And fwear the firftlings of thy flock to pay
On Zelia's altars, to the God of Day.
He heard, and madly, at the motion pleas'd,
His polifh'd bow with hafty rashness seiz'd.
"Twas form'd of horn, and smooth'd with artful toil
A mountain goat refign'd the fhining spoil,
Who pierc'd long fince beneath his arrows bled:7
The ftately quarry on the cliffs lay dead,
And fixteen palms his brow's large honours (pread:
The workmen join'd, and fhap'd the bended horns,
And beaten gold each taper point adorns.
This by the Greeks unfeen, the warrior bends,
Screen'd by the fhields of his furounding friends.
There meditates the mark; and, couching low,
Fits the fharp arrow to the well-ftrung bow.
One from a hundred feather'd deaths he chofe,
Fated to wound, and cause of future woes,
Then offers vows with hecatombs to crown
Apollo's altars in his native town.
Now with full force the yielding horn he bends
Drawn to an arch, and joins the doubling ends;
Close to his breaft he ftrains the nerve below,
Till the barb'd point approach the circling bow;
Th' impatient weapon whizzes on the wing:
Sounds the tough horn, and twangs the quivering
But thee, Atrides! in that dangerous hour [ftring.
The Gods forget not, nor thy guardian power,
Pallas aflifts, and (weaken'd in its force)
Diverts the weapon from its deftin'd course :
So from her babe, when flumber feals his eye,
The watchful mother wafts th' envenom'd fly.
Juft where his belt with golden buckles join'd,
Where linen folds the double corflet lin'd,
She turn'd the shaft, which hiffing from above,
Pafs'd the broad belt, and through the corflet drove:
The folds it pierc'd, the plainted linen tore,
And raz'd the skin, and drew the purple gore.
As when some stately trappings are decreed
To grace a monarch on his bounding steed,
A nymph in Caria or Mæonia bred,
Stains the pure ivory with a lively red:
With equal luftre various colours vie,
The fhining whiteness, and the Tyrian dye :
So, great Atrides! thow'd thy facred blood, [flood.
As down thy fnowy thigh diftill'd the ftreaming
With horror feiz'd, the king of men defcried
That fhaft infix'd, and faw the gushing tide:
Nor lefs the Spartan fear'd, before he found
The fhining barb appear'd above the wound.
Then, with a figh, that heav'd his manly breast,
[round
The royal brother thus his grief exprest,
And grafp'd his hands; while all the Greeks a-
With anfwering fighs return'd the plaintive found:
Oh dear as life! did I for this agree
The folemn truce, a fatal truce to thee!
Wert thou expos'd to all the hoftile train,
To fight for Greece, and conquer to be slain?
The race of Trojans in thy ruin join,
And faith is fcorn'd by all the perjur'd line.
Not thus our vows, confirm'd with wine and gore,
Thofe hands we plighted, and those oaths we fwore,
Shall all be vain: when Heaven's revenge is flow,
Jove but prepares to ftrike the fiercer blow.
The day fhall come, that great avenging day,
Which oy's proud glories in the duft fhall lay.
When Priam's powers and Priam's self shall fall,
And one prodigious ruin iwallow all.
I fee the God, already, from the pole
Bare his red arm, and bid the thunder roll;
I fee th' Eternal all his fury fhed,
And shake his Ægis o'er their guilty head,
Such mighty woes on perjur'd princes wait;
But thou, alas! deferv'ft a happier fate.
Still muft I mourn the period of thy days,
And only mourn, without my fhare of praise ?
Depriv'd of thee, the heartless Greeks no more
Shall dream of conquefts on the hostile fhore;
Troy feiz'd of Helen, and our glory lost,
Thy bones fhall moulder on a foreign coaft:
While fome proud Trojan thus infulting cries,
(And fpurns the duft where Menelaus lies)
"Such are the trophies Greece from Ilion brings,
"And fuch the conquefts of her King of Kings!
"Lo his proud veffels scatter'd o'er the main,
"And unreveng'd his mighty brother flain.”
Oh! ere that dire difgrace fhall blast my fame,
O'erwhelm me, earth! and hide a monarch's
He faid: a leader's and a brother's fears [thame.
Poflefs his foul, which thus the Spartan cheers:
Let not thy words the warmth of Greece abate;
The feeble dart is guiltless of my fate:
Stiff with the rich embroider'd work around,
My varied belt repell'd the flying wound.
To whom the King: My brother and my friend,
Thus, always thus, may Heaven thy life defend!
Now feek fome skilful hand, whose powerful art
May ftaunch the effufion, and extract the dart.
Herald, be fwift, and bid Machäon bring
His fpeedy fuccour to the Spartan king;
Pierc'd with a winged fhaft, (the deed of Troy]
The Grecian's forrow, and the Dardan's joy.
With hafty zeal the fwift Talthybius flies;
Through the thick files he darts his fearching
And finds Machäon, where fublime he stands
In arms encircled with his native bands.
Then thus: Machäon, to the king repair,
His wounded brother claims thy timely care;
Pierc'd by fome Lycian or Dardanian bow,
A grief to us, a triumph to the foe.
The heavy tidings griev'd the godlike man:
Swift to his fuccour through the ranks he ran;
The dauntless king yet standing firm he found,
And all the chiefs in deep concern around,
Where to the steely point the reed was join'd,
The fhaft he drew, but left the head behind.
Straight the broad belt with gay embroidery grac'd,
He loos'd; the corflet from his breaft unbrac'd;
Then fuck'd the blood, and fovereign balm infus'd,
Which Chiron gave, and Æfculapius us'd.
While round the prince the Greeks employ their
The Trojans ruih tumultuous to the war; [care,
Once more they glitter in refulgent arms,
Once more the fields are fill'd with dire alarms,
Nor had you feen the king of men appear
Confus'd, unactive, or furpris'd with fear;
But fond of glory with fevere delight,
His beating bofom claim'd the rifing fight,
No longer with his warlike fteeds he flay'd,
Or prefs'd the car with polish'd brass inlaid;
But left Eurymedon the reins to guide;
The fiery courfers fnorted at his fide.
On foot through all the martial ranks he moves,
And these encourages, and thofe reproves.
Brave men! he cries (to fuch who boldly dare
Urge their swift fteeds to face the coming war)
Your ancient valours on the foes approve;
Jove is with Greece, and let us truft in Jove.
Tis not for us, but guilty Troy to dread,
Whofe crimes fit heavy on her perjur'd head;
Her fons and matrons Greece fhall lead in chains,
And her dead warriors ftrow the mournful plains.
Thus with new ardour he the brave infpires;
Or thus the fearful with reproaches fires:
Shame to your country, fcandal of your kind!
Born to the fate ye well deferve to find!
Why ftand you gazing round the dreadful plain,
Prepar'd for flight, but doom'd to fly in vain?
Confus'd and panting thus, the hunted deer
Falls as he flies, a victim to his fear.
Still mult ye wait the foes, and still retire,
Till you tall veffels blaze with Trojan fire?
Or truft ye, Jove a valiant foe fhall chafe,
To fave a trembling, heartless, dastard race?
This faid, he ftalk'd with ample ftrides along,
To Crete's brave monarch and his martial throng;
High at their head he faw the chief appear,
And bold Meriones excite the rear.
At this the king his generous joy expreft,
And claip'd the warrior to his armed breast:
Divine Idomeneus! what thanks we owe
To worth like thine! what praise hall we bestow?
To thee the foremost honours are decreed,
Firft in the fight, and every graceful deed.
For this, in banquets, when the generous bowls
Reftore our blood, and raife the warriors fouls,
Though all the rest with stated rules we bound,
Unmix'd, unmeafur'd, are thy goblets crown'd.
Be ftill thyself; in arms a mighty name;
Maintain thy honours, and enlarge thy fame.
To whom the Cretan thus his fpeech addreft;
Secure of me, O king! exhort the reft:
Fix'd to thy fide, in every toil I share,
Thy firm alfociate in the day of war.
But let the fignal be this moment given;
To mix in fight is all I ask of Heaven.
The field fhall prove how perjuries fucceed,
And chairs or death avenge their impious deed.
Charm'd with this heat, the king his course
pursues,
And next the troops of either Ajax views:
In one firm orb the bands were rang'd around,
A cloud of heroes blacken'd all the ground.
Thus from the lofty promontory's brow
A fwain furveys the gathering ftorm below;
Slow from the main the heavy vapours rife,
Spread in dim ftreams, and fail along the skies,
Till black at night the fwelling tempeft shows,
The cloud condenfing as the Weit-wind blows:
He dreads th' impending ftorm, and drives his
To the clofe covert of an arching rock. [flock
Sach, and fo thick, th' embattled fquadrons
With spears erect, a moving iron wood; [itood,
A fhady light was fhot from glimmering fhields,
And their brown arms obfcur'd the dulky fields.
O heroes! worthy fuch a dauntless train,
Whole godlike virtue we but urge in vain,
(Exclaim'd the king) who raife your eager bands
With great examples, more than loud commands:
Ah, would the Gods but breathe in all the rest
fach fouls as burn in your exalted breast:
Soon fhould our arms with juft fuccefs be crown'd,
And Troy's proud walls lie fmoking on the ground.
Then to the next the general bends his courfe
(His heart exults, and glories in his force);
There reverend Neftor ranks his Pylian bands,
And with intpiring eloquence commands;
With ftrictett orders fet his train in arms,
The chiefs advises, and the foldiers warms,
Alaftor, Chromius, Hæmon round him wait,
Bias the good, and Pelagon the great.
The horse and chariots to the front affign'd,
The foot (the ftrength of war) he rang'd behind;
The middle fpace fufpected troops fupply,
Inclos'd by both, nor left the power to fly;
He gives command to curb the fiery steed,
Nor caule confufion, nor the ranks exceed, ;
Before the ref let none too rafhly ride;
No ftrength no ikill, but just in time, be try'd :
The charge once made, no warrior turn the rein,
But fight, or fall; a firm embody'd train.
He whom the fortune of the field fhall caft
From forth his chariot, mount the next in hafte;
Nor feek unpractis'd to direct the car,
Content with javelins to provoke the war.
Our great forefathers held this prudent courfe,
Thus rul'd their ardour, thus preferv'd their force,
By laws like these immortal conqueft made,
And earth's proud tyrants low in athes laid.
So fpoke the mafter of the martial art,
And touch'd with transport great Atrides' heart!
Oh! had'st thou ftrength to match thy brave des
And nerves to fecond what thy foul infpires! [fires,
But wafting years, that wither human race,
Exhauft thy fpirits, and thy arms unbrace.
What once thou wert, oh ever might'it thou be!
And age the lot of any chief but thee.
Thus to th' experienc'd prince Atrides cry'd;
He hook his hoary locks, and thus reply'd:
Well might I with, could mortal with renew
That strength which once in boiling youth I knew;
Such as I was, when Ereuthalion flain
Beneath this arm fell proftrate on the plain.
But Heaven its gifts not all at once beftows,
Thefe years with wifdom crowns, with action
thole;
The field of combat fits the young and bold,
The folemn council beft becomes the old:
To you the glorious conflict I refign,
Let fage advice, the palm of age, be mine.
He faid. With joy the monarch march'd before,
And found Menettheus on the dufty fhore,
With whom the firm Athenian phalanx ftands.
And next Ulyffes with his fubject bands.
Remote their forces lay, nor knew so far
The peace infring'd, nor heard the found of war;
The tumult late begun, they ftood intent
To watch the motion, dubious of th' event.
The king, who faw their squadrons yet unmov'd,
With haity ardour thus the chiefs reprov'd :
Can Peleus' fon forget a warrior's part,
And fears Ulyffes, kill'd in every art?
Why ftand you distant, and the reft expect
To mix in combat which yourselves neglect?
From you 'twas hop'd among the first to dare
The fhocks of armies, and commence the war.
For this your names are call'd before the rest
To share the pleasures of the genial feast :
В ці
And can you, chiefs! without a blush survey
Whole troops before you labouring in the fray?
Say, is it thus thofe honours you requite:
The first in banquets, but the last in fight?
Ulyffes heard: the hero's warmth o'erspread
His cheek with blushes: and fevere, he faid:
Take back th' unjust reproach! Behold, we ftand
Sheath'd in bright arms, and but expect command.
If glorious deeds afford thy foul delight,
Behold me plunging in the thickeft fight.
Then give thy warrior-chief a warrior's due,
Who dar'it to act whate'er thou dar'ft to view.
Struck with his generous wrath the king replies;
Oh great in action, and in council wife!
With ours, thy care and ardour are the fame,
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.
Hafte to the fight, fecure of just amends;
The Gods that make, thall keep the worthy, friends.
He faid, and pafs'd where great Tydides lay,
His fteeds and chariots wedg'd in firm array:
(The warlike Sthenelus attends his fide)
To whom with ftern reproach the monarch cry'd;
Oh fon of Tydeus! (he, whose strength could tame
The bounding fteed, in arms a mighty name)
Can't thou, remote, the mingling hoits defcry,
With hands unactive, and a careless eye?
Not thus thy fire the fierce encounter fear'd;
Still firft in front the matchlets prince appear'd;
What glorious toils, what wonders they recite,
Who view'd him labouring through the ranks of
fight!
I faw him once, when, gathering martial power,
A peaceful gueft, he fought Mycena's tower;
Armies he ask'd, and armies had been given,
Not we deny'd, but Jove forbade from heaven;
While dreadfui comets glaring from afar
Forewarn'd the horrors of the Theban war.
Next, fent by Greece from where Afopus flows,
A fearless envoy, he approach'd the foes;
Thebe's hoftile 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 thofe chiefs around;
Dar'd and fubdued, before their haughty lord;
For Pallas ftrung his arm, and edg'd his fword.
Stung with the flame, within the winding way,
To bar his paffage fifty warriors lay;
Two heroes led the fecret fquadron on,
Mæon the fierce, and hardy Lycophon;
Thofe fifty flaughter'd in the gloomy vale,
He fpar'd but one to bear the dreadful tale.
Such Tydeus was, and fuch his martial fire.
Gods! how the fon, degenerates from the fire!
No words the godlike Diomed return'd,
But heard respectful, and in fecret burn'd:
Not fo fierce Capaneus' undaunted fon,
Stern as his fire, the boafter thus begun :
What needs, O monarch, this invidious praife,
Ourfeives to leffen, while our fires you raife?
Dare to be just, Atrides! and confeis
Our valour equal, though our fury lefs,
With fewer troops we ftorm'd the Theban wall,
And happier faw the fevenfold city fall.
In impious acts the guilty father's dy'd ;
The fons fubdued, for heaven was on their fide.
Far more than heirs of all our parents fame,
Our glories darken their diminish'd name.
To him Tydides thus: My friend, forbear,
Supprefs thy paffion, and the king revere :
His high concern may well excufe this rage,
Whofe caufe we follow, and whofe war we wage;
His the firft praife, were Ilion's towers o'erthrown,
And, if we fail, the chief difgrace 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 refound. Dire was the clang, and dreadful from afar, Of arm'd Tydides rufhing to the war. As when the winds, afcending by degrees, First move the whitening furface of the feas, The billows float in order to the shore, The wave behind rolls on the wave before; Till, with the growing ftorm, the deeps arife, Foam o'er the rocks, and thunder to the skies. So to the fight the thick battalions throng, Shields urged on shields, and men drove men along. Sedate and filent move the numerous bands; No found, no whifper, but the chief's commands, Thofe only heard; with awe the rest obey, As if fome God had fnatch'd their voice away. Not fo the Trojans; from their hoft ascends A general fhout 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 inceffant bleating fills, The lambs reply from all the neighbouring hills: Such clamours rofe from various nations round, Mix'd was the murmur, and confus'd the found. Each hoft now joins, and each a God inspires, Thefe Mars incites, and thofe Minerva fires. Pale Flight around, and dreadful Terror reign; And Difcord raging bathes the purple plain; Difcord! dire fifter of the flaughtering power, Small at her birth, but rifing every hour, While scarce the fkies her horrid head can bound, She talks on earth, and shakes the world around; The nations bleed, where'er her fteps the turns, The groan ftill deepens, and the combat burns. Now shield with fhield, with helmet helmet
To armour armour, lance to lance oppos'd,
Hoft against hoft, with fhady fquadrons drew,
The founding darts in iron tempefts flew,
Victors and vanquish'd join promifcuous cries,
And thrilling fhouts and dying groans arife;
With streaming blood the flippery fields are dy'd,
And flaughter'd heroes fwell 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 diftant thepherd trembling hears the found:
So mix both hofts, and fo their cries rebound.
The bold Antilochus the flaughter led,
The first who ftruck a valiant Trojan dead:
At great Echepolas the lance arrives;
Raz'd his high creft, and through his hemlet drives;
Warm'd in the brain the brazen weapon lies,
And fhades eternal fettle o'er his eyes.
So finks a tower, that long affaults had stood
Of force and fire; its walls befmear'd, with blood.
Him, the bold + leader of th' Abantian throng
Seiz'd to defpoil, and dragg'd the corpfe along:
But while he ftrove to tug th' inferted dart,
Agenor's javelin reach'd the hero's heart.
His flank, unguarded by his ample shield,
Admits the lance: he falls, and fpurns the field;
The nerves, unbræc'd, fupport his limbs no more;
The foul comes floating in a tide of gore.
Trojans and Greeks now gather round the flain;
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 Simoïfius fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the fhades of hell:
Fair Simoïfius, whom his mother bore,
Amid the flocks on filver Simois' fhore :
The nymph descending from the hills of Ide,
To feek her parents on his flowery fide,
Brought forth the babe, their common care and
joy,
And thence from Simois nam'd the lovely boy.
Short was his date! by dreadful Ajax flain
He falls, and renders all their cares in vain!
So falls a poplar, that in watery ground
Rais'd high the head, with stately branchescrown'd,
(Feli'd by fome artist with his fhining steel,
To fhape the circle of the bending wheel)
Cut down it lies, tali, smooth and largely fpread,
With all its beauteous honours on its head;
There, left a subject to the wind and rain,
And fcorch'd by fans, it withers on the plain.
Thus pierc'd by Ajax, Simoïfius lies
Stretch'd on the thore, and thus neglected dies.
At Ajax Antiphus his javelin threw;
The pointed lance with erring fury flew,
And Leucus, lov'd by wife Ulyffes, flew.
He drops the corpse of Simoïfius flain,
And finks a breathlefs carcafe on the plain.
This faw Ulyffes, and with grief enrag'd
Strode where the foremost of the foes engag'd;
Arm'd with his fpear, he meditates the wound,
In act to throw ; but, cautious, look'd around.
Struck at his fight the Trojans backward drew,
And trembling heard the javelin as it flew.
A chief ftood nigh, who from Abydos came,
Old Priam's fon, Democoon was his name;
The weapon enter'd close above his ear,
Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear;
With piercing threaks the youth refigns his breath,
His eye-balls darken with the fhades of death;
Ponderous he falls; his clanging arms refound;
And his broad buckler rings against the ground.
Seiz'd with affright the boldeft foes appear;
Ev'n godlike Hector feems himself to fear;
↑ Elphenor,
Slow he gave way, the reft tumultuous fled;
The Greeks with fhouts prefs on and spoil the dead:
But Phoebus now from Ilion's towering height
Shines forth reveai'd, and animates the fight.
Trojans, be bold, and force with force oppofe;
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 you forgot what feem'd your dread before?
The great, the fierce Achilles fights no more.
Apollo thus from Ilion's lofty towers
Array'd in terrors, rouz'd the Trojan powers:
While War's fierce Goddess fires the Grecian foe,
And fhouts and thunders in the fields below.
Then great Diores, fell by doom divine,
In vain his valour, and illuftrious line.
A broken rock the force of Pirus threw
(Who from cold Anus led the Thracian crew);
Full on his ankle dropt the ponderous stone,
Burst the strong nerves, and crash'd the folid bone.
Supine he tumbles on the crimson fands,
Before his helpless friends and native bands,
And fpreads for aid his unavailing hands.
The foe ruth'd furious as he pants for breath,
And through his navel drove the pointed death:
His gufhing entrails fmok'd upon the ground,
And the warm life came iffuing from the wound.
His lance bold Thoas at the conqueror fent,
Deep in his breaft above the pap it went.
Amid the lungs was fix'd the winged wood,
And quivering in his heaving bofom stood :
Till from the dying chief, approaching near,
Th' Ætolian warrior tugg'd his weighty fpear:
Then fudden wav'd his flaming faulchion round,
And gafh'd his belly with a ghaftly wound,
The corpfe now breathlefs on the bloody plain,
To fpoil his arms the victor ftrove in vain;
The Thracian bands against the victor preft;
A grove of lances glitter'd at his breast.
Stern Thoas, glaring with revengeful eyes, -
In fullen fury flowly quits the prize.
Thus fell two heroes; one the pride of Thrace,
And one the leader of the Epian race:
Death's fable fhade at once o'er caft their eyes,
In duft the vanquish'd, and the victor lies.
With copious flaughter all the fields are red,
And heap'd with growing mountains of the dead.
Had fome brave chief this martial scene beheld,
By Pallas guarded through the dreadful field;
Might darts be bid to turn their points away,
And fwords around him innocently play;
The war's whole art, with wonder had he seen,
And counted heroes where he counted men.
So fought each hoft with thirft of glory fir'd,
And crowds on crowds triumphantly expir'd.
THE ARGUMENT.
The As of Diomed.
DIOMED, affifted by Pallas, performs wonders in this day's battle. Pandarus wounds him with an ar row, but the Goddess cures him, enables him to difcern Gods from mortals, and prohibits him from
rus is killed, and Æneas in great danger, but for the affiftance of Venus; who, as fhe is removing her fon from the fight, is wounded in the hand by Diomed. Apollo feconds her in his refcue, and at length carries off AEneas to Troy, where he is healed in the temple of Pergamus. Mars rallies the Trojans, and affifts Hector to make a stand. In the mean time Æneas is restored to the field, and they overthrow several of the Greeks; among the reft Tlepolemus is flain by Sarpedon. Juno and Minerva defcend to refift Mars; the latter incites Diomed to go against that God; he wounds him, and fends him groaning to heaven.
The first battle continues through this book.
The scene is the fame as in the former.
BUT Pallas now Tydides' foul inspires,
Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires,
Above the Greeks his deathlefs fame to raise,
And crown her hero with diftinguish'd praise.
High on his helm celeftial lightnings play,
His beamy fhield emits a living ray;
Th' unweary'd blaze inceffant ftreams fupplies,
Like the red ftar that fires th' autumnal skies,
When fresh he rears his radiant orb to fight,
And, bath'd in Ocean, fhoots a keener light.
Such glories Pallas on the chief beftow'd,
Such, from his arms, the fierce effulgence flow'd:
Onward the drives him, furious to engage,
Where the fight burns, and where the thickeft
The fons of Dares firft the combat fought, A wealthy prieft, but rich without a fault; In Vulcan's fane the father's days were led, The fons to toils of glorious battle bred; Thefe fingled 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 caft his founding fpear, Which o'er the warrior's fhoulder took its courfe, And spent in empty air its erring force. Not fo, Tydides, flew thy lance in vain,
But pierc'd his breast, and stretch'd him on the Seiz'd with unusual fear, Idæus fled,
Left the rich chariot, and his brother dead,
And, had not Vulcan lent his celeftial aid,
He too had funk to death's eternal shade;
But in a smoky cloud the God of fire
Preferv'd the fon, in pity to the fire.
The steeds and chariot, to the navy led,
Encreas'd the spoils of gallant Diomed.
Struck with amaze and fhame, the Trojan crew
Or flain, or fled, the fons of Dares view;
When by the blood-ftain'd hand Minerva prest
The God of battles, and this speech addreft:
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 whofe the conqueft 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;
Remov'd from fight, on Xanthus' flowery bounds
They fat, and liftened to the dying founds.
Mean time the Greeks the Trojan race purfue,
And fome bold chieftain every leader flew :
Firft Odius falls, and bites the bloody fand,
His death ennobled by Atrides' hand;
As he to flight his wheeling car addreft,
The speedy javelin drove from back to breast.
In duft the mighty Halizonian lay,
His arms refound, the fpirit wings its way.
Thy fate was next, O Phæftus! doom'd to feel The great Idomeneus' portended steel; Whom Borus fent (his fon, and only joy) From fruitful Tarne to the fields of Troy. The Cretan javelin reach'd him from afar, And pierc'd his fhoulder as he mounts his car; Back from the car he tumbles to the ground, And everlasting fhades his eyes furround.
Then dy'd Scamandrius, expert in the chafe, In woods and wilds to wound the favage 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 arrefts him as he flies; From Menelaus' arm the weapon fent, Through his broad back and heaving bofor
Down finks the warrior with a thundering found,
His brazen armour rings against the ground.
Next artful Phereclus untimely fell;
Bold Merion fent him to the realms of hell,
Thy father's kill, O Phereclus, was thine,
The graceful fabric and the fair defign;
For, lov'd by Pallas, Pallas did impart
To him the fhipwright's and the builder's art.
Beneath his hand the fleet of Paris rofe,
The fatal caufe of all his country's woes;
But he, the myftic will of Heaven unknown,
Nor faw his country's peril, nor his own.
The hapless artift, while confus'd he filed,
The fpear of Merion mingled with the dead,
Through his right hip with forceful fury caft,
Between the bladder and the bone it paft:
Prone on his knees he falls with fruitless cries,
And death, in lasting flumber feals his eyes.
From Meges' force the fwift Pedzus fied,
Antenor's offspring from a foreign bed,
Whose generous fpoufe, Theano, heavenly fair,
Nurs'd the young stranger with a mother's care.
How vain thofe cares! when Meges in the rear
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,
Prieft of the stream, and honour'd as a Ged.
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 ftain'd with facred blood the blushing fand.
Down funk the priest; the purple hand of death
Clos'd his dim eye, and fate fupprefs'd his breath.
Thus toil'd the chiefs, in different parts engag In every quarter fierce Tydides rag'd,
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