William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

by William Cowper

  Chok’d him; and now had Menelaus won

  Deathless renown, dragging him off the field,

  But Venus, foam-sprung Goddess, feeling quick

  His peril imminent, snapp’d short the brace 445

  Though stubborn, by a slaughter’d ox supplied,

  And the void helmet follow’d as he pull’d.

  079 That prize the Hero, whirling it aloft,

  Threw to his Greeks, who caught it and secured,

  Then with vindictive strides he rush’d again 450

  On Paris, spear in hand; but him involved

  In mist opaque Venus with ease divine

  Snatch’d thence, and in his chamber placed him, fill’d

  With scents odorous, spirit-soothing sweets.

  Nor stay’d the Goddess, but at once in quest 455

  Of Helen went; her on a lofty tower

  She found, where many a damsel stood of Troy,

  And twitch’d her fragrant robe. In form she seem’d

  An ancient matron, who, while Helen dwelt

  In Lacedæmon, her unsullied wool 460

  Dress’d for her, faithfullest of all her train.

  Like her disguised the Goddess thus began.

  Haste — Paris calls thee — on his sculptured couch,

  (Sparkling alike his looks and his attire)

  He waits thy wish’d return. Thou wouldst not dream 465

  That he had fought; he rather seems prepared

  For dance, or after dance, for soft repose.

  So saying, she tumult raised in Helen’s mind.

  Yet soon as by her symmetry of neck,

  By her love-kindling breasts and luminous eyes 470

  She knew the Goddess, her she thus bespake.

  Ah whence, deceitful deity! thy wish

  Now to ensnare me? Wouldst thou lure me, say,

  To some fair city of Mæonian name

  Or Phrygian, more remote from Sparta still? 475

  Hast thou some human favorite also there?

  Is it because Atrides hath prevailed

  To vanquish Paris, and would bear me home

  Unworthy as I am, that thou attempt’st

  Again to cheat me? Go thyself — sit thou 480

  Beside him — for his sake renounce the skies;

  Watch him, weep for him; till at length his wife

  He deign to make thee, or perchance his slave.

  I go not (now to go were shame indeed)

  To dress his couch; nor will I be the jest 485

  080 Of all my sex in Ilium. Oh! my griefs

  Are infinite, and more than I can bear.

  To whom, the foam-sprung Goddess, thus incensed.

  Ah wretch! provoke not me; lest in my wrath

  Abandoning thee, I not hate thee less 490

  Than now I fondly love thee, and beget

  Such detestation of thee in all hearts,

  Grecian and Trojan, that thou die abhorr’d.

  The Goddess ceased. Jove’s daughter, Helen, fear’d,

  And, in her lucid veil close wrapt around, 495

  Silent retired, of all those Trojan dames

  Unseen, and Venus led, herself, the way.

  Soon then as Alexander’s fair abode

  They reach’d, her maidens quick their tasks resumed,

  And she to her own chamber lofty-roof’d 500

  Ascended, loveliest of her sex. A seat

  For Helen, daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d,

  To Paris opposite, the Queen of smiles

  Herself disposed; but with averted eyes

  She sat before him, and him keen reproach’d. 505

  Thou hast escaped. — Ah would that thou hadst died

  By that heroic arm, mine husband’s erst!

  Thou once didst vaunt thee in address and strength

  Superior. Go then — challenge yet again

  The warlike Menelaüs forth in fight. 510

  But hold. The hero of the amber locks

  Provoke no more so rashly, lest the point

  Of his victorious spear soon stretch thee dead.

  She ended, to whom Paris thus replied.

  Ah Helen, wound me not with taunt severe! 515

  Me, Menelaüs, by Minerva’s aid,

  Hath vanquish’d now, who may hereafter, him.

  We also have our Gods. But let us love.

  For never since the day when thee I bore

  From pleasant Lacedæmon o’er the waves 520

  To Cranäe’s fair isle, and first enjoy’d

  Thy beauty, loved I as I love thee now,

  Or felt such sweetness of intense desire.

  081 He spake, and sought his bed, whom follow’d soon

  Jove’s daughter, reconciled to his embrace. 525

  But Menelaüs like a lion ranged

  The multitude, inquiring far and near

  For Paris lost. Yet neither Trojan him

  Nor friend of Troy could show, whom, else, through love

  None had conceal’d, for him as death itself 530

  All hated, but his going none had seen.

  Amidst them all then spake the King of men.

  Trojans, and Dardans, and allies of Troy!

  The warlike Menelaüs hath prevailed,

  As is most plain. Now therefore bring ye forth 535

  Helen with all her treasures, also bring

  Such large amercement as is meet, a sum

  To be remember’d in all future times.

  So spake Atrides, and Achaia’s host

  With loud applause confirm’d the monarch’s claim. 540

  ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH BOOK.

  In a Council of the Gods, a dispute arises between Jupiter and Juno, which is at last compromised, Jove consenting to dispatch Minerva with a charge to incite some Trojan to a violation of the truce. Minerva descends for that purpose, and in the form of Laodocus, a son of Priam, exhorts Pandarus to shoot at Menelaus, and succeeds. Menelaus is wounded, and Agamemnon having consigned him to the care of Machaon, goes forth to perform the duties of commander-in-chief, in the encouragement of his host to battle. The battle begins.

  BOOK IV.

  Now, on the golden floor of Jove’s abode

  The Gods all sat consulting; Hebe them,

  Graceful, with nectar served; they pledging each

  His next, alternate quaff’d from cups of gold,

  And at their ease reclined, look’d down on Troy, 5

  When, sudden, Jove essay’d by piercing speech

  Invidious, to enkindle Juno’s ire.

  Two Goddesses on Menelaus’ part

  Confederate stand, Juno in Argos known,

  Pallas in Alalcomene; yet they 10

  Sequester’d sit, look on, and are amused.

  Not so smile-loving Venus; she, beside

  Her champion station’d, saves him from his fate,

  And at this moment, by her aid, he lives.

  But now, since victory hath proved the lot 15

  Of warlike Menelaus, weigh ye well

  The matter; shall we yet the ruinous strife

  Prolong between the nations, or consent

  To give them peace? should peace your preference win,

  And prove alike acceptable to all, 20

  Stand Ilium, and let Menelaus bear

  Helen of Argos back to Greece again.

  086 He ended; Juno and Minerva heard,

  Low-murmuring deep disgust; for side by side

  They forging sat calamity to Troy. 25

  Minerva through displeasure against Jove

  Nought utter’d, for with rage her bosom boil’d;

  But Juno check’d not hers, who thus replied.

  What word hath pass’d thy lips, Jove most severe!

  How? wouldst thou render fruitless all my pains? 30

  The sweat that I have pour’d? my steeds themselves

  Have fainted while I gather’d Greece in arms

  For punishment of Priam and his sons.

  Do
it. But small thy praise shall be in heaven.

  Then her the Thunderer answer’d sore displeased. 35

  Ah shameless! how have Priam and his sons

  So much transgress’d against thee, that thou burn’st

  With ceaseless rage to ruin populous Troy?

  Go, make thine entrance at her lofty gates,

  Priam and all his house, and all his host 40

  Alive devour; then, haply, thou wilt rest;

  Do even as thou wilt, that this dispute

  Live not between us a consuming fire

  For ever. But attend; mark well the word.

  When I shall also doom in future time 45

  Some city to destruction, dear to thee,

  Oppose me not, but give my fury way

  As I give way to thine, not pleased myself,

  Yet not unsatisfied, so thou be pleased.

  For of all cities of the sons of men, 50

  And which the sun and stars from heaven behold,

  Me sacred Troy most pleases, Priam me

  Most, and the people of the warrior King.

  Nor without cause. They feed mine altar well;

  Libation there, and steam of savory scent 55

  Fail not, the tribute which by lot is ours.

  Him answer’d, then, the Goddess ample-eyed,

  Majestic Juno: Three fair cities me,

  087 Of all the earth, most interest and engage,

  Mycenæ for magnificence renown’d, 60

  Argos, and Sparta. Them, when next thy wrath

  Shall be inflamed against them, lay thou waste;

  I will not interpose on their behalf;

  Thou shalt not hear me murmur; what avail

  Complaint or force against thy matchless arm? 65

  Yet were it most unmeet that even I

  Should toil in vain; I also boast a birth

  Celestial; Saturn deeply wise, thy Sire,

  Is also mine; our origin is one.

  Thee I acknowledge Sovereign, yet account 70

  Myself entitled by a twofold claim

  To veneration both from Gods and men,

  The daughter of Jove’s sire, and spouse of Jove.

  Concession mutual therefore both thyself

  Befits and me, whom when the Gods perceive 75

  Disposed to peace, they also shall accord.

  Come then. — To yon dread field dispatch in haste

  Minerva, with command that she incite

  The Trojans first to violate their oath

  By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks. 80

  So Juno; nor the sire of all refused,

  But in wing’d accents thus to Pallas spake.

  Begone; swift fly to yonder field; incite

  The Trojans first to violate their oath

  By some fresh insult on the exulting Greeks. 85

  The Goddess heard, and what she wish’d, enjoin’d,

  Down-darted swift from the Olympian heights,

  In form a meteor, such as from his hand

  Not seldom Jove dismisses, beaming bright

  And breaking into stars, an omen sent 90

  To mariners, or to some numerous host.

  Such Pallas seem’d, and swift descending, dropp’d

  Full in the midst between them. They with awe

  That sign portentous and with wonder view’d,

  Achaians both and Trojans, and his next 95

  The soldier thus bespake. Now either war

  088 And dire hostility again shall flame,

  Or Jove now gives us peace. Both are from Jove.

  So spake the soldiery; but she the form

  Taking of brave Laodocus, the son 100

  Of old Antenor, throughout all the ranks

  Sought godlike Pandarus. Ere long she found

  The valiant son illustrious of Lycaon,

  Standing encompass’d by his dauntless troops,

  Broad-shielded warriors, from Æsepus’ stream 105

  His followers; to his side the Goddess came,

  And in wing’d accents ardent him bespake.

  Brave offspring of Lycaon, is there hope

  That thou wilt hear my counsel? darest thou slip

  A shaft at Menelaus? much renown 110

  Thou shalt and thanks from all the Trojans win,

  But most of all, from Paris, prince of Troy.

  From him illustrious gifts thou shalt receive

  Doubtless, when Menelaus he shall see

  The martial son of Atreus by a shaft 115

  Subdued of thine, placed on his funeral pile.

  Come. Shoot at Menelaus, glorious Chief!

  But vow to Lycian Phœbus bow-renown’d

  A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock,

  To fair Zeleia’s walls once safe restored. 120

  So Pallas spake, to whom infatuate he

  Listening, uncased at once his polished bow.

  089 That bow, the laden brows of a wild goat

  Salacious had supplied; him on a day

  Forth-issuing from his cave, in ambush placed 125

  He wounded with an arrow to his breast

  Dispatch’d, and on the rock supine he fell.

  Each horn had from his head tall growth attain’d,

  Full sixteen palms; them shaven smooth the smith

  Had aptly join’d, and tipt their points with gold. 130

  That bow he strung, then, stooping, planted firm

  The nether horn, his comrades bold the while

  Screening him close with shields, lest ere the prince

  Were stricken, Menelaus brave in arms,

  The Greeks with fierce assault should interpose. 135

  He raised his quiver’s lid; he chose a dart

  Unflown, full-fledged, and barb’d with pangs of death.

  He lodged in haste the arrow on the string,

  And vow’d to Lycian Phœbus bow-renown’d

  A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock, 140

  To fair Zeleia’s walls once safe restored.

  Compressing next nerve and notch’d arrow-head

  He drew back both together, to his pap

  Drew home the nerve, the barb home to his bow,

  And when the horn was curved to a wide arch, 145

  He twang’d it. Whizz’d the bowstring, and the reed

  Leap’d off, impatient for the distant throng.

  Thee, Menelaus, then the blessed Gods

  Forgat not; Pallas huntress of the spoil,

  Thy guardian then, baffled the cruel dart. 150

  Far as a mother wafts the fly aside

  090 That haunts her slumbering babe, so far she drove

  Its course aslant, directing it herself

  Against the golden clasps that join’d his belt;

  For there the doubled hauberk interposed. 155

  The bitter arrow plunged into his belt.

  It pierced his broider’d belt, stood fixt within

  His twisted hauberk, nor the interior quilt,

  Though penetrable least to arrow-points

  And his best guard, withheld it, but it pass’d 160

  That also, and the Hero’s skin inscribed.

  Quick flowed a sable current from the wound.

  As when a Carian or Mæonian maid

  Impurples ivory ordain’d to grace

  The cheek of martial steed; safe stored it lies, 165

  By many a Chief desired, but proves at last

  The stately trapping of some prince, the pride

  Of his high pamper’d steed, nor less his own;

  Such, Menelaus, seem’d thy shapely thighs,

  Thy legs, thy feet, stained with thy trickling blood. 170

  Shudder’d King Agamemnon when he saw

  The blood fast trickling from the wound, nor less

  Shudder’d himself the bleeding warrior bold.

  But neck and barb observing from the flesh

  Extant, he gather’d heart, and lived again. 175

 
The royal Agamemnon, sighing, grasp’d

  The hand of Menelaus, and while all

  Their followers sigh’d around them, thus began.

  091 I swore thy death, my brother, when I swore

  This truce, and set thee forth in sight of Greeks 180

  And Trojans, our sole champion; for the foe

  Hath trodden underfoot his sacred oath,

  And stained it with thy blood. But not in vain,

  The truce was ratified, the blood of lambs

  Poured forth, libation made, and right hands join’d 185

  In holy confidence. The wrath of Jove

  May sleep, but will not always; they shall pay

  Dear penalty; their own obnoxious heads

  Shall be the mulct, their children and their wives.

  For this I know, know surely; that a day 190

  Shall come, when Ilium, when the warlike King

  Of Ilium and his host shall perish all.

  Saturnian Jove high-throned, dwelling in heaven,

  Resentful of this outrage, then shall shake

  His storm-clad Ægis over them. He will; 195

  I speak no fable. Time shall prove me true.

  But, oh my Menelaus, dire distress

  Awaits me, if thy close of life be come,

  And thou must die. Then ignominy foul

  Shall hunt me back to Argos long-desired; 200

  For then all here will recollect their home,

  And, hope abandoning, will Helen yield

  To be the boast of Priam, and of Troy.

  So shall our toils be vain, and while thy bones

  Shall waste these clods beneath, Troy’s haughty sons 205

  The tomb of Menelaus glory-crown’d

  Insulting barbarous, shall scoff at me.

  So may Atrides, shall they say, perform

  His anger still as he performed it here,

  Whither he led an unsuccessful host, 210

  Whence he hath sail’d again without the spoils,

  And where he left his brother’s bones to rot.

  So shall the Trojan speak; then open earth

  092 Her mouth, and hide me in her deepest gulfs!

  But him, the hero of the golden locks 215

  Thus cheer’d. My brother, fear not, nor infect

  With fear the Grecians; the sharp-pointed reed

  Hath touch’d no vital part. The broider’d zone,

  The hauberk, and the tough interior quilt,