William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

by William Cowper

  Dispatchful they applied; down fell the trees

  With crash sonorous. Splitting, next, the trunks,

  They bound them on the mules; they, with firm hoofs 150

  The hill-side stamping, through the thickets rush’d

  Desirous of the plain. Each man his log

  (For so the armor-bearer of the King

  Of Crete, Meriones, had them enjoin’d)

  Bore after them, and each his burthen cast 155

  Down on the beach regular, where a tomb

  Of ample size Achilles for his friend

  Patroclus had, and for himself, design’d.

  Much fuel thrown together, side by side

  There down they sat, and his command at once 160

  Achilles issued to his warriors bold,

  That all should gird their armor, and the steeds

  Join to their chariots; undelaying each

  Complied, and in bright arms stood soon array’d.

  Then mounted combatants and charioteers. 165

  First, moved the chariots, next, the infantry

  Proceeded numerous, amid whom his friends,

  Bearing the body of Patroclus, went.

  They poll’d their heads, and cover’d him with hair

  Shower’d over all his body, while behind 170

  Noble Achilles march’d, the hero’s head

  560 Sustaining sorrowful, for to the realms

  Of Ades a distinguish’d friend he sent.

  And now, arriving on the ground erewhile

  Mark’d by Achilles, setting down the dead, 175

  They heap’d the fuel quick, a lofty pile.

  But Peleus’ son, on other thoughts intent,

  Retiring from the funeral pile, shore off

  His amber ringlets, whose exuberant growth

  Sacred to Sperchius he had kept unshorn, 180

  And looking o’er the gloomy deep, he said.

  Sperchius! in vain Peleus my father vow’d

  That, hence returning to my native land,

  These ringlets shorn I should present to thee

  With a whole hecatomb, and should, beside, 185

  Rams offer fifty at thy fountain head

  In thy own field, at thy own fragrant shrine.

  So vow’d the hoary Chief, whose wishes thou

  Leavest unperform’d. Since, therefore, never more

  I see my native home, the hero these 190

  Patroclus takes down with him to the shades.

  He said, and filling with his hair the hand

  Of his dead friend, the sorrows of his train

  Waken’d afresh. And now the lamp of day

  Westering apace, had left them still in tears, 195

  Had not Achilles suddenly address’d

  King Agamemnon, standing at his side.

  Atrides! (for Achaia’s sons thy word

  Will readiest execute) we may with grief

  Satiate ourselves hereafter; but, the host 200

  561 Dispersing from the pile, now give command

  That they prepare repast; ourselves, to whom

  These labors in peculiar appertain

  Will finish them; but bid the Chiefs abide.

  Which when imperial Agamemnon heard, 205

  He scatter’d instant to their several ships

  The people; but the burial-dressers thence

  Went not; they, still abiding, heap’d the pile.

  A hundred feet of breadth from side to side

  They gave to it, and on the summit placed 210

  With sorrowing hearts the body of the dead.

  Many a fat sheep, with many an ox full-horn’d

  They flay’d before the pile, busy their task

  Administering, and Peleus’ son the fat

  Taking from every victim, overspread 215

  Complete the body with it of his friend

  Patroclus, and the flay’d beasts heap’d around.

  Then, placing flagons on the pile, replete

  With oil and honey, he inclined their mouths

  Toward the bier, and slew and added next, 220

  Deep-groaning and in haste, four martial steeds.

  Nine dogs the hero at his table fed,

  Of which beheading two, their carcases

  He added also. Last, twelve gallant sons

  Of noble Trojans slaying (for his heart 225

  Teem’d with great vengeance) he applied the force

  Of hungry flames that should devour the whole,

  Then, mourning loud, by name his friend invoked.

  Rejoice, Patroclus! even in the shades,

  Behold my promise to thee all fulfill’d! 230

  Twelve gallant sons of Trojans famed in arms,

  Together with thyself, are all become

  Food for these fires: but fire shall never feed

  On Hector; him I destine to the dogs.

  So threaten’d he; but him no dogs devour’d; 235

  562 Them, day and night, Jove’s daughter Venus chased

  Afar, and smooth’d the hero o’er with oils

  Of rosy scent ambrosial, lest his corse,

  Behind Achilles’ chariot dragg’d along

  So rudely, should be torn; and Phœbus hung 240

  A veil of sable clouds from heaven to earth,

  O’ershadowing broad the space where Hector lay,

  Lest parching suns intense should stiffen him.

  But the pile kindled not. Then, Peleus’ son

  Seeking a place apart, two Winds in prayer 245

  Boreas invoked and Zephyrus, to each

  Vowing large sacrifice. With earnest suit

  (Libation pouring from a golden cup)

  Their coming he implored, that so the flames

  Kindling, incontinent might burn the dead. 250

  Iris, his supplications hearing, swift

  Convey’d them to the Winds; they, in the hall

  Banqueting of the heavy-blowing West

  Sat frequent. Iris, sudden at the gate

  Appear’d; they, at the sight upstarting all, 255

  Invited each the Goddess to himself.

  But she refused a seat and thus she spake.

  I sit not here. Borne over Ocean’s stream

  Again, to Æthiopia’s land I go

  Where hecatombs are offer’d to the Gods, 260

  Which, with the rest, I also wish to share.

  But Peleus’ son, earnest, the aid implores

  Of Boreas and of Zephyrus the loud,

  Vowing large sacrifice if ye will fan

  Briskly the pile on which Patroclus lies 265

  By all Achaia’s warriors deep deplored.

  She said, and went. Then suddenly arose

  The Winds, and, roaring, swept the clouds along.

  First, on the sea they blew; big rose the waves

  Beneath the blast. At fruitful Troy arrived 270

  Vehement on the pile they fell, and dread

  563 On all sides soon a crackling blaze ensued.

  All night, together blowing shrill, they drove

  The sheeted flames wide from the funeral pile,

  And all night long, a goblet in his hand 275

  From golden beakers fill’d, Achilles stood

  With large libations soaking deep the soil,

  And calling on the spirit of his friend.

  As some fond father mourns, burning the bones

  Of his own son, who, dying on the eve 280

  Of his glad nuptials, hath his parents left

  O’erwhelm’d with inconsolable distress,

  So mourn’d Achilles, his companion’s bones

  Burning, and pacing to and fro the field

  Beside the pile with many a sigh profound. 285

  But when the star, day’s harbinger, arose,

  Soon after whom, in saffron vest attired

  The morn her beams diffuses o’er the sea,

  The pile, then wasted, ceased to flame, and then

 
; Back flew the Winds over the Thracian deep 290

  Rolling the flood before them as they pass’d.

  And now Pelides lying down apart

  From the funereal pile, slept, but not long,

  Though weary; waken’d by the stir and din

  Of Agamemnon’s train. He sat erect, 295

  And thus the leaders of the host address’d.

  Atrides, and ye potentates who rule

  The whole Achaian host! first quench the pile

  Throughout with generous wine, where’er the fire

  Hath seized it. We will then the bones collect 300

  Of Menœtiades, which shall with ease

  Be known, though many bones lie scatter’d near,

  Since in the middle pile Patroclus lay,

  But wide apart and on its verge we burn’d

  The steeds and Trojans, a promiscuous heap. 305

  Them so collected in a golden vase

  We will dispose, lined with a double cawl,

  Till I shall, also, to my home below.

  I wish not now a tomb of amplest bounds,

  564 But such as may suffice, which yet in height 310

  The Grecians and in breadth shall much augment

  Hereafter, who, survivors of my fate,

  Shall still remain in the Achaian fleet.

  So spake Pelides, and the Chiefs complied.

  Where’er the pile had blazed, with generous wine 315

  They quench’d it, and the hills of ashes sank.

  Then, weeping, to a golden vase, with lard

  Twice lined, they gave their gentle comrade’s bones

  Fire-bleach’d, and lodging safely in his tent

  The relics, overspread them with a veil. 320

  Designing, next, the compass of the tomb,

  They mark’d its boundary with stones, then fill’d

  The wide enclosure hastily with earth,

  And, having heap’d it to its height, return’d.

  But all the people, by Achilles still 325

  Detain’d, there sitting, form’d a spacious ring,

  And he the destined prizes from his fleet

  Produced, capacious caldrons, tripods bright,

  Steeds, mules, tall oxen, women at the breast

  Close-cinctured, elegant, and unwrought iron. 330

  First, to the chariot-drivers he proposed

  A noble prize; a beauteous maiden versed

  In arts domestic, with a tripod ear’d,

  Of twenty and two measures. These he made

  The conqueror’s meed. The second should a mare 335

  Obtain, unbroken yet, six years her age,

  Pregnant, and bearing in her womb a mule.

  A caldron of four measures, never smirch’d

  By smoke or flame, but fresh as from the forge

  The third awaited; to the fourth he gave 340

  Two golden talents, and, unsullied yet

  By use, a twin-ear’d phial to the fifth.

  He stood erect, and to the Greeks he cried.

  565 Atrides, and ye chiefs of all the host!

  These prizes, in the circus placed, attend 345

  The charioteers. Held we the present games

  In honor of some other Grecian dead,

  I would myself bear hence the foremost prize;

  For ye are all witnesses well-inform’d

  Of the superior virtue of my steeds. 350

  They are immortal; Neptune on my sire

  Peleus conferr’d them, and my sire on me.

  But neither I this contest share myself,

  Nor shall my steeds; for they would miss the force

  And guidance of a charioteer so kind 355

  As they have lost, who many a time hath cleansed

  Their manes with water of the crystal brook,

  And made them sleek, himself, with limpid oil.

  Him, therefore, mourning, motionless they stand

  With hair dishevell’d, streaming to the ground. 360

  But ye, whoever of the host profess

  Superior skill, and glory in your steeds

  And well-built chariots, for the strife prepare!

  So spake Pelides, and the charioteers,

  For speed renown’d arose. Long ere the rest 365

  Eumelus, King of men, Admetus’ son

  Arose, accomplish’d in equestrian arts.

  Next, Tydeus’ son, brave Diomede, arose;

  He yoked the Trojan coursers by himself

  In battle from Æneas won, what time 370

  Apollo saved their master. Third, upstood

  The son of Atreus with the golden locks,

  Who to his chariot Agamemnon’s mare

  Swift Æthe and his own Podargus join’d.

  Her Echepolus from Anchises sprung 375

  To Agamemnon gave; she was the price

  At which he purchased leave to dwell at home

  Excused attendance on the King at Troy;

  For, by the gift of Jove, he had acquired

  Great riches, and in wide-spread Sicyon dwelt. 380

  Her wing’d with ardor, Menelaus yoked.

  566 Antilochus, arising fourth, his steeds

  Bright-maned prepared, son of the valiant King

  Of Pylus, Nestor Neleïades.

  Of Pylian breed were they, and thus his sire, 385

  With kind intent approaching to his side,

  Advised him, of himself not uninform’d.

  Antilochus! Thou art, I know, beloved

  By Jove and Neptune both, from whom, though young

  Thou hast received knowledge of every art 390

  Equestrian, and hast little need to learn.

  Thou know’st already how to trim the goal

  With nicest skill, yet wondrous slow of foot

  Thy coursers are, whence evil may ensue.

  But though their steeds be swifter, I account 395

  Thee wise, at least, as they. Now is the time

  For counsel, furnish now thy mind with all

  Precaution, that the prize escape thee not.

  The feller of huge trees by skill prevails

  More than by strength; by skill the pilot guides 400

  His flying bark rock’d by tempestuous winds,

  And more by skill than speed the race is won.

  But he who in his chariot and his steeds

  Trusts only, wanders here and wanders there

  Unsteady, while his coursers loosely rein’d 405

  Roam wide the field; not so the charioteer

  Of sound intelligence; he though he drive

  Inferior steeds, looks ever to the goal

  Which close he clips, not ignorant to check

  His coursers at the first but with tight rein 410

  Ruling his own, and watching those before.

  Now mark; I will describe so plain the goal

  That thou shalt know it surely. A dry stump

  Extant above the ground an ell in height

  Stands yonder; either oak it is, or pine 415

  More likely, which the weather least impairs.

  567 Two stones, both white, flank it on either hand.

  The way is narrow there, but smooth the course

  On both sides. It is either, as I think,

  A monument of one long since deceased, 420

  Or was, perchance, in ancient days design’d,

  As now by Peleus’ mighty son, a goal.

  That mark in view, thy steeds and chariot push

  Near to it as thou may’st; then, in thy seat

  Inclining gently to the left, prick smart 425

  Thy right-hand horse challenging him aloud,

  And give him rein; but let thy left-hand horse

  Bear on the goal so closely, that the nave

  And felly of thy wheel may seem to meet.

  Yet fear to strike the stone, lest foul disgrace 430

  Of broken chariot and of crippled steeds

  Ensue, and thou become th
e public jest.

  My boy beloved! use caution; for if once

  Thou turn the goal at speed, no man thenceforth

  Shall reach, or if he reach, shall pass thee by, 435

  Although Arion in thy rear he drove

  Adrastus’ rapid horse of race divine,

  Or those, Troy’s boast, bred by Laomedon.

  So Nestor spake, inculcating with care

  On his son’s mind these lessons in the art, 440

  And to his place retiring, sat again.

  Meriones his coursers glossy-maned

  Made ready last. Then to his chariot-seat

  Each mounted, and the lots were thrown; himself

  Achilles shook them. First, forth leap’d the lot 445

  Of Nestor’s son Antilochus, after whom

  The King Eumelus took his destined place.

  The third was Menelaus spear-renown’d;

  Meriones the fourth; and last of all,

  Bravest of all, heroic Diomede 450

  568 The son of Tydeus took his lot to drive.

  So ranged they stood; Achilles show’d the goal

  Far on the champain, nigh to which he placed

  The godlike Phœnix servant of his sire,

  To mark the race and make a true report. 455

  All raised the lash at once, and with the reins

  At once all smote their steeds, urging them on

  Vociferous; they, sudden, left the fleet

  Far, far behind them, scouring swift the plain.

  Dark, like a stormy cloud, uprose the dust 460

  Their chests beneath, and scatter’d in the wind

  Their manes all floated; now the chariots swept

  The low declivity unseen, and now

  Emerging started into view; erect

  The drivers stood; emulous, every heart 465

  Beat double; each encouraged loud his steeds;

  They, flying, fill’d with dust the darken’d air.

  But when returning to the hoary deep

  They ran their last career, then each display’d

  Brightest his charioteership, and the race 470

  Lay stretch’d, at once, into its utmost speed.

  Then, soon the mares of Pheretiades

  Pass’d all, but Diomede behind him came,

  Borne by his unemasculated steeds

  Of Trojan pedigree; they not remote, 475

  But close pursued him; and at every pace

  Seem’d entering both; the chariot at their head,

  For blowing warm into Eumelus’ neck

  Behind, and on his shoulders broad, they went,

  And their chins rested on him as they flew. 480