William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

by William Cowper

Hurl’d at Meriones with ardent hope

  To pierce him, while, with nimble steps and short

  Behind his buckler made, he paced the field; 740

  But, warn’d of its approach, Meriones

  Bow’d low his head, shunning it, and the spear

  Behind him pierced the soil; there quivering stood

  The weapon, vain, though from a vigorous arm,

  Till spent by slow degrees its fury slept. 745

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  Indignant then Æneas thus exclaim’d.

  411 Meriones! I sent thee such a spear

  As reaching thee, should have for ever marr’d 750

  Thy step, accomplish’d dancer as thou art.

  To whom Meriones spear-famed replied.

  Æneas! thou wilt find the labor hard

  How great soe’er thy might, to quell the force

  Of all opposers. Thou art also doom’d 755

  Thyself to die; and may but spear of mine

  Well-aim’d once strike thee full, what strength soe’er

  Or magnanimity be thine to boast,

  Thy glory in that moment thou resign’st

  To me, thy soul to Pluto steed-renown’d. 760

  He said, but him Patroclus sharp reproved.

  Why speaks Meriones, although in fight

  Approved, thus proudly? Nay, my gallant friend!

  The Trojans will not for reproach of ours

  Renounce the body. Blood must first be spilt. 765

  Tongues in debate, but hands in war decide;

  Deeds therefore now, not wordy vaunts, we need.

  So saying he led the way, whom follow’d close

  Godlike Meriones. As from the depth

  Of some lone wood that clothes the mountain’s side 770

  The fellers at their toil are heard remote,

  So, from the face of Ilium’s ample plain

  Reverberated, was the din of brass

  And of tough targets heard by falchions huge

  Hard-smitten, and by spears of double-edge. 775

  None then, no, not the quickest to discern,

  Had known divine Sarpedon, from his head

  To his foot-sole with mingled blood and dust

  Polluted, and o’erwhelm’d with weapons. They

  Around the body swarm’d. As hovel-flies 780

  In spring-time buzz around the brimming pails

  With milk bedew’d, so they around the dead.

  Nor Jove averted once his glorious eyes

  From that dread contest, but with watchful note

  Marked all, the future death in battle deep 785

  Pondering of Patroclus, whether him

  412 Hector should even now slay on divine

  Sarpedon, and despoil him of his arms,

  Or he should still that arduous strife prolong.

  This counsel gain’d as eligible most 790

  At length his preference: that the valiant friend

  Of Peleus’ son should yet again compel

  The Trojan host with Hector brazen-mail’d

  To Ilium, slaughtering numerous by the way.

  First then, with fears unmanly he possess’d 795

  The heart of Hector; mounting to his seat

  He turn’d to flight himself, and bade his host

  Fly also; for he knew Jove’s purpose changed.

  Thenceforth, no longer even Lycia’s host

  Endured, but all fled scatter’d, seeing pierced 800

  Their sovereign through his heart, and heap’d with dead;

  For numerous, while Saturnian Jove the fight

  Held in suspense, had on his body fallen.

  At once the Grecians of his dazzling arms

  Despoil’d Sarpedon, which the Myrmidons 805

  By order of Menœtius’ valiant son

  Bore thence into the fleet. Meantime his will

  The Thunderer to Apollo thus express’d.

  Phœbus, my son, delay not; from beneath

  Yon hill of weapons drawn cleanse from his blood 810

  Sarpedon’s corse; then, bearing him remote,

  Lave him in waters of the running stream,

  With oils divine anoint, and in attire

  Immortal clothe him. Last, to Death and Sleep,

  Swift bearers both, twin-born, deliver him; 815

  For hence to Lycia’s opulent abodes

  They shall transport him quickly, where, with rites

  Funereal, his next kindred and his friends

  Shall honor him, a pillar and a tomb

  (The dead man’s portion) rearing to his name. 820

  He ceased; nor was Apollo slow to hear

  His father’s will, but, from the Idæan heights

  413 Descending swift into the dreadful field,

  Godlike Sarpedon’s body from beneath

  The hill of weapons drew, which, borne remote, 825

  He laved in waters of the running stream,

  With oils ambrosial bathed, and clothed in robes

  Immortal. Then to Death and gentle Sleep,

  Swift-bearers both, twin-born, he gave the charge,

  Who placed it soon in Lycia’s wealthy realm. 830

  Meantime Patroclus, calling to his steeds,

  And to Automedon, the Trojans chased

  And Lycians, on his own destruction bent

  Infatuate; heedless of his charge received

  From Peleus’ son, which, well perform’d, had saved 835

  The hero from his miserable doom.

  But Jove’s high purpose evermore prevails

  Against the thoughts of man; he turns to flight

  The bravest, and the victory takes with ease

  E’en from the Chief whom he impels himself 840

  To battle, as he now this Chief impell’d.

  Who, then, Patroclus! first, who last by thee

  Fell slain, what time thyself was call’d to die?

  Adrastus first, then Perimus he slew,

  Offspring of Megas, then Autonoüs, 845

  Echechlus, Melanippus, and Epistor,

  Pylartes, Mulius, Elasus. All these

  He slew, and from the field chased all beside.

  Then, doubtless, had Achaia’s sons prevail’d

  To take proud-gated Troy, such havoc made 850

  He with his spear, but that the son of Jove

  Apollo, on a tower’s conspicuous height

  Station’d, devoted him for Ilium’s sake.

  Thrice on a buttress of the lofty wall

  Patroclus mounted, and him thrice the God 855

  With hands immortal his resplendent shield

  Smiting, struck down again; but when he rush’d

  A fourth time, demon-like, to the assault,

  The King of radiant shafts him, stern, rebuked.

  Patroclus, warrior of renown, retire! 860

  414 The fates ordain not that imperial Troy

  Stoop to thy spear, nor to the spear itself

  Of Peleus’ son, though mightier far than thou.

  He said, and Menœtiades the wrath

  Of shaft-arm’d Phœbus shunning, far retired. 865

  But in the Scæan gate Hector his steeds

  Detain’d, uncertain whether thence to drive

  Amid the warring multitude again,

  Or, loud commandment issuing, to collect

  His host within the walls. Him musing long 870

  Apollo, clad in semblance of a Chief

  Youthful and valiant, join’d. Asius he seem’d

  Equestrian Hector’s uncle, brother born

  Of Hecuba the queen, and Dymas’ son,

  Who on the Sangar’s banks in Phrygia dwelt. 875

  Apollo, so disguised, him thus bespake.

  Why, Hector, hast thou left the fight? this sloth

  Not well befits thee. Oh that I as far

  Thee pass’d in force as thou transcendest me,

  Then, not unpunish’d long, should’st thou
retire; 880

  But haste, and with thy coursers solid-hoof’d

  Seek out Patroclus, him perchance to slay,

  Should Phœbus have decreed that glory thine.

  So saying, Apollo join’d the host again.

  Then noble Hector bade his charioteer 885

  Valiant Cebriones his coursers lash

  Back into battle, while the God himself

  Entering the multitude confounded sore

  The Argives, victory conferring proud

  And glory on Hector and the host of Troy. 890

  But Hector, leaving all beside unslain,

  Furious impell’d his coursers solid-hoof’d

  Against Patroclus; on the other side

  Patroclus from his chariot to the ground

  Leap’d ardent; in his left a spear he bore, 895

  And in his right a marble fragment rough,

  Large as his grasp. With full collected might

  He hurl’d it; neither was the weapon slow

  415 To whom he had mark’d, or sent in vain.

  He smote the charioteer of Hector, bold 900

  Cebriones, King Priam’s spurious son,

  Full on the forehead, while he sway’d the reins.

  The bone that force withstood not, but the rock

  With ragged points beset dash’d both his brows

  In pieces, and his eyes fell at his feet. 905

  He diver-like, from his exalted stand

  Behind the steeds pitch’d headlong, and expired;

  O’er whom, Patroclus of equestrian fame!

  Thou didst exult with taunting speech severe.

  Ye Gods, with what agility he dives! 910

  Ah! it were well if in the fishy deep

  This man were occupied; he might no few

  With oysters satisfy, although the waves

  Were churlish, plunging headlong from his bark

  As easily as from his chariot here. 915

  So then — in Troy, it seems, are divers too!

  So saying, on bold Cebriones he sprang

  With all a lion’s force, who, while the folds

  He ravages, is wounded in the breast,

  And, victim of his own fierce courage, dies. 920

  So didst thou spring, Patroclus! to despoil

  Cebriones, and Hector opposite

  Leap’d also to the ground. Then contest such

  For dead Cebriones those two between

  Arose, as in the lofty mountain-tops 925

  Two lions wage, contending for a deer

  New-slain, both hunger-pinch’d and haughty both.

  So for Cebriones, alike in arms

  Expert, brave Hector and Patroclus strove

  To pierce each other with the ruthless spear. 930

  First, Hector seized his head, nor loosed his hold,

  Patroclus, next, his feet, while all beside

  Of either host in furious battle join’d.

  As when the East wind and the South contend

  To shake some deep wood on the mountain’s side, 935

  Or beech, or ash, or rugged cornel old.

  416 With stormy violence the mingled boughs

  Smite and snap short each other, crashing loud;

  So, Trojans and Achaians, mingling, slew

  Mutual, while neither felt a wish to fly. 940

  Around Cebriones stood many a spear,

  And many a shaft sent smartly from the nerve

  Implanted deep, and many a stone of grasp

  Enormous sounded on their batter’d shields

  Who fought to gain him. He, in eddies lost 945

  Of sable dust, with his huge trunk huge space

  O’erspread, nor steeds nor chariots heeded more.

  While yet the sun ascending climb’d the heavens,

  Their darts flew equal, and the people fell;

  But when he westward journey’d, by a change 950

  Surpassing hope the Grecians then prevail’d.

  They drew Cebriones the hero forth

  From all those weapons, and his armor stripp’d

  At leisure, distant from the battle’s roar.

  Then sprang Patroclus on the Trojan host; 955

  Thrice, like another Mars, he sprang with shouts

  Tremendous, and nine warriors thrice he slew.

  But when the fourth time, demon-like, he rush’d

  Against them, then, oh then, too manifest

  The consummation of thy days approach’d 960

  Patroclus! whom Apollo, terror-clad

  Met then in battle. He the coming God

  Through all that multitude knew not, such gloom

  Impenetrable him involved around.

  Behind him close he stood, and with his palms 965

  Expanded on the spine and shoulders broad

  Smote him; his eyes swam dizzy at the stroke.

  Then Phœbus from his head his helmet dash’d

  To earth; sonorous at the feet it roll’d

  Of many a prancing steed, and all the crest 970

  Defilement gather’d gross of dust and blood,

  Then first; till then, impossible; for how

  Should dust the tresses of that helmet shame

  With which Achilles fighting fenced his head

  417 Illustrious, and his graceful brows divine? 975

  But Jove now made it Hector’s; he awhile

  Bore it, himself to swift perdition doom’d

  His spear brass-mounted, ponderous, huge and long,

  Fell shiver’d from his grasp. His shield that swept

  His ancle, with its belt dropp’d from his arm, 980

  And Phœbus loosed the corselet from his breast.

  Confusion seized his brain; his noble limbs

  Quaked under him, and panic-stunn’d he stood.

  Then came a Dardan Chief, who from behind

  Enforced a pointed lance into his back 985

  Between the shoulders; Panthus’ son was he,

  Euphorbus, famous for equestrian skill,

  For spearmanship, and in the rapid race

  Past all of equal age. He twenty men

  (Although a learner yet of martial feats, 990

  And by his steeds then first to battle borne)

  Dismounted. He, Patroclus, mighty Chief!

  First threw a lance at thee, which yet life

  Quell’d not; then snatching hasty from the wound

  His ashen beam, he ran into the crowd, 995

  Nor dared confront in fight even the unarm’d

  Patroclus. But Patroclus, by the lance,

  And by the stroke of an immortal hand

  Subdued, fell back toward his ranks again.

  Then, soon as Hector the retreat perceived 1000

  Of brave Patroclus wounded, issuing forth

  From his own phalanx, he approach’d and drove

  A spear right through his body at the waist.

  Sounding he fell. Loud groan’d Achaia’s host.

  As when the lion and the sturdy boar 1005

  Contend in battle on the mountain-tops

  For some scant rivulet, thirst-parch’d alike,

  Ere long the lion quells the panting boar;

  So Priameian Hector, spear in hand,

  Slew Menœtiades the valiant slayer 1010

  Of multitudes, and thus in accents wing’d,

  With fierce delight exulted in his fall.

  418 It was thy thought, Patroclus, to have laid

  Our city waste, and to have wafted hence

  Our wives and daughters to thy native land, 1015

  Their day of liberty for ever set.

  Fool! for their sakes the feet of Hector’s steeds

  Fly into battle, and myself excel,

  For their sakes, all our bravest of the spear,

  That I may turn from them that evil hour 1020

  Necessitous. But thou art vulture’s food,

  Unhappy youth! all valiant as he is,

  Achilles
hath no succor given to thee,

  Who when he sent the forth whither himself

  Would not, thus doubtless gave thee oft in charge: 1025

  Ah, well beware, Patroclus, glorious Chief!

  That thou revisit not these ships again,

  Till first on hero-slaughterer Hector’s breast

  Thou cleave his bloody corselet. So he spake,

  And with vain words thee credulous beguiled. 1030

  To whom Patroclus, mighty Chief, with breath

  Drawn faintly, and dying, thou didst thus reply.

  Now, Hector, boast! now glory! for the son

  Of Saturn and Apollo, me with ease

  Vanquishing, whom they had themselves disarm’d, 1035

  Have made the victory thine; else, twenty such

  As thou, had fallen by my victorious spear.

  Me Phœbus and my ruthless fate combined

  To slay; these foremost; but of mortal men

  Euphorbus, and thy praise is only third. 1040

  I tell thee also, and within thy heart

  Repose it deep — thou shalt not long survive;

  But, even now, fate, and a violent death

  Attend thee by Achilles’ hands ordain’d

  To perish, by Æacides the brave. 1045

  So saying, the shades of death him wrapp’d around.

  Down into Ades from his limbs dismiss’d,

  419 His spirit fled sorrowful, of youth’s prime

  And vigorous manhood suddenly bereft

  Then, him though dead, Hector again bespake. 1050

  Patroclus! these prophetic strains of death

  At hand, and fate, why hast thou sung to me?

  May not the son of Thetis azure-hair’d,

  Achilles, perish first by spear of mine?

  He said; then pressing with his heel the trunk 1055

  Supine, and backward thursting it, he drew

  His glittering weapon from the wound, nor stay’d,

  But lance in hand, the godlike charioteer

  Pursued of swift Æacides, on fire

  To smite Automedon; but him the steeds 1060

  Immortal, rapid, by the Gods conferr’d

  (A glorious gift) on Peleus, snatch’d away.

  ARGUMENT OF THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK.

  Sharp contest ensues around the body of Patroclus. Hector puts on the armor of Achilles. Menelaus, having dispatched Antilochus to Achilles with news of the death of Patroclus, returns to the battle, and, together with Meriones, bears Patroclus off the field, while the Ajaces cover their retreat.

  BOOK XVII.