he parting waves before his coursers fly; The wondering waters leave his axle dry. Deep in the liquid regions lies a cave; Between where Tenedos the surges lave, And rocky Imbrus breaks the rolling wave: There the great ruler of the azure round Stopp'd his swift chariot, and his steeds unbound, Fed with ambrosial herbage from his hand, And link'd their fetlocks with a golden band, nfrangible, immortal: there they stay, The father of the floods pursues his way; Where, like a tempest darkening heaven around, Or fiery deluge that devours the ground, Th' impatient Trojans, in a gloomy throng, Embattled roll'd, as Hector rush'd along: To the loud tumult and the barbarous cry, The Heavens re-echo, and the shores reply; They vow destruction to the Grecian name, And in their hopes, the fleets already flame,

But Neptune, rising from the seas profound, The God whose earthquakes rock the solid ground, Now wears a mortal form; like Calchas seen, Such his loud voice, and such his manly mien; His shouts incessant every Greek inspire,

But most th' Ajaces, adding fire to fire.

'Tis yours, O warriors, all our hopes to raise ; Oh,recollect your ancient worth and praise: 'Tis yours to save us, if you cease to fear; Flight, more than shameful, is destructive here. On other works though Troy with fury fall, And pour her armies o'er our batter'd wall; There, Greece has strength: but this, this part o'erthrown,

Her strength were vain; I dread for you alone.
Here Hector rages like the force of fire,

Vaunts of his Gods, and calls high Jove his sire.
If yet some heavenly power your breast excite,
Breathe in your hearts, and string your arms to fight,

Greece yet may live, her threaten'd fleet remain;
And Hector's force, and Jove's own aid, be vai.
Then with his sceptre that the deep controls,
He touch'd the chiefs, and steel'd their manly souls:
Strength, not their own, the touch divine imparts,
Prompts their light limbs, and swells their daring hearts
Then as a falcon from the rocky height,

Her quarry seen, impetuous at the sight,
Forth-springing, instant darts herself from high
Shoots on the wing, and skims along the sky:
Such, and so swift the power of Ocean flew;
The wide horizon shut him from their view.
Th' inspiring God, Oïleus' active son
Perceiv'd the first, and thus to Telamon:

Some God, my friend, some God in human form
Favouring descends, and wills to stand the storm.
Not Calchas this, the venerable seer;

Short as he turn'd, I saw the Power appear:
I mark'd his parting, and the steps he trod;
His own bright evidence reveals a God.
E'en now some energy divine I share,
And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air!
With equal ardour (Telamon returns)
My soul kindled, and my bosom burns:
New rising spirits all my force alarm,

Lift each impatient limb, and brace my arm.
This ready arm, unthinking, shakes the dart;
The blood pours back, and fortifies my heart;
Singly, methinks, yon towering chief I meet,
And stretch the dreadful Hector at my feet.

Full of the God that urg'd their burning breast,
The heroes thus their mutual warmth exprest.
Neptune meanwhile the routed Greeks inspir'd,
Who, breathless, pale, with length of labours tir'd,
Pant in the ships; while Troy to conquest calls,
And swarms victorious o'er their yielding walls:
Trembling before th' impending storm: they lie,
While tears of rage stand burning it. their eye.

Greece sunk they thought, and this their fatal hour;
But breathe new courage as they feel the Power.
T'eucer and Leitus first his words excite;

Then stern Peneleus rises to the fight:
Thoäs, Deipyrus, in arms renown'd,

And Merion next, th' impulsive fury found;
Last Nestor's son the same bold ardour takes,
While thus the God the martial fire awakes:
Off lasting infamy, oh dire disgrace

To chiefs of vigorous youth and manly race!
I trusted in the Gods, and you, to see

Brave Greece victorious, and her navy free:
Ah no-the glorious combat you disclaim,
And one black day clouds all her former fame,
Heavens! what a prodigy these eyes survey,
Unseen, unthought, till this aunazing day!
Fly we at length from Troy's oft-conquer'd hands?
And falls our fleet by such inglorious hands?
A rout undisciplin'd, a straggling train,
Not born to glories of the dusty plain;
Like frighted fawns, from hill to hill pursu'd,
A prey to every savage of the wood:

Shall these, so late who trembled at your name,
Invade your camps, involve your ships in flame?
A change so shameful, say, what cause has wrought
The soldier's baseness, or the general's fault?
Fools! will ye perish for your leader's vice;
The purchase infamy, and life the price?
'Tis not your cause, Achilles' injur'd fame:
Another's is the crime, but yours the shame.
Grant that our chief offend through rage or lust,
Must you be cowards, if your king's unjust?
Prevent this evil, and your country save:
Small thought retrieves the spirit of the brave.
Think, and subdue! on dastards dead to fame
I waste no anger, for they feel no shame:
But you, the pride, the flower of all our host
My heart weeps blood to see your glory lost:

Nor deem this day, this battle, all you lose;
A day more black, a fate more vile ensues.
Let each reflect, who prizes fame or breath,
On endless infamy, on instant death:
For lo! the fated time, th' appointed shore;
Hark! the gates burst, the brazen barriers roar !
Impetuous Hector thunders at the wall;
The hour, the spot, to conquer, or to fall.

These words the Grecians' fainting hearts inspire,
And listening armies catch the godlike fire.
Fix'd at his post was each bold Ajax found,
With well-rang'd squadrons strongly circled round:
So close their order, so dispos'd their fight,
As Pallas' self might view with fix'd delight;
Or had the God of War inclin'd his eyes,
The God of War had own'd a just surprise.
A chosen phalanx, firm, resolv'd as Fate,
Descending Hector and his battle wait.
An iron scene gleams dreadful o'er the fields,
Armour in armour lock'd, and shields in shields,
Spears lean on spears, on targets targets throng,
Helms stuck to helms, and man drove man along.
The floating plumes unnumber'd wave above,
As when an earthquake stirs the nodding grove;
And, levell'd at the skies with pointing rays,
Their brandish'd lances at each motion blaze.

Thus breathing death, in terrible array, The close-compacted legions urg'd their way: Fierce they drove on, impatient to destroy; Troy charg'd the first, and Hector first of Troy. As from some mountain's craggy forehead torn, A rock's round fragment flies, with fury borne, (Which from the stubborn stone a torrent rends) Precipitate the ponderous mass descends: From steep to steep the rolling ruin bounds; At every shock the crackling wood resounds; Still gathering force, it smokes; and, urg'd amain, Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain:

There stops--So Hector. Their whole force he prov'd,
Resistless when he rag'd, and when he stopt, unmov'd.
On him the war is bent, the darts are shed,
And all their falchions wave around his head:
Repuls'd he stands, nor from his stand retires;
But with repeated shouts his army fires.

Trojans! be firm; this arm shall make your way
Through yon square body, and that black array.
Stand, and my spear shall rout their scattering power,
Strong as they seem, embattled like a tower.
For he that Juno's heavenly bosom warms,
The first of Gods, this day inspires our arms.
He said, and rous'd the soul in every breast;
Urg'd with desire of fame, beyond the rest,
Forth march'd Deïphobus; but, marching, held
Before his wary steps his ample shield.

Bold Merion aim'd a stroke (nor aim'd it wide)
The glittering javelin pierc'd the tough bull hide;
But pierc'd not through: unfaithful to his hand,
The point broke short, and sparkled in the sand.
The Trojan warrior, touch'd with timely fear,
On the rais'd orb to distance bore the spear:
'The Greek retreating mourn'd his frustrate blow,
And curs'd the treacherous lance that spar'd a foe,
Then to the ships with surly speed he went,
To seek a surer javelin in his tent.

Meanwhile with rising rage the battle glows,
The tumult thickens, and the clamour grows.
By Teucer's arm the warlike Imbrius bleeds,
The son of Mentor, rich in generous steeds.
Ere yet to Troy the sons of Greece were led,
In fair Pedæus' verdant pastures bred,

The youth had dwelt; remote from war's alarms,
And bless'd in bright Medesicaste's arms:
(This nymph, the fruit of Priam's ravish'd joy,
Ally'd the warrior to the house of Troy.)

To Troy, when glory call'd his arms, he came,
And match'd the bravest of her chiefs in fame: