Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

by Alexander Pope

  So pale the Greeks the eyes of Hector meet,

  The Chief so thunders, and so shakes the fleet.

  As when a lion rushing from his den, 760

  Amidst the plain of some wide-water’d fen

  (Where numerous oxen, as at ease they feed,

  At large expatiate o’er the ranker mead),

  Leaps on the herds before the herdsman’s eyes:

  The trembling herdsman far to distance flies: 765

  Some lordly bull (the rest dispers’d and fled)

  He singles out; arrests, and lays him dead.

  Thus from the rage of Jove-like Hector flew

  All Greece in heaps; but one he seiz’d, and slew.

  Mycenean Periphes, a mighty name, 770

  In wisdom great, in arms well-known to fame:

  The minister of stern Eurystheus’ ire,

  Against Alcides; Copreus was his sire:

  The son redeem’d the honours of the race,

  A son as gen’rous as the sire was base; 775

  O’er all his country’s youth conspicuous far

  In ev’ry virtue, or of peace or war:

  But doom’d to Hector’s stronger force to yield!

  Against the margin of his ample shield

  He struck his hasty foot: his heels upsprung; 780

  Supine he fell, his brazen helmet rung.

  On the fall’n Chief th’ invading Trojan press’d,

  And plunged the pointed jav’lin in his breast.

  His circling friends, who strove to guard too late

  Th’ unhappy hero, fled, or shared his fate. 785

  Chased from the foremost line, the Grecian train

  Now man the next, receding toward the main:

  Wedg’d in one body at the tents they stand,

  Wall’d round with sterns, a gloomy, desp’rate band.

  Now manly shame forbids th’ inglorious flight; 790

  Now fear itself confines them to the fight:

  Man courage breathes in man; but Nestor most

  (The sage preserver of the Grecian host)

  Exhorts, adjures, to guard these utmost shores;

  And by their parents, by themselves, implores: 795

  ‘O friends! be men: your gen’rous breasts inflame

  With mutual honour, and with mutual shame!

  Think of your hopes, your fortunes; all the care

  Your wives, your infants, and your parents, share:

  Think of each living father’s rev’rend head; 800

  Think of each ancestor with glory dead;

  Absent, by me they speak, by me they sue;

  They ask their safety and their fame from you:

  The Gods their fates on this one action lay,

  And all are lost if you desert the day.’ 805

  He spoke, and round him breathed heroic fires;

  Minerva seconds what the sage inspires.

  The mist of darkness Jove around them threw,

  She clear’d, restoring all the war to view:

  A sudden ray shot beaming o’er the plain, 810

  And shew’d the shores, the navy, and the main.

  Hector they saw, and all who fly or fight,

  The scene wide opening to the blaze of light.

  First of the field, great Ajax strikes their eyes,

  His port majestic, and his ample size: 815

  A pond’rous mace, with studs of iron crown’d,

  Full twenty cubits long, he swings around.

  Nor fights like others fix’d to certain stands,

  But looks a moving tower above the bands;

  High on the decks, with vast gigantic stride, 820

  The godlike hero stalks from side to side.

  So when a horseman from the wat’ry mead

  (Skill’d in the manage of the bounding steed)

  Drives four fair coursers, practis’d to obey,

  To some great city thro’ the public way; 825

  Safe in his art, as side by side they run,

  He shifts his seat, and vaults from one to one;

  And now to this, and now to that he flies;

  Admiring numbers follow with their eyes.

  From ship to ship thus Ajax swiftly flew, 830

  No less the wonder of the warring crew.

  As furious, Hector thunder’d threats aloud,

  And rush’d enraged before the Trojan crowd;

  Then swift invades the ships, whose beaky prores

  Lay rank’d contiguous on the bending shores. 835

  So the strong eagle from his airy height,

  Who marks the swans’ or cranes’ embodied flight,

  Stoops down impetuous, while they light for food,

  And stooping darkens with his wings the flood.

  Jove leads him on with his almighty hand, 840

  And breathes fierce spirits in his foll’wing band.

  The warring nations meet, the battle roars,

  Thick beats the combat on the sounding prores.

  Thou would’st have thought, so furious was their fire,

  No force could tame them, and no toil could tire; 845

  As if new vigour from new fights they won,

  And the long battle was but then begun.

  Greece, yet unconquer’d, kept alive the war,

  Secure of death, confiding in despair;

  Troy in proud hopes already view’d the main 850

  Bright with the blaze, and red with heroes slain:

  Like strength is felt from hope, and from despair,

  And each contends, as his were all the war.

  ‘T was thou, bold Hector! whose resistless hand

  First seiz’d a ship on that contested strand; 855

  The same which dead Protesilaus bore,

  The first that touch’d th’ unhappy Trojan shore.

  For this in arms the warring nations stood,

  And bathed their gen’rous breasts with mutual blood.

  No room to poise the lance, or bend the bow; 860

  But hand to hand, and man to man they grow:

  Wounded, they wound; and seek each other’s hearts

  With falchions, axes, swords, and shorten’d darts.

  The falchions ring, shields rattle, axes sound,

  Swords flash in air, or glitter on the ground: 865

  With streaming blood the slipp’ry shores are dyed,

  And slaughter’d heroes swell the dreadful tide.

  Still raging Hector with his ample hand

  Grasps the high stern, and gives his loud command:

  ‘Haste, bring the flames! the toil of ten long years 870

  Is finish’d; and the day desired appears!

  This happy day with acclamations greet,

  Bright with destruction of yon hostile fleet.

  The coward counsels of a tim’rous throng

  Of rev’rend dotards, check’d out glory long: 875

  Too long Jove lull’d us with lethargic charms,

  But now in peals of thunder calls to arms;

  In this great day he crowns our full desires,

  Wakes all our force, and seconds all our fires.’

  He spoke. The warriors, at his fierce command, 880

  Pour a new deluge on the Grecian band.

  Ev’n Ajax paus’d (so thick the jav’lins fly),

  Stepp’d back, and doubted or to live, or die.

  Yet where the oars are placed, he stands to wait

  What Chief approaching dares attempt his fate: 885

  Ev’n to the last his naval charge defends,

  Now shakes his spear, now lifts, and now protends;

  Ev’n yet, the Greeks with piercing shouts inspires,

  Amidst attacks, and deaths, and darts, and fires:

  ‘O friends! O heroes! names for ever dear, 890

  Once sons of Mars, and thunderbolts of war!

  Ah! yet be mindful of your old renown,

  Your great forefathers’ virtues and your own.

  What aids
expect you in this utmost strait?

  What bulwarks rising between you and fate? 895

  No aids, no bulwarks, your retreat attend,

  No friends to help, no city to defend.

  This spot is all you have, to lose or keep;

  There stand the Trojans, and here rolls the deep.

  ‘T is hostile ground you tread; your native lands 900

  Far, far from hence: your fates are in your hands.’

  Raging he spoke; nor farther wastes his breath,

  But turns his jav’lin to the work of death.

  Whate’er bold Trojan arm’d his daring bands

  Against the sable ships with flaming brands, 905

  So well the Chief his naval weapon sped,

  The luckless warrior at his stern lay dead:

  Full twelve, the boldest, in a moment fell,

  Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell.

  Iliad Book XVI. The Sixth Battle: The Acts and Death of Patroclus

  THE ARGUMENT

  Patroclus (in pursuance of the request of Nestor in the eleventh book) entreats Achilles to suffer him to go to the assistance of the Greeks with Achilles’ troops and armour. He agrees to it, but at the same time charges him to content himself with rescuing the fleet, without farther pursuit of the enemy. The armour, horses, soldiers, and officers of Achilles are described. Achilles offers a libation for the success of his friend, after which Patroclus leads the Myrmidons to battle. The Trojans, at the sight of Patroclus in Achilles’ armour, taking him for that hero, are cast into the utmost consternation: he beats them off from the vessels, Hector himself flies, Sarpedon is killed, though Jupiter was averse to his fate. Several other particulars of the battle are described; in the heat of which, Patroclus, neglecting the orders of Achilles, pursues the foe to the walls of Troy; where Apollo repulses and disarms him. Euphorbus wounds him, and Hector kills him: which concludes the book.

  SO warr’d both armies on th’ ensanguin’d shore,

  While the black vessels smoked with human gore.

  Meantime Patroclus to Achilles flies;

  The streaming tears fall copious from his eyes;

  Not faster, trickling to the plains below, 5

  From the tall rock the sable waters flow.

  Divine Pelides, with compassion mov’d,

  Thus spoke, indulgent to his best belov’d:

  ‘Patroclus, say, what grief thy bosom bears,

  That flows so fat in these unmanly tears? 10

  No girl, no infant whom the mother keeps

  From her lov’d breast, with fonder passion weeps;

  Not more the mother’s soul that infant warms,

  Clung to her knees, and reaching at her arms,

  Than thou hast mine! Oh tell me to what end 15

  Thy melting sorrows thus pursue thy friend?

  ‘Griev’st thou for me, or for my martial band?

  Or come sad tidings from our native land?

  Our fathers live (our first, most tender care,)

  Thy good Menœtius breathes the vital air, 20

  And hoary Peleus yet extends his days;

  Pleas’d in their age to hear their children’s praise.

  ‘Or may some meaner cause thy pity claim?

  Perhaps yon relics of the Grecian name,

  Doom’d in their ships to sink by fire and sword, 25

  And pay the forfeit of their haughty lord?

  Whate’er the cause, reveal thy secret care,

  And speak those sorrows which a friend would share.’

  A sigh, that instant, from his bosom broke,

  Another follow’d, and Patroclus spoke: 30

  ‘Let Greece at length with pity touch thy breast,

  Thyself a Greek; and, once, of Greeks the best!

  Lo! ev’ry Chief that might her fate prevent,

  Lies pierc’d with wounds, and bleeding in his tent:

  Eurpylus, Tydides, Atreus’ son, 35

  And wise Ulysses, at the navy groan,

  More for their country’s wounds, than for their own.

  Their pain soft arts of pharmacy can ease;

  Thy breast alone no lenitives appease.

  ‘May never rage like thine my soul enslave, 40

  O great in vain! unprofitably brave!

  Thy country slighted in her last distress,

  What friend, what man, from thee shall hope redress?

  No: men unborn, and ages yet behind,

  Shall curse that fierce, that unforgiving mind. 45

  ‘O man unpitying! if of man thy race;

  But sure thou spring’st not from a soft embrace,

  Nor ever am’rous hero caus’d thy birth,

  Nor ever tender Goddess brought thee forth.

  Some rugged rock’s hard entrails gave thee form, 50

  And raging seas produced thee in a storm;

  A soul well suiting that tempestuous kind,

  So rough thy manners, so untamed thy mind.

  ‘If some dire oracle thy breast alarm,

  If aught from Jove, or Thetis, stop thy arm, 55

  Some beam of comfort yet on Greece may shine,

  If I but lead the Myrmidonian line:

  Clad in thy dreadful arms if I appear,

  Proud Troy shall tremble and desert the war:

  Without thy person Greece shall win the day, 60

  And thy mere image chase her foes away.

  Press’d by fresh forces, her o’erlabour’d train

  Shall quit the ships, and Greece respire again.’

  Thus, blind to fate! with supplicating breath,

  Thou begg’st his arms, and in his arms thy death. 65

  Unfortunately good! a boding sigh

  Thy friend return’d; and with it, this reply:

  ‘Patroclus! thy Achilles knows no fears;

  Nor words from Jove, nor oracles, he hears;

  Nor aught a mother’s caution can suggest; 70

  The tyrant’s pride lies rooted in my breast.

  My wrongs, my wrongs, my constant thought engage,

  Those, my sole oracles, inspire my rage:

  I made him tyrant; gave him power to wrong

  Ev’n me: I felt it; and shall feel it long. 75

  The maid, my black-eyed maid, he forc’d away;

  Due to the toils of many a well-fought day;

  Due to my conquest of her father’s reign;

  Due to the votes of all the Grecian train.

  From me he forc’d her, me the bold and brave; 80

  Disgraced, dishonour’d, like the meanest slave.

  But bear we this —— The wrongs I grieve are past;

  ‘T is time our fury should relent at last:

  I fix’d its date; the day I wish’d appears;

  Now Hector to my ships his battle bears, 85

  The flames my eyes, the shouts invade my ears.

  Go, then, Patroclus! court fair honour’s charms

  In Troy’s famed fields, and in Achilles’ arms:

  Lead forth my martial Myrmidons to fight,

  Go, save the fleets, and conquer in my right. 90

  See the thin relics of their baffled band,

  At the last edge of yon deserted land!

  Behold all Ilion on their ships descends;

  How the cloud blackens, how the storm impends!

  It was not thus, when, at my sight amazed, 95

  Troy saw and trembled as this helmet blazed:

  Had not th’ injurious king our friendship lost,

  Yon ample trench had buried half her host.

  No camps, no bulwarks, now the Trojans fear,

  Those are not dreadful, no Achilles there: 100

  No longer flames the lance of Tydeus’ son;

  No more your Gen’ral calls his heroes on:

  Hector alone I hear; his dreadful breath

  Commands your slaughter, or proclaims your death.

  Yet now, Patroclus, issue to the plain; 105

  Now save the ships, the ri
sing fires restrain,

  And give the Greeks to visit Greece again.

  But heed my words, and mark a friend’s command,

  Who trusts his fame and honours in thy hand,

  And from thy deeds expects th’ Achaian host 110

  Shall render back the beauteous maid he lost:

  Rage uncontroll’d thro’ all the hostile crew,

  But touch not Hector, Hector is my due.

  Tho’ Jove in thunder should command the war,

  Be just, consult my glory, and forbear. 115

  The fleet once saved, desist from farther chase,

  Nor lead to Ilion’s walls the Grecian race;

  Some adverse God thy rashness may destroy;

  Some God, like Phœbus, ever kind to Troy.

  Let Greece, redeem’d from this destructive strait, 120

  Do her own work, and leave the rest to fate.

  Oh! would to all th’ immortal powers above,

  Apollo, Pallas, and almighty Jove!

  That not one Trojan might be left alive,

  And not a Greek of all the race survive; 125

  Might only we the vast destruction shun,

  And only we destroy th’ accursed town!’

  Such conf’rence held the Chiefs: while, on the strand,

  Great Jove with conquest crown’d the Trojan band.

  Ajax no more the sounding storm sustain’d, 130

  So thick the darts an iron tempest rain’d:

  On his tired arm the weighty buckler hung;

  His hollow helm with falling jav’lins rung:

  His breath, in quick short pantings, comes and goes;

  And painful sweat from all his members flows. 135

  Spent and o’erpower’d, he barely breathes at most;

  Yet scarce an army stirs him from his post:

  Dangers on dangers all around him grow,

  And toil to toil, and woe succeeds to woe.

  Say, Muses, throned above the starry frame, 140

  How first the navy blazed with Trojan flame?

  Stern Hector waved his sword, and, standing near

  Where furious Ajax plied his ashen spear,

  Full on the lance a stroke so justly sped,

  That the broad falchion lopp’d its brazen head: 145

  His pointless spear the warrior shakes in vain;

  The brazen head falls sounding on the plain.

  Great Ajax saw, and own’d the hand divine,

  Confessing Jove, and trembling at the sign;

  Warn’d he retreats. Then swift from all sides pour 150

  The hissing brands; thick streams the fiery shower;

  O’er the high stern the curling volumes rise,

  And sheets of rolling smoke involve the skies.

  Divine Achilles view’d the rising flames,

  And smote his thigh, and thus aloud exclaims: 155