But while young Phobus pleased himself to view His furious Knight destroy the vulgar crew, Sly Hermes long'd t' attempt with secret aim Some noble act of more exalted fame.
For this, he inoffensive pass'd along
Through ranks of Foot, and midst the trembling throng
Sent his left Horse (that free without confine Roved o'er the plain) upon some great design Against the King himself. At length he stood, And having fix'd his station as he would, Threaten'd at once with instant fate the King And th' Indian beast that guarded the right wing. Apollo sigh'd, and hast'ning to relieve
The straiten'd Monarch, grieved that he must leave His martial Elephant exposed to fate,
And view'd with pitying eyes his dang'rous state. First in his thoughts however was his care To save his King, whom to the neighbouring square On the right hand, he snatch'd with trembling flight;
At this with fury springs the sable Knight, Drew his keen sword, and rising to the blow, Sent the great Indian brute to shades below O fatal loss! for none except the Queen Spreads such a terror through the bloody scene. "Yet shall you ne'er unpunish'd boast your prize," The Delian God with stern resentment cries; And wedged him round with foot, and pour'd in fresh supplies.
Thus close besieged, trembling he cast his eye Around the plain, but saw no shelter nigh, No way for flight; for here the Queen opposed, The Foot in phalanx there the passage closed: At length he fell; yet not unpleased with fate, Since victim to a Queen's vindictive hate. With grief and fury burns the whiten'd host, One of their Tow'rs thus immaturely lost. As when a bull has in contention stern
Lost his right horn, with double vengeance burn His thoughts for war, with blood he's cover'd o'er, And the woods echo to his dismal roar,
So look'd the flaxen host, when angry fate O'erturn'd the Indian bulwark of their state. Fired at this great success, with double rage Apollo hurries on his troops t' engage, For blood and havoc wild; and, while he leads His troops thus careless, loses both his steeds: For if some adverse warriors were o'erthrown, He little thought what dangers threat his own. But slyer Hermes with observant eyes March'd slowly cautious, and at distance spies What moves must next succeed, what dangers next arise.
Often would he, the stately Queen to snare, The slender Foot to front her arms prepare, And to conceal his scheme he sighs and feigns Such a wrong step would frustrate all his pains. Just then an Archer, from the right-hand view, At the male Queen his arrow boldly drew,
Unseen by Phoebus, who, with studious thought, From the left side a vulgar hero brought. But tender Venus, with a pitying eye, Viewing the sad destruction that was nigh, Wink'd upon Phoebus (for the Goddess sat By chance directly opposite); at that Roused in an instant, young Apollo threw His eyes around the field his troops to view: Perceived the danger, and with sudden fright Withdrew the Foot that he had sent to fight, And saved his trembling Queen by seasonable flight. But Maia's son with shouts fill'd all the coast: "The Queen," he cried, "the important Queen is lost."
Phoebus, howe'er, resolving to maintain
What he had done, bespoke the heavenly train. "What mighty harm, in sportive mimic fight, Is it to set a little blunder right,
When no preliminary rule debarr'd?
If you henceforward, Mercury, would guard Against such practice, let us make the law: And whosoe'er shall first to battle draw, Or white, or black, remorseless let him go At all events, and dare the angry foe."
He said, and this opinion pleased around: Jove turn'd aside, and on his daughter frown'd, Unmark'd by Hermes, who, with strange surprise, Fretted and foam'd, and roll'd his ferret eyes, And but with great reluctance could refrain From dashing at a blow all off the plain.
Then he resolved to interweave deceits,― To carry on the war by tricks and cheats. Instant he call'd an Archer from the throng, And bid him like the courser wheel along: Bounding he springs, and threats the pallid Queen. The fraud, however, was by Phoebus seen; He smiled, and turning to the Gods, he said, "Though, Hermes, you are perfect in your trade, And you can trick and cheat to great surprise, These little sleights no more shall blind my eyes; Correct them if you please, the more you thus disguise."
The circle laugh'd aloud; and Maia's son (As if it had but by mistake been done) Recall'd his Archer, and with motion due, Bid him advance, the combat to renew. But Phoebus watch'd him with a jealous eye, Fearing some trick was ever lurking nigh, For he would oft, with sudden sly design, Send forth at once two combatants to join His warring troops, against the law of arms, Unless the wary foe was ever in alarms.
Now the white Archer with his utmost force Bent the tough bow against the sable Horse, And drove him from the Queen, where he had stood Hoping to glut his vengeance with her blood. Then the right Elephant with martial pride Roved here and there, and spread his terrors wide: Glittering in arms from far a courser came, Threaten'd at once the King and Royal Dame;
Thought himself safe when he the post had seized, And with the future spoils his fancy pleased. Fired at the danger a young Archer came, Rush'd on the foe, and levell'd sure his aim; (And though a Pawn his sword in vengeance draws, Gladly he'd lose his life in glory's cause.) The whistling arrow to his bowels flew, And the sharp steel his blood profusely drew; He drops the reins, he totters to the ground, And his life issued murm'ring through the wound. Pierced by the Foot, this Archer bit the plain; The Foot himself was by another slain;
And with inflamed revenge, the battle burns again. Towers, Archers, Knights, meet on the crimson ground,
And the field echoes to the martial sound.
Their thoughts are heated, and their courage fired, Thick they rush on with double zeal inspired; Generals and Foot, with different colour'd mien, Confusedly warring in the camps are seen,— Valour and Fortune meet in one promiscuous scene. Now these, victorious, lord it o'er the field; Now the foe rallies, the triumphant yield: Just as the tide of battle ebbs or flows.
As when the conflict more tempestuous grows Between the winds, with strong and boisterous
They plough th' Ionian or Atlantic deep, By turns prevails the mutual blustering roar, And the big waves alternate lash the shore.
« EelmineJätka » |