840

Prove we our force, and Jove the rest decree.'

He said: and, straining, heav'd him off the ground

With matchless strength: that time Ulysses found

The strength t' evade, and where the nerves combine

His ankle struck: the giant fell supine;
Ulysses foll'wing, on his bosom lies;
Shouts of applause run rattling thro' the
skies.

Ajax to lift, Ulysses next essays,

He barely stirr'd him, but he could not raise;

His knee lock'd fast, the foe's attempt denied;

850 And, grappling close, they tumble side by side.

Defiled with honourable dust, they roll, Still breathing strife, and unsubdued of soul:

Again they rage, again to combat rise; When great Achilles thus divides the prize: Your noble vigour, oh my friends, restrain;

Nor weary out your gen'rous strength in vain.

Ye both have won: let others who excel, Now prove that prowess you have prov'd so well.'

The hero's words the willing Chiefs obey, From their tired bodies wipe the dust

859

And now succeed the giftsordain'd to grace The youths contending in the rapid race: A silver urn that full six measures held, By none in weight or workmanship excell'd:

Sidonian artists taught the frame to shine,
Elaborate, with artifice divine;
Whence Tyrian sailors did the prize trans-
port,

869

And gave to Thoas at the Lemnian port:
From him descended, good Eunæus heir'd
The glorious gift; and, for Lycaon spared,
To brave Patroclus gave the rich reward.
Now, the same hero's funeral rites to grace,
It stands the prize of swiftness in the race.
A well-fed ox was for the second placed;
And half a talent must content the last.
Achilles rising then bespoke the train:
'Who hope the palm of swiftness to ob
tain,

Stand forth, and bear these prizes from the plain.'

880

The hero said, and, starting from his

place,

Orlean Ajax rises to the race;
Ulysses next; and he whose speed sur-
pass'd

His youthful equals, Nestor's son the last.
Ranged in a line the ready racers stand;
Pelides points the barrier with his hand:
All start at once; Ofleus led the race;
The next Ulysses, measuring pace with pace:
Behind him, diligently close, he sped,
As closely foll'wing as the running thread
The spindle follows, and displays the
charms

889

Besmear'd with filth, and blotted o'er with clay,

Obscene to sight, the rueful racer lay: The well-fed bull (the second prize) he shared,

And left the urn Ulysses' rich reward. Then, grasping by the horn the mighty beast,

The baffled hero thus the Greeks address'd:
'Accursed Fate ! the conquest I forego;
A mortal I, a Goddess was my fɔe:
She urged her fav'rite on the rapid way,
And Pallas, not Ulysses, won the day.' 920
Thus sourly wail'd he, sputt'ring dirt and

For each brave champion, when the combat ends,

A sumptuous banquet at our tent attends.' Fierce at the word, up rose great Tydeus'

son,

And the huge bulk of Ajax Telamon:
Clad in refulgent steel, on either hand, 959
The dreadful chiefs amid the circle stand:
Low'ring they meet, tremendous to the
sight;

Each Argive bosom beats with fierce delight.

Opposed in arms not long they idly stood, But thrice they closed, and thrice the charge renew'd.

A furious pass the spear of Ajax made Thro' the broad shield, but at the corslet stay'd:

Not thus the foe; his jav'lin aim'd above The buckler's margin, at the neck he drove. But Greece, now trembling for her hero's life,

Bade share the honours, and surcease the

strife.

Yet still the victor's due Tydides gains, With him the sword and studded belt remains.

Then hurl'd the hero, thund'ring on the ground,

A mass of iron (an enormous round), Whose weight and size the circling Greeks admire,

Rude from the furnace, and but shaped by fire.

This mighty quoit Eëtion wont to rear, And from his whirling arm dismiss in

air:

From Polypates' arm, the discus sung: 1000 Far as a swain his whirling sheephook throws,

That distant falls among the grazing cows,
So past them all the rapid circle flies:
His friends (while loud applauses shake
the skies)

With force conjoin'd heave off the weighty prize.

Those who in skilful archery contend He next invites, the twanging bow to bend: And twice ten axes casts amidst the round (Ten double-edg'd, and ten that singly wound).

The mast, which late a first-rate galley bore,

The hero fixes in the sandy shore:

1010

To the tall top a milk-white dove they tie, The trembling mark at which their arrows fly.

Whose weapon strikes yon flutt'ring bird shall bear

These two-edg'd axes, terrible in war:

Then sudden dropp'd, and left her life in air.

From the pleas'd crowd new peals of thunder rise,

And to the ships brave Merion bears the prize.

To close the funeral games, Achilles last A massy spear amid the circle placed, And ample charger of unsullied frame, With flowers high wrought, not blacken'd yet by flame.

For these he bids the heroes prove their art,

Whose dext'rous skill directs the flying dart.

The Gods deliberate about the redemption of Hector's body. Jupiter sends Thetis to Achilles to dispose him for the restoring it, and Iris to Priam, to encourage him to go in person, and treat for it. The old King, notwithstanding the remonstrances of his Queen, makes ready for the journey, to which he is encouraged by an omen from Jupiter. He sets forth in his chariot, with a wagon loaded with presents, under the charge of Idæus the herald. Mercury descends in the shape of a young man, and conducts him to the pavilion of Achilles. Their conversation on the way. Priam finds Achilles at his table, casts himself at his feet, and begs for the body of his son: Achilles, moved with compassion, grants his request, detains him one night in his tent, and the next morning sends him home with the body: the Trojans run out to meet him. The lamentation of Andromache, Hecuba, and Helen, with the solemnities of the funeral.

The time of twelve days is employed in this book, while the body of Hector lies in the tent of Achilles. And as many more are spent in the truce allowed for his interment. The scene is partly in Achilles's camp, and partly in Troy.

Now from the finish'd games the Grecian band

Seek their black ships, and clear the crowded strand:

But when the tenth celestial morning broke, To Heav'n assembled, thus Apollo spoke: 'Unpitying Powers! how oft each holy fane

Has Hector tinged with blood of victims slain ?

50

And can ye still his cold remains pursue?
Still grudge his body to the Trojans' view?
Deny to consort, mother, son, and sire,
The last sad honours of a funeral fire ?
Is then the dire Achilles all your care?
That iron heart, inflexibly severe;
A lion, not a man, who slaughters wide
In strength of rage and impotence of pride,
Who hastes to murder with a savage joy,
Invades around, and breathes but to de-
stroy.

Shame is not of his soul; nor understood,
The greatest evil and the greatest good.
Still for one loss he rages unresign'd,
Repugnant to the lot of all mankind;
To lose a friend, a brother, or a son,
Heav'n dooms each mortal, and its will is
done:

60

Awhile they sorrow, then dismiss their care; Fate gives the wound, and man is born to bear.

But this insatiate the commission giv'n
By Fate, exceeds; and tempts the wrath of
Heav'n:

Lo how his rage dishonest drags along
Hector's dead earth, insensible of wrong!
Brave tho' he be, yet by no reason awed,
He violates the laws of man and God!'

'If equal honours by the partial skies 70 Are doom'd both heroes' (Juno thus replies),

'If Thetis' son must no distinction know, Then hear, ye Gods! the Patron of the

Bow.

But mine, and ev'ry God's peculiar grace Hector deserves, of all the Trojan race: Still on our shrines his grateful off'rings lay

(The only honours men to Gods can pay), 90 Nor ever from our smoking altar ceas'd The pure libation, and the holy feast. Howe'er, by stealth to snatch the corse away,

We will not: Thetis guards it night and day.
But haste, and summon to our courts above
The azure Queen: let her persuasion move
Her furious son from Priam to receive
The proffer'd ransom, and the corse to
leave.'

He added not: and Iris from the skies, Swift as a whirlwind, on the message flies;

100

Meteorous the face of ocean sweeps, Refulgent gliding o'er the sable deeps. Between where Samos wide his forests spreads,

And rocky Imbrus lifts its pointed heads, Down plunged the Maid (the parted waves resound);

She plunged, and instant shot the dark profound.

As, bearing death in the fallacions bait, From the bent angle sinks the leaden weight;

So pass'd the Goddess thro' the closing