Ulysses heard: the hero's warmth o'erspread
His cheek with blushes: and severe, he said:
"Take back th' unjust reproach! Behold, we stand
Sheath'd in bright arms, and but expect command.
If glorious deeds afford thy soul delight,
Behold me plunging in the thickest fight.
Then give thy warrior-chief a warrior's due,
Who dares to act whate'er thou dar'st to view."
Struck with his generous wrath the king replies;
"Oh great in action, and in council wise!
With ours thy care and ardour are the same,
Nor need I to command, nor ought to blame.
Sage as thou art, and learn'd in human kind,
Forgive the transport of a martial mind.
Haste to the fight, secure of just amends;[friends."
The gods that make, shall keep the worthy,
He said, and pass'd where great Tydides lay,
His steeds and chariots wedg'd in firm array:
(The warlike Sthenelus attends his side)
To whom with stern reproach the monarch cry'd ;
"Oh son of Tydeus! (he, whose strength could
The bounding steed, in arms a mighty name)
Can'st thou, remote, the mingling hosts descry,
With hands unactive, and a careless eye?
Not thus thy sire the fierce encounter fear'd;
Still first in front the matchless prince appear'd;
What glorious toils, what wonders they recite,
Who view'd him labouring through the ranks of
fight!
I saw him once, when, gathering martial power,
A peaceful guest, he sought Mycena's tower;
Armies he ask'd, and armies had been given,
Not we deny'd, but Jove forbade from Heaven;
While dreadful comets glaring from afar
Forewarn'd the horrours of the Theban war.
Next, sent by Greece from where Asopus flows,
A fearless envoy, he approach'd the foes;
Thebe's hostile walls, unguarded and alone,
Dauntless he enters, and demands the throne.
The tyrant feasting with his chiefs he found,
And dar'd to combat all those chiefs around;
Dar'd and subdued, before their haughty lord;
For Pallas strung his arm, and edg'd his sword.
Stung with the shame, within the winding way,
To bar his passage fifty warriors lay;
Two heroes led the secret squadron on,
Mæon the fierce, and hardy Lycophon;
Those fifty slaughter'd in the gloomy vale,
He spar'd but one to bear the dreadful tale.
Such Tydeus was, and such his martial fire,
Gods! how the son degenerates from the sire!"
No words the god-like Diomed return'd,
But heard respectful, and in secret burn'd:
Not so fierce Capaneus' undaunted son,
Stern as his sire, the boaster thus begun: [praise,
"What needs, O monarch, this invidious
Ourselves to lessen, while our sires you raise ?
Dare to be just, Atrides! and confess
Our valour equal, though our fury less:
With fewer troops we storm'd the Theban wall,
And happier saw the sevenfold city fall.
In impious acts the guilty fathers dy'd;
The sons subdued, for Heaven was on their side.
Far more than heirs of all our parents' fame,
Our glories darken their diminish'd name."
To him Tydides thus: "My friend, forbear,
Suppress thy passion, and the king revere :
His high concern may well excuse this rage,
Whose cause we follow, and whose war we wage ;
His the first praise, were Ilion's towers o'erthrown,
And, if we fail, the chief disgrace his own.
Let him the Greeks to hardy toils excite,
'Tis ours to labour in the glorious fight."
He spoke, and ardent on the trembling ground
Sprung from his car; his ringing arms resound.
Dire was the clang, and dreadful from afar,
Of arm'd Tydides rushing to the war.
As when the winds, ascending by degrees,
First move the whitening surface of the seas,
The billows float in order to the shore,
The wave behind rolls on the wave before;
Till with the growing storm, the deeps arise,
Foam o'er the rocks and thunder to the skies.
So to the fight the thick battalions throng,
Shields urg'd on shields, and men drove men along.
Sedate and silent move the numerous bands;
No sound, no whisper, but the chief's commands,
Those only heard; with awe the rest obey,
As if some god had snatch'd their voice away.
Not so the Trojans; from their host ascends
A general shout that all the region rends.
As when the fleecy flocks unnumber'd stand
In wealthy folds, and wait the milker's hand,
The hollow vales incessant bleating fills,
The lambs reply from all the neighbouring hills:
Such clamours rose from various nations round,
Mix'd was the murmur, and confus'd the sound.
Each host now joins, and each a god inspires,
These Mars incites, and those Minerva fires.
Pale flight around, and dreadful terrour reign;
And discord raging bathes the purple plain;
Discord! dire sister of the slaughtering power,
Small at her birth, but rising every hour,
While scarce the skies her horrid head can bound,
She stalks on Earth, and shakes the world around;
The nations bleed, where'er her steps she turns,
The groan still deepens, and the combat burns.
Now shield with shield, with helmet helmet
To armour armour, lance to lance oppos'd, [clos'd,
Host against host with shadowy squadrons drew,
The sounding darts in iron tempests flew,
Victors and vanquish'd join promiscuous cries,
And shrilling shouts and dying groans arise;
With streaming blood the slippery fields are dy'd,
And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide.
As torrents roll, increas'd by numerous rills,
With rage impetuous down their echoing hills;
Rush to the vales, and, pour'd along the plain,
Roar through a thousand channels to the main;
The distant shepherd trembling hears the sound:
So mix both hosts, and so their cries rebound.
The bold Antilochus the slaughter led,
The first who struck a valiant Trojan dead:
At great Echepolus the lance arrives;
Raz'd his high crest, and through his helmet drives;
Warm'd in the brain the brazen weapon lies,
And shades eternal settle o'er his eyes.
So sinks a tower, that long assaults had stood
Of force and fire; its walls besmear'd with blood.
Him, the bold leader of th' Abantian throng
Seiz'd to despoil, and dragg'd the corpse along:
But while he strove to tug th' inserted dart,
Agenor's javelin reach'd the hero's heart.
His flank, unguarded by his ample shield,
Admits the lance: he falls, and spurns the field;
The nerves, unbrac'd, support his limbs no
The soul comes floating in a tide of gore. [more;
Trojans and Greeks now gather round the slain i
The war renews, the warriors bleed again;
As o'er their prey rapacious wolves engage,
Man dies on man, and all is blood and rage.
In blooming youth fair Simoïsius fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of Hell:
Fair Simoïsius, whom his mother bore,
Amid the flocks on silver Simois' shore:
The nymph descending from the hills of Ide,
[joy,
To seek her parents on his flowery side,
Brought forth the babe, their common care and
And thence from Simois nam'd the lovely boy.
Short was his date! by dreadful Ajax slain
He falls, and renders all their cares in vain!
So falls a poplar, that in watery ground
Rais'd high the head, with stately branches
crown'd,
(Fell'd by some artist with his shining steel,
To shape the circle of the bending wheel)
Cut down it lies, tall, smooth, and largely spread,
With all its beauteous honours on its head;
There, left a subject to the wind and rain,
And scorch'd by suns, it withers on the plain.
Thus pierc'd by Ajax, Simïosius lies
Stretch'd on the shore, and thus neglected dies.
At Ajax Antiphus his javelin threw;
The pointed lance with erring fury flew,
And Leucus, lov'd by wise Ulysses, slew.
He drops the corpse of Simoïsius slain,
And sinks a breathless carcase on the plain,
This saw Ulysses, and with grief enrag'd
Strode where the foremost of the foes engag'd;
Arm'd with his spear, he meditates the wound,
In act to throw; but, cautious, look'd around.
Struck at his sight, the Trojans backward drew,
And trembling heard the javelin as it flew.
A chief stood nigh, who from Abydos came,
Old Priam's son, Democoon was his name;
The weapon enter'd close above his ear,
Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear;
With piercing shrieks the youth resigns his breath,
His eye-balls darken with the shades of death;
Ponderous he falls; his clanging arins resound;
And his broad buckler rings against the ground.
Seiz'd with affright the boldest foes appear;
Ev'n god-like Hector seems himself to fear;
Slow he gave way, the rest tumultuous fled;
The Greeks with shouts press on, and spoil the
But Phœbus now from Ilion's towering height
Shines forth reveal'd, and animates the fight.
"Trojans, be bold, and force with force oppose;
Your foaming steeds urge headlong on the foes!
Nor are their bodies rocks, nor ribb'd with steel;
Your weapons enter, and your strokes they feel.
Have ye forgot what seem'd your dread before?
The great, the fierce Achilles fights no more."
Apollo thus from Ilion's lofty towers
Array'd in terrours, rous'd the Trojan powers:
While war's fierce goddess fires the Grecian foe,
And shouts and thunders in the fields below.
Then great Diores fell, by doom divine,
In vain his valour, and illustrious line.
A broken rock the force of Pirus threw
(Who from cold Ænus led the Thracian crew;)
Full on his ankle dropt the ponderous stone,
Burst the strong nerves, and crash'd the solid
bone.
Supine he tumbles on the crimson sands,
Before his helpless friends and native bands
And spreads for aid his unavailing hands.
The foe rush'd furious as he pants for breath,
And through his navel drove the pointed death:
His gushing entrails smok'd upon the ground,
And the warm life came issuing from the wound.
His lance bold Thoas at the conqueror sent,
Deep in his breast above the pap it went.
Amid the lungs was fix'd the winged wood,
And quivering in his heaving bosom stood:
Till from the dying chief, approaching near,
Th' Etolian warrior tugg'd his weighty spear:
Then sudden wav'd his flaming falchion round,
And gash'd his belly with a ghastly wound.
The corpse now breathless on the bloody plain,
To spoil his arms the victor strove in vain;
The Thracian bands against the victor prest;
A grove of lances glitter'd at his breast.
Stern Thoas, glaring with revengeful eyes,
In sullen fury slowly quits the prize.
Thus fell two heroes; one the pride of Thrace,
And one the leader of the Epian race:
Death's sable shade at once o'ercast their eyes,
In dust the vanquish'd, and the victor lies.
With copious slaughter all the fields are red,
And heap'd with growing mountains of the dead.
Had some brave chief this martial scene beheld,
By Pallas guarded through the dreadful field;
Might darts be bid to turn their points away,
And swords around him innocently play;
The war's whole art with wonder had he seen,
And counted heroes where he counted men.
So fought each host with thirst of glory fir'd,
And crowds on crowds triumphantly expir'd.
DIOMED, assisted by Pallas, performs wonders
in this day's battle. Pandarus wounds him with
an arrow, but the goddess cures him, enables
him to discern gods from mortals, and prohibits
him from contending with any of the former, ex-
Eneas joins Pandarus to op-
cepting Venus.
pose him: Pandarus is killed, and Æneas in
great danger, but for the assistance of Venus;
who, as she is reinoving her son from the fight,
is wounded in the hand by Diomed. Apollo se-
conds her in his rescue, and at length carries off
Eneas to Troy, where he is healed in the tem-
ple of Pergamus. Mars rallies the Trojans, and
In the mean
assists Hector to make a stand.
time Æneas is restored to the field, and they over-
throw several of the Greeks; among the rest
Tlepolemus is slain by Sarpedon. Juno and
Minerva descend to resist Mars; the latter in
cites Diomed to go against that god; he wounds
him, and sends him groaning to Heaven.
The first battle continues through this book. The scene is the same as in the former.
BUT Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,
Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires,
Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise,
And crown her hero with distinguish'd praise.
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray;
Th' unweary'd blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires th' autumnal skies,
When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight,
And, bath'd in Ocean, shoots a keener light.
Such glories Pallas on the chief bestow'd,
Such, from his arms, the fierce effulgence flow'd:
Onward she drives him, furious to engage,
Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage.
The sons of Dares first the combat sought,
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault;
In Vulcan's fane the father's days were led,
The sons to toils of glorious battle bred;
These singled from their troops the fight maintain,
These from their steeds, Tydides on the plain.
Fierce for renown the brother chiefs draw near,
And first bold Phegus cast his sounding spear,
Which o'er the warrior's shoulder took its course,
And spent in empty air its erring force.
Not so, Tydides, flew thy lance in vain,
Then dy'd Scamandrius, expert in the chase, In woods and wilds to wound the savage race: Diana taught him all her sylvan arts, To bend the bow, and aim unerring darts: But vainly here Diana's arts he tries, The fatal lance arrests him as he flies; From Menelaus' arm the weapon sent, Through his broad back and heaving bosom went : Down sinks the warrior with a thundering sound, His brazen armour rings against the ground. Next artful Phereclus untimely fell; Bold Merion sent him to the realms of Hell. Thy father's skill, O Phereclus, was thine, The graceful fabric and the fair design; For, lov'd by Pallas, Pallas did impart To him the shipwright's and the builder's art. Beneath his hand the fleet of Paris rose, The fatal cause of all his country's woes; Nor saw his country's peril, nor his own. But he, the mystic will of Heaven unknown, The hapless artist, while confus'd he fled, The spear of Merion mingled with the dead, Through his right hip with forceful fury cast, Between the bladder and the bone it past: Prone on his knees he falls with fruitless cries, And death in lasting slumber seals his eyes.
From Meges' force the swift Pedæus fled, Antenor's offspring from a foreign bed, Whose generous spouse, Theano, heavenly fair, Nurs'd the young stranger with a mother's care.
But pierc'd his breast, and stretch'd him on the plain. How vain those cares! when Meges in the rear
Seiz'd with unusual fear, Idæus fled,
Left the rich chariot, and his brother dead.
And, had not Vulcan lent his celestial aid,
He too had sunk to death's eternal shade;
But in a smoky cloud the god of fire
Preserv'd the son, in pity to the sire.
The steeds and chariot, to the navy led,
ncreas'd the spoils of gallant Diomed.
Struck with amaze and shame, the Trojan crew
Or slain or fled, the sons of Dares view;
When by the blood-stain'd hand Minerva prest
The god of battles, and this speech addrest :
Stern power of war! by whom the mighty fall, Who bathe in blood, and shake the lofty wall! Let the brave chiefs their glorious toils divide; And whose the conquest mighty Jove decide: While we from interdicted fields retire, Nor tempt the wrath of Heaven's avenging sire." Her words allay'd the impetuous warrior's heat, The god of arms and martial maid retreat; Remor'd from fight, on Xanthus' flowery bounds They sat, and listen'd to the dying sounds.
Meantime the Greeks the Trojan race pursue, And some bold chieftain every leader slew : First Odius falls, and bites the bloody sand, His death ennobled by Atrides' hand; As be to flight his wheeling car addrest, The speedy javelin drove from back to breast. In dust the mighty Halizonian lay, His arms resound, the spirit wings its way. Thy fate was next. O Phæstus! doom'd to feel The great Idomeneus' portended steel; Whom Borus sent (his son and only joy) From fruitful Tarne to the fields of Trov. The Cretan javelin reach'd him from afar, And pierc'd his shoulder as he mounts his car; Back from the car he tumbles to the ground, And everlasting shades his eyes surround.
Full in his nape infix'd the fatal spear!
Swift through his crackling jaws the weapon glides,
And the cold tongue the grinning teeth divides.
Then dy'd Hypsenor, generous and divine,
Sprung from the brave Dolopian's mighty line,
Who near ador d Scamander made abode,
Priest of the stream, and honour'd as a god.
On him, amidst the flying numbers found,
Eurypylus inflicts a deadly wound;
On his broad shoulders fell the forceful brand,
Then glancing downward lopp'd his holy hand,
Which stain'd with sacred blood the blushing sand.
Down sunk the priest; the purple hand of death
Clos'd his dim eye, and fate suppress'd his breath.
Thus toil'd the chiefs, in different parts engag'd,
In every quarter fierce Tydides rag`d,
Amid the Greek, amid the Trojan train,
Rapt through the ranks, he thunders o'er the plain,
Now here, now there, he darts from place to
place,
Pours on the rear, or lightens in their face.
Thus from high hills the torrents swift and strong
Deluge whole fields, and sweep the trees along,
Through ruin'd moles the rushing wave resounds,
O'erwhelms the bridge, and bursts the lofty bounds.
The yellow harvests of the ripen'd year,
And flatted vineyards, one sad waste appear!
While Jove descends in sluicy sheets of rain,
And all the labours of mankind are vain.
So rag'd Tydides, boundless in his ire,
Drove armies back, and made all Troy retire.
With grief the leader' of the Lycian band
Saw the wide waste of his destructive hand:
His bended bow against the chief he drew;
Swift to the mark the thirsty arrow flew,
Whose forky point the hollow breast-plate tore,
Deep in his shoulder pierc'd, and drank the gore:
The rushing stream his brazen armour dy'd,
While the proud archer thus exulting cry'd:
"Hither, ye Trojans, hither drive your steeds!
Lo! by our hand the bravest Grecian bleeds.
Not long the dreadful dart he can sustain ;
Or Phoebus urg'd me to these fields in vain.
So spoke he, boastful; but the winged dart Stopt short of life, and mock'd the shooter's art. The wounded chief, behind his car retir'd, The helping hand of Sthenelus requir'd ; Swift from his seat he leap'd upon the ground, And tugg'd the weapon from the gushing wound; When thus the king his guardian power addrest, The purple current wandering o'er his vest:
"O progeny of Jove! unconquer'd maid!
If e'er my god-like sire deserv'd thy aid,
If e'er I felt thee in the fighting field,
Now, goddess, now thy sacred succour yield.
O give my lance to reach the Trojan knight,
Whose arrow wounds the chief thou guard'st in
fight;
And lay the boaster groveling on the shore,
That vaunts these eyes shall view the light no more."
Thus pray'd Tydides, and Minerva heard;
His nerves confirm'd, his languid spirits cheer'd,
He feels each limb with wonted vigour light;
His beating bosom claims the promis'd fight.
"Be bold," (she cry'd) "in every combat shine,
War be thy province, thy protection mine;
Rush to the fight, and every foe control;
Wake each paternal virtue in thy soul:
Strength swells thy boiling breast, infus'd by me,
And all thy god-like father breathes in thee!
Yet more, from mortal mist I purge thy eyes,
And set to view the warring deities. [plain,
These see thou shun, through all th' embattled
Nor rashly strive where human force is vain.
If Venus mingle in the martial band,
Her shalt thou wound: so Pallas gives command.
With that, the blue-ey'd virgin wing'd her flight;
The hero rush'd impetuous to the fight;
With tenfold ardour now invades the plain,
Wild with delay, and more enrag'd by pain.
As on the fleecy flocks, when hunger calls,
Amidst the field a brindled lion falls;
If chance some shepherd with a distant dart
The savage wound, he rouses at the smart,
He foams, he roars; the shepherd dares not stay,
But trembling leaves the scattering flocks a prey;
Heaps fall on heaps; he bathes with blood the
ground,
Then leaps victorious o'er the lofty mound,
Not with less fury stern Tydides flew ;
And two brave leaders at an instant slew:
Astynous breathless fell, and by his side
'His people's pastor, good Hypenor, dy'd;
Astynous' breast the deadly lance receives,
Hypenor's shoulder his broad falchion cleaves.
Those slain he left; and sprung with noble rage
Abas and Polyïdus to engage;
Sons of Eurydamus, who, wise and old,
Could fates foresee, and mystic dreams unfold;
The youths return'd not from the doubtful plain,
And the sad father try'd his arts in vain;
No mystic dream could make their fates appear,
Though now determin'd by Tydides spear.
Young Xanthus next, and Thoön felt his rage;
The joy and hope of Phænops' feeble age;
Vast was his wealth, and these the only heirs
Of all his labours, and a life of cares.
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Where, Pandarus, are all thy honours now, Thy winged arrows and unerring bow, Thy matchless skill, thy yet unrivall'd fame, And boasted glory of the Lycian name? Oh pierce that mortal: if we mortal call That wondrous force by which whole armies fall; Or god incens'd, who quits the distant skies To punish Troy for slighted sacrifice; (Which, oh, avert from our unhappy state! For what so dreadful as celestial hate?) Whoe'er he be, propitiate Jove with prayer; If man destroy; if god, entreat to spare."
To him the Lycian: "Whom your eyes behold, If right I judge, is Diomed the bold! Such coursers whirl him o'er the dusty field, So towers his helmet, and so flames his shield. If 'tis a god, he wears that chief's disguise; Or if that chief, some guardian of the skies Involv'd in clouds, protects him in the fray, And turns unseen the frustrate dart away. I wing'd an arrow, which not idly fell, The stroke had fix'd him to the gates of Hell; And, but some god, some angry god withstands, His fate was due to these unerring hands. Skill'd in the bow, on foot I sought the war, Nor join'd swift horses to the rapid car. Ten polish'd chariots I possess'd at home, And still they grace Lycaon's princely dome : There veil'd in spacious coverlets they stand; And twice ten coursers wait their lord's command The good old warrior bade me trust to these, When first for Troy I sail'd the sacred seas; In fields aloft the whirling car to guide, And through the ranks of death triumphant ride: But vain with youth, and yet to thrift inclin'd,
I heard his councils with unheedful mind,
And thought the steeds (your large supplies un-
known)
Might fail of forage in the straiten'd town :
So took my bow and pointed darts in hand,
And left the chariots in my native land.
"Too late, O friend! my rashness I deplore;
These shafts, once fatal, carry death no more.
Tydeus' and Atreus' sons their points have found,
And undissembled gore pursued the wound.
In vain they bled: this unavailing bow
Serves, not to slaughter, but provoke the foe.
In evil hour these bended horns I strung,
And seiz'd the quiver where it idly hung.
Curs'd be the fate that sent me to the field
Without a warrior's arms, the spear and shield ;
If e'er with life I quit the Trojan plain,
If e'er I see my spouse and sire again,
This bow, unfaithful to my glorious aims,
Broke by my hand, shall feed the blazing flames."
To whom the leader of the Dardan race:
"Be calm, nor Phœbus' honour'd gift disgrace.
The distant dart be prais'd, though here we need
The rushing chariot, and the bounding steed.
Against you hero let us bend our course,
And hand to hand, encounter force with force.
Now mount iny seat, and from the chariot's height
Observe my father's steeds, renown'd in fight,
Practis'd alike to turn, to stop, to chase,
To dare the shock, or urge the rapid race:
Secure with these, through fighting fields we go ;
Or safe to Troy, if Jove assist the foc.
Haste, seize the whip, and snatch the guiding rein;
The warrior's fury let this arm sustain ;
Or, if to combat thy bold heart incline,
Take thou the spear, the chariot's care be mine." "O prince!" (Lycaon's valiant son reply'd)
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As thine the steeds, be thine the task to guide. The horses, practis'd to their lord's command, Shall bear the rein, and answer to thy hand, But if, unhappy, we desert the fight, Tay voice alone can animate their flight: Else shall our fates be number'd with the dead, And these, the victor's prize, in triumph led. Thine be the guidance then: with spear and shield Myself will charge this terrour of the field."
And now both heroes mount the glittering car; The bounding coursers rush amidst the war. Their fierce approach bold Sthenelus espy'd, Who thus, alarm'd, to great Tydides cry'd:
"O friend! two chiefs of force immense I see, Dreadful they come, and bend their rage on thee: Lo the brave heir of bold Lycaon's line, And great Æneas, sprung from race divine! Enough is given to fame. Ascend thy car; And save a life, the bulwark of our war."
At this the hero cast a gloomy look,
Fix'd on the chief with scorn; and thus he spoke :
"Me dost thou bid to shun the coming fight?
Me would'st thou move to base, inglorious flight?
Know, 'tis not honest in my soul to fear,
Nor was Tydides born to tremble here,
I hate the cumbrous chariot's slow advance,
And the long distance of the flying lance;
But while my nerves are strong, my force entire,
Thus front the foe, and emulate my sire.
Nor shall yon steeds that fierce to fight convey
Those threatening heroes, bear them both away;
One chief at least beneath this arm shall die :
So Pallas tells me, and forbids to fly.
But if she dooms, and if no god withstand,
That both shail fall by one victorious hand;
Then heed my words: my heroes here detain,
Fix'd to the chariot by the straighten'd rein;
Swift to Eneas' empty seat proceed,
And seize the coursers of etherial breed:
The race of those, which once the thundering god
For ravish'd Ganymede on Tros bestow'd,
The best that e'er on Earth's broad surface run,
Beneath the rising or the setting Sun.
Hence great Anchises stole a breed, unknown
By mortal mares, from fierce Laomedon;
Four of this race his ample stalls contain,
And two transport Æneas o'er the plain. [known."
These, were the rich immortal prize our own,
Through the wide world should make our glory.
Thus while they spoke the foe came furious on, And stern Lycaon's warlike race begun : "Prince thou art met. Though late in vain asThe spear may enter where the arrow fail'd.” [sail'd,
He said, then shook the ponderous lance,and flung: On his broad shield the sounding weapon rung, Pierc'd the tough orb, and in his cuirass hung. "He bleeds! the pride of Greece !" (the boaster cries)
"Our triumph now the mighty warrior lies!" "Mistaken vaunter !" Diomed reply'd;
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Thy dart has err'd, and now my spear be try'd: Ye 'scape not both; one, headlong from his car, With hostile blood shall glut the god of war."
He spoke, and rising hurl'd his forceful dart, Which, driven by Pallas, pierc'd a vital part; Full in his face it enter'd, and betwixt
The nose and eye-ball the proud Lycian fixt;
Crash'd all his jaws, and cleft the tongue within,
Till the bright point look'd out beneath the chin.
Headlong he falls, his helmet knocks the ground;
Earth groans beneath him, and his arms resound;
The starting coursers tremble with affright;
The soul indignant seeks the realms of night.
To guard his slaughter'd friend, Æneas flies,
His spear extending where the carcase lies;
Watchful he wheels, protects it every way,
As the grim lion stalks around his prey.
O'er the fall'n trunk his ample shield display'd,
He hides the hero with his mighty shade,
And threats aloud: the Greeks with longing eyes
Behold at distance, but forbear the prize.
Then fierce Tydides stoops; and from the fields,
Heav'd with vast force, a rocky fragment wields,
Not two strong men th' enormous weight could raise,
Such men as live in these degenerate days.
He swung it round; and, gathering strength to
Discharg'd the ponderous ruin at the foe. [throw,
Where to the hip th' inserted thigh unites,
Full on the bone the pointed marble lights;
Through both the tendons broke the rugged stone
And stripp'd the skin, and crack'd the solid bone.
Sunk on his knees, and staggering with his pains,
His falling bulk his berded arms sustains;
Lost in a dizzy mist the warrior lies;
A sudden cloud comes swimming o'er his eyes. There the brave chief who mighty numbers sway'd, Oppress'd had sunk to death's eternal shade; But heavenly Venus, mindful of the love She bore Anchises in th' Idæan grove, His danger views with anguish and despair, And guards her offspring with a mother's care. About her much-lov'd son her arms she throws, Her arms whose whiteness match the falling snows, Screen'd from the foe behind her shining veil, The swords wave harmless, and the javelins fail: Safe through the rushing horse, and feather'd flight Of sounding shafts, she bears him from the fight. Nor Sthenelus, with unassisting hands, Remain'd unheedful of his lord's commands: His panting steeds, remov'd from out the war, He fix'd with straighten'd traces to the car. Next rushing to the Dardan spoil, detains The heavenly coursers with the flowing manes: These, in proud triumph to the fleet convey'd, No longer now a Trojan lord obey'd, That charge to bold Deïpylus he gave, (Whom most he lov'd, as brave men love the brave) Then mounting on his car, resum'd-the rein, And follow'd where Tydides swept the plain.
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