The thoughts of glory paft, and present shame,
A thousand griefs fhall waken at the name!
May I lie cold before that dreadful day,
Prefs'd with a load of monumental clay!
Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting fleep,
Shall neither hear thee figh, nor fee thee weep.
Thus having fpoke, th' illuftrious chief of Troy
Stretch'd his fond arms to clafp the lovely boy.
595
The babe clung crying to his nurse's breaft,
Scar'd at the dazzling helm, and nodding crest.
With fecret pleasure each fond parent fnil'd,
And Hector hafted to relieve his child,
The glittering terrours from his brows unbound,
And plac'd the beaming helmet on the ground.
Then kifs'd the child, and litting high in air,
Thus to the Gods preferr'd a father's prayer:
O thou! whofe glory fills th' æthereal throne, And all ye deathlefs powers! protect my fon!
Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown,
To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown,
Against his country's foes the war to wage,
And rife the Hector of the future age!
So when, triumphant from fuccefsful toils
Of heroes flain, he bears the reeking spoils,
Whole hofts may hail him with deferv'd acclaim,
And fay, this chief tranfcends his father's fame:
While, pleas'd, amidst the general fhouts of Toy,
His mother's confcious heart o'erflows with joy.
615
He fpoke, and fondly gazing on her charms,
Reftor'd the pleafing burthen to her arms;
Soft on her fragrant breaft the babe the laid,
Huth'd to repofe, and with a smile furvey'd.
The troubled pleasure foon chaftis'd by fear, 620
She mingled with a fmile a tender tear.
The foften'd chief with kind compaffion view'd,
And dry'd the falling drops, and thus pursued :
Andromache! my foul's far better part,
Why with untimely forrows heaves thy heart?
No hoftile hand can antedate my doom,
Till fate condemns me to the filent tomb.
Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth;
And fuch the hard condition of our birth,
No force can then refift, no flight can fave;
All fink alike, the fearful and the brave.
No more but haften to thy tasks at home,
There guide the fpindle, and direct the loom;
Me glory fummons to the martial scene,
The field of combat is the fphere for men.
Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim,
The firft in danger, as the first in fame.
Thus having faid, the glorious chief refumes
His towery helmet, black with fhading plumes.
H's princess parts with a prophetic figh, 64.
Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye,
That ftream'd at every look: then, moving
flow,
Sought her own palace, and indulg'd her woe.
There, while her tears deplor'd the god-like man,
Through all her train the foft infection ran, 645
The pious maids their mingled forrows fhed,
And mourn the living Hector, as the dead.
But now, no longer deaf to honour's call,
Forth iffues Paris from the palace wall.
In brazen arms that caft a gleamy ray,
Swift through the town the warriour bends his
way.
The wanton courfer thus, with reins unbound, Breaks from his ftall, and beats the trembling ground;
Pamper'd and proud, he feeks the wonted tides,
And laves, in height of blood, his fhining fides ;
655
His head now freed, he toffes to the skies;
His mane difhevell'd o'er his shoulders flies;
He fnuffs the females in the diftant plain,
And fprings, exulting, to his fields again.
With equal triumph, fprightly, bold, and gay,
660
In arms refulgent as the God of day,
The fon of Priam, glorying in his might,
Rufh'd forth with Hector to the fields of fight.
And now, the warriours paffing on the way,
The graceful Paris firft excus'd his ftay.
To whom the noble Hector thus reply'd :
O chief! in blood, and now in arms, ally'd!
Thy power in war with juftice none conteft;
Known is thy courage, and thy ftrength confeft.
What pity floth fhould feize a foul fo brave, 670
Or god-like Paris live a woman's flave!
My heart weeps blood at what the Trojans fay,
And hopes, thy deeds fhall wipe the ftain away.
Hafle then, in all their glorious labours share;
For much they fuffer, for thy fake, in war. 675
630 Thefe ills fhall ceafe, whene'r by Jove's decree
We crown the bowl to Heaven and Liberty:
While the proud foe bis fruftrate triumphs mourns,
And Greece indignant through her feas returns.
The fingle combat of Hector and Ajax.
THE battle renewing with double ardour upon the return of Hector, Minerva is under apprehenfions for the Greeks. Apollo, feeing her defcend from Olympus, joins her near the Scaan gate, they agree to put off the general engagement for that day, and incite Hector to challenge the Greeks to a fingle combat. Nine of the princes accepting the challenge, the lot is caft, and falls upon Ajax. Thefe heroes, after feveral attacks, are parted by the night. The Trojans calling a council, Antenor propofes the delivery of Helen to the Greeks, to which Paris will not confent, but offers to restore them her riches. Priam fends a herald to make this offer, and to demand a truce for burning the dead; the last of which only is agreed to by Agamemnon. When the funerals are performed, the Greeks, purfuant to the advice of Neftor, erect a fortification to protect their fleet and camp, flanked with towers, and defended by a ditch and palifades. Neptune teftifies his jealoufy at this work, but is pacified by a promife from Jupiter. Both armies pafs the night in feafting, but Jupiter disheartens the Trojans with thunder and other figns of his wrath.
The three and twentieth day ends with the duel of Hector and Ajax: the next day the truce is agreed: another is taken up in the funeral rites of the flain; and one more in building the fortification before the hips. So that fomewhat above three days is employed in this book. The fcene lies wholly in the field.
Sofpoke the guardian of the Trojan ftate,
Then rush'd impetuous through the Scean
gate.
Him Paris follow'd to the dire alarms;
Both breathing flaughter, both refolv'd in arms.
As when to failors labouring through the main, 5
That long had heav'd the weary oar in vain,
Jove bids at length th' expected gales arife,
The gales blow grateful, and the veffel flies:
So welcome these to Troy's defiring train;
The bands are chear'd, the war awakes again. 10
Bold Paris first the work of death begun
On great Menestheus, Areïthous' fon :
Sprung from the fair Philomeda's embrace,
The pleafing Arnè was his native place.
Then funk Eioneus to the fhades below,
Beneath his fteely cafque he felt the blow,
Full on his neck, from Hector's weighty hand;
And roll'd, with limbs relax'd, along the land.
By Glaucus' fpear the bold Iphinous bleeds,
Fix'd in the fhoulder as he mounts his fteeds; 20
Headlong he tumbles: his flack nerves unbound,
Drop the cold useless members on the ground.
When now Minerva faw her Argives flain,
From vaft Olympus to the gleaming plain.
Fierce the defcends: Apollo mark'd her flight, 25
Nor thot lefs fwift f om Ilion's towery height;
Radiant they met, beneath the beechen shade;
When thus Apollo to the blue-ey'd Maid:
What caufe, O Daughter of almighty Jove!
Thus wings thy progrefs from the realms above?
For not this day fhall end thy glorious date,
The Gods have spoke it, and their voice is fate.
He faid the warriour heard the word with joy ;
Then with his fpear restrain'd the youth of Troy,
60
Held by the midst athwart. On either hand,
The fquadrons part; th' expecting Trojans ftand:
Great Agamemnon bids the Greeks forbear;
They breathe, and hush the tunult of the war.
Th' Athenian Maid and glorious God of day
With filent joy the fettling hofts furvey:
In form of vultures, on the beech's height
They fit conceal'd, and wait the future fight.
The thronging troops obfcure the dufky fields,
Horrid with briftling fpears, and gleaming fhields.
70
Great Jove, averfe our warfare to compofe,
O'erwhelms the nations with new toils and woes;
War with a fiercer tide once more returns,
Till Ilion falls, or till yon navy burns.
You then, O princes of the Greeks appear;
'Tis Hector fpeaks, and calls the Gods to hear :
From all your troops felect the boldeft knight,
And him, the boldeft, Hector dares to fight.
Here if I fall, by chance of battle flain,
Be his my fpoil, and his thefe arms remain;
But let my body, to my friends return'd,
By Trojan hands and Trojan flames be burn'd.
And if Apollo, in whofe aid I trust,
Shall fretch your daring champion in the dust :
If mine the glory to defpoil the foe;
On Phoebus' temple I'll his arms beftow;
The breathlefs carcafe to your navy fent,
Greece on the fhore fhall raise a monument;
These words fcarce fpoke, with generous ardour preft,
His manly limbs in azure arms he dreft:
That day, Atrides! a fuperiour hand
Had ftretch'd thee breathlefs on the hoftile strand,
But all at once, thy fury to compose,
The kings of Greece, an awful band, arofe:
Ev'n he their chief, great Agamemnon, press'd
Thy daring hand, and this advice addrefs'd:
Whither, O Menelaus! wouldst thou run,
And tempt a fate, which prudence bids thee fhun?
Griev'd though thou art, forbear the rafh defign;
Great Hector's arm is mightier far than thine. 130
Ev'n fierce Achilles learn'd its force to fear,
And trembling met this dreadful fon of war.
Sit thou fecure amidst thy focial band ;
Greece in our caufe fhall arm fome powerful hand,
The mightiest warriour of th' Achaian name, 135
Though bold, and burning with defire of fame,
Content, the doubtful honour might forego,
So great the danger, and fo brave the foe.
He faid, and turn'd his brother's vengeful mind;
He ftoop'd to reason, and his rage refign'd,
No longer bent to rush on certain harms;
His joyful friends unbrace his azure arms.
He, from whofe lips divine perfuafion flows,
Grave Neftor, then, in graceful act arofe.
Thus to the kings he fpoke: What grief, what
fhame,
Attend on Greece, and all the Grecian name!
How fhall, alas her hoary heroes mourn
Their fons degenerate, and their race a scorn?
What tears fhall down thy filver beard be roll'd,
Oh Peleus, old in arms, in wifdom old!
Once with what joy the generous prince would
Of every chief who fought this glorious war;
Participate their fame, and pleas'd enquire
Each name, each action, and each hero's fire!
Gods! fhould he fee our warriours trembling
ftand,
And trembling all before one hoftile hand; 153
How would he lift his aged arms on high,
Lament inglorious Greece, and beg to die!
Where Celadon rolls down his rapid tide.
There Ereuthalion brav'd us in the field,
Proud, Areïthous' dreadful arms to wield;
Great Areïthous, known from shore to fhore
By the huge, knotted, iron mace he bore;
No lance he fhook, nor bent the twanging bow,
But broke, with this, the battle of the foe.
Him not by manly force ycurgus flew,
Whofe guileful javelin from the thicket flew,
Deep in a winding way his breast affail'd, 175
Nor aught the warriour's thundering mace a-
vail'd.
Supine he fell thofe arms which Mars before
Had given the vanquish'd, now the victor bore:
But when old age had dimm'd Lycurgus' eyes,
To Ereuthalion he confign'd the prize.
Furious with this, he crufh'd our level'd bands,
And dar'd the trial of the strongest hands;
Nor could the strongest hands his fury ftay;
All faw, and fear'd, his huge tempeftuous sway.
Till I, the youngest of the hoft appear'd,
And, youngest, met whom all our army fear'd.
I fought the chief: my arms Minerva crown'd:
Prone fell the giant o'er a length of ground.
What then he was, Oh were you Neftor now!
Not Hector's felf thould want an equal foe.
But, warriours, you, that youthful vigour boaít,
The flower of Greece, th' examples of our hoft,
Sprung from fuch fathers, who fuch numbers
fway,
Can you stand trembling, and defert the day?
His warm reproofs the listening kings inflame;
And nine, the nobleft of the Grecian rame,
Up-started fierce but far before the rett
The king of men advanc'd his dauntless breast:
Then bold Tydides, great in arms appear'd;
And next his bulk gigantic Ajax rear'd;
Oileus followed; Idomen was there,
And Merion dreadful as the God of War:
With thefe Eurypylus and Thoas ftand,
And wife Ulyffes clos'd the daring band.
All thefe, alike infpir'd with noble rage,
Demand the fight. To whom the Pylian fage :
Left thirst of glory your brave souls divide;
What chief shall combat, let the lots decide.
Whom heaven shall chufe, be his the chance to
raife
Leap'd forth the lot, of every Greek defir'd. 220
This from the right to left the herald bears,
Held out in order to the Grecian peers;
Each to his rival yields the mark unknown,
Till god-like Ajax finds the lot his own;
Surveys th' infcription with rejoicing eyes,
Then cafts before him, and with tranfport cries:
Warriours! I claim the lot, and arm with joy;
Be mine the conqueft of this chief of Troy.
Now while my brighteft arms my limbs inveft,
To Saturn's fon be all your vows addrest:
230
But pray in fecret, left the foes should hear,
And deem your prayers the mean effects of fear.
Said I in fecret? No, your vows declare,
In fuch a voice as fills the earth and air.
Lives there a chief whom Ajax ought to dread,
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Of tough bull-hides; of folid brass the last,
(The work of Tychius, who in Hyle dwell'd,
And all in arts of armoury excell'd :)
This Ajax bore befo e his manly breast,
And, threatening, thus his adverfe chief addrest:
Hector! approach my arm! and fingly know
What ftrength thou haft, and what the Grecian
Achilles fhuns the fight; yet fome there are, 275 Not void of foul, and not unskill'd in war:
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He faid; and, rifing high above the field, 295 Whirl'd the long lance against the fevenfold fhield.
Full on the brafs defcending from above
Through fix bull-hides the furious weapon drove,
Till in the feventh it fix'd. Then Ajax threw ;
Through Hector's fhicld the forceful javclin flew,
300
His corflet enters, and his garment rends,
And glancing downwards near his flank defcends.
The wary Trojan fhrinks, and, bending low
Beneath his buckler, difappoints the blow.
From their bor'd fhields the chiefs theirs javelins
drew,
Then clofe impetuous, and the charge renew:
Fierce as the mountain-lions bath'd in blood,
Or foaming boars, the terrour of the wood.
At Ajax, Hector his long lance extends;
The blunted point against the buckler bends: 310
But Ajax, watchful as his foc drew near,
Drove through the Trojan targe the knotty fpear;
It reach'd his neck, with matchlefs ftrength im-
pell'd;
Spouts the black gore, and dims his fhining fhield.
Yet ceas'd not Hector thus; but, ftooping down, 315
In his ftrong hand up-heav'd a flinty stone,
Black, craggy, vaft: to this his force he bends;
Full on the brazen bofs the ftone defcends;
The hollow brafs refounded with the fhock.
Then Ajax feiz'd the fragment of a rock,
Apply'd each nerve, and fwinging round on
high,
With force tempeftuous let the ruin fly:
Now martial law commands us to forbear;
Hereafter we shall meet in glorious war,
Some future day fhall lengthen out our ftrife,
And let the Gods decide of death or life!
Since then the night extends her gloomy fhade,
And Heaven enjoins it, be the night obey'd.
Return, brave Ajax, to thy Grecian friends,
And joy the nations whom thy arm defends;
As I fall glad each chief, and Trojan wife, 360
Who wearies Heaven with vows for Hector's life.
But let us, on this memorable day,
Exchange fome gift; that Greece and Troy may
fay,
"Not hate, but glory, made thefe chiefs comtend :
"And each brave foe was in his foul a friend."
With that, a fword with stars of filver grac'd, The baldrick ftudded, and the fheath enchas'd, He gave the Greek. The generous Greek boftow'd
A radiant belt that rich with purple glow'd. Then with majeftick grace they quit the plain;
This feeks the Grecian, that the Phrygian train.
The Trojan bands returning Hector wait, And hail with joy the champion of their ftate: Efcap'd great Ajax, they furvey'd him round, Alive, unharm'd, and vigorous from his wound.
To Troy's high gates the god-like man they bear, Their present triumph, as their late despair.
But Ajax, glorying in his hardy deed, The well-arm'd Greeks to Agamemnon lead. A fteer for facrifice the king defign'd, Of full five years, and of the nobler kind. The victim falls; they ftrip the smoking hide, The beaft they quarter, and the joints divide; Then fpread the tables, and repast prepare, Each takes his feat, and each receives his share.
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