phelus, and th’ Athenians led;

  But hapless Medon from Oïleus came;

  Him Ajax honour’d with a brother’s name,

  Tho’ born of lawless love: from home expell’d, 380

  A banish’d man, in Phylace he dwell’d,

  Press’d by the vengeance o
f an angry wife;

  Troy ends, at last, his labours and his life.

  Mecystes next, Polydamas o’erthrew;

  And thee, brave Clonius! great Agenor slew. 385

  By Paris, Deiochus inglorious dies,

  Pierc’d thro’ the shoulder as he basely flies.

  Polites’ arm laid Echius on the plain;

  Stretch’d on one heap, the victors spoil the slain.

  The Greeks dismay’d, confused, disperse or fall, 390

  Some seek the trench, some skulk behind the wall;

  While these fly trembling, others pant for breath.

  And o’er the slaughter stalks gigantic death.

  On rush’d bold Hector, gloomy as the night,

  Forbids to plunder, animates the fight. 395

  Points to the fleet: ‘For, by the Gods, who flies,

  Who dares but linger, by this hand he dies;

  No weeping sister his cold eye shall close,

  No friendly hand his funeral pyre compose.

  Who stops to plunder at this signal hour, 400

  The birds shall tear him, and the dogs devour.’

  Furious he said; the smarting scourge resounds;

  The coursers fly; the smoking chariot bounds;

  The hosts rush on; loud clamours shake the shore;

  The horses thunder, earth and ocean roar! 405

  Apollo, planted at the trench’s bound,

  Push’d at the bank; down sunk th’ enormous mound:

  Roll’d in the ditch the heapy ruin lay;

  A sudden road! a long and ample way:

  O’er the dread fosse (a late impervious space) 410

  Now steeds, and men, and cars tumultuous pass.

  The wond’ring crowds the downward level trod;

  Before them flamed the shield, and march’d the God.

  Then with his hand he shook the mighty wall;

  And lo! the turrets nod, the bulwarks fall. 415

  Easy, as when ashore an infant stands.

  And draws imagin’d houses in the sands;

  The sportive wanton, pleas’d with some new play.

  Sweeps the slight works and fashion’d domes away.

  Thus vanish’d, at thy touch, the towers and walls; 420

  The toil of thousands in a moment falls.

  The Grecians gaze around with wild despair,

  Confused, and weary all the powers with prayer;

  Exhort their men, with praises, threats, commands;

  And urge the Gods, with voices, eyes, and hands. 425

  Experienc’d Nestor chief obtests the skies,

  And weeps his country with a father’s eyes:

  ‘O Jove! if ever, on his native shore,

  One Greek enrich’d thy shrine with offer’d gore;

  If e’er in hope our country to behold, 430

  We paid the fatted firstlings of the fold;