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ecians headlong to the sea.”

Thus to bold Hector spoke the son of Jove, And breathed immortal ardour from above. As when the pamper’d steed, with reins unbound, Breaks from his stall, and pours along the ground; With ample strokes he rushes to the flood, To bathe his sides, and cool his fiery blood; His head, now freed, he tosses to the skies; His mane dishevell’d o’er his shoulders flies: He snuffs the females in the well-known plain, And springs, exulting, to his fields again: Urged by the voice divine, thus Hector flew, Full of the god; and all his hosts pursue. As when the force of men and dogs combined Invade the mountain goat, or branching hind; Far from the hunter’s rage secure they lie Close in the rock, (not fated yet to die) When lo! a lion shoots across the way! They fly: at once the chasers and the prey. So Greece, that late in conquering troops pursued, And mark’d their progress through the ranks in blood, Soon as they see the furious chief appear, Forget to vanquish, and consent to fear.

Thoas with grief observed his dreadful course, Thoas, the bravest of the Ætolian force; Skill’d to direct the javelin’s distant flight, And bold to combat in the standing fight, Not more in councils famed for solid sense, Than winning words and heavenly eloquence. “Gods! what portent (he cried) these eyes invades? Lo! Hector rises from the Stygian shades! We saw him, late, by thundering Ajax kill’d: What god restores him to the frighted field; And not content that half of Greece lie slain, Pours new destruction on her sons again? He comes not, Jove! without thy powerful will; Lo! still he lives, pursues, and conquers still! Yet hear my counsel, and his worst withstand: The Greeks’ main body to the fleet command; But let the few whom brisker spirits warm, Stand the first onset, and provoke the storm. Thus point your arms; and when such foes appear, Fierce as he is, let Hector learn to fear.”

The warrior spoke; the listening Greeks obey, Thickening their ranks, and form a deep array.

Each Ajax, Teucer, Merion gave command, The valiant leader of the Cretan band; And Mars-like Meges: these the chiefs excite, Approach the foe, and meet the coming fight. Behind, unnumber’d multitudes attend, To flank the navy, and the shores defend. Full on the front the pressing Trojans bear, And Hector first came towering to the war. Phœbus himself the rushing battle led; A veil of clouds involved his radiant head: High held before him, Jove’s enormous shield Portentous shone, and shaded all the field; Vulcan to Jove the immortal gift consign’d, To scatter hosts and terrify mankind, The Greeks expect the shock, the clamours rise From different parts, and mingle in the skies. Dire was the hiss of darts, by heroes flung, And arrows leaping from the bow-string sung; These drink the life of generous warriors slain: Those guiltless fall, and thirst for blood in vain. As long as Phœbus bore unmoved the shield, Sat doubtful conquest hovering o’er the field; But when aloft he shakes it in the skies, Shouts in their ears, and lightens in their eyes, Deep horror seizes every Grecian breast, Their force is humbled, and their fear confess’d. So flies a herd of oxen, scatter’d wide, No swain to guard them, and no day to guide, When two fell lions from the mountain come, And spread the carnage through the shady gloom. Impending Phœbus pours around them fear, And Troy and Hector thunder in the rear. Heaps fall on heaps: the slaughter Hector leads, First great Arcesilas, then Stichius bleeds; One to the bold Bœotians ever dear, And one Menestheus’ friend and famed compeer. Medon and Iasus, Æneas sped; This sprang from Phelus, and the Athenians led; But hapless Medon from Oïleus came; Him Ajax honour’d with a brother’s name, Though born of lawless love: from home expell’d, A banish’d man, in Phylacè he dwell’d, Press’d by the vengeance of an angry wife; Troy ends at last his labours and his life. Mecystes next Polydamas o’erthrew; And thee, brave Clonius, great Agenor slew. By Paris, Deiochus inglorious dies, Pierced through the shoulder as he basely flies. Polites’ arm laid Echius on the plain; Stretch’d on one heap, the victors spoil the slain. The Greeks dismay’d, confused, disperse or fall, Some seek the trench, some skulk behind the wall. While these fly trembling, others pant for breath, And o’er the slaughter stalks gigantic death. On rush’d bold Hector, gloomy as the night; Forbids to plunder, animates the fight, Points to the fleet: “For, by the gods! who flies,[240] Who dares but linger, by this hand he dies; No weeping sister his cold eye shall close, No friendly hand his funeral pyre compose. Who stops to plunder at this signal hour, The birds shall tear him, and the dogs devour.” Furious he said; the smarting scourge resounds; The coursers fly; the smoking chariot bounds; The hosts rush on; loud clamours shake the shore; The horses thunder, earth and ocean roar! Apollo, planted at the trench’s bound, Push’d at the bank: down sank the enormous mound: Roll’d in the ditch the heapy ruin lay; A sudden road! a long and ample way. O’er the dread fosse (a late impervious space) Now steeds, and men, and cars tumultuous pass. The wondering crowds the downward level trod; Before them flamed the shield, and march’d the god. Then with his hand he shook the mighty wall; And lo! the turrets nod, the bulwarks fall: Easy as when ashore an infant stands, And draws imagined houses in the sands; The sportive wanton, pleased with some new play, Sweeps the slight works and fashion’d domes away: Thus vanish’d at thy touch, the towers and walls; The toil of thousands in a moment falls.

The Grecians gaze around with wild despair, Confused, and weary all the powers with prayer: Exhort their men, with praises, threats, commands; And urge the gods, with voices, eyes, and hands. Experienced Nestor chief obtests the skies, And weeps his country with a father’s eyes.

“O Jove! if ever, on his native shore, One Greek enrich’d thy shrine with offer’d gore; If e’er, in hope our country to behold, We paid the fattest firstlings of the fold; If e’er thou sign’st our wishes with thy nod: Perform the promise of a gracious god! This day preserve our navies from the flame, And save the relics of the Grecian name.”

Thus prayed the sage: the eternal gave consent, And peals of thunder shook the firmament. Presumptuous Troy mistook the accepting sign, And catch’d new fury at the voice divine. As, when black tempests mix the seas and skies, The roaring deeps in watery mountains rise, Above the sides of some tall ship ascend, Its womb they deluge, and its ribs they rend: Thus loudly roaring, and o’erpowering all, Mount the thick Trojans up the Grecian wall; Legions on legions from each side arise: Thick sound the keels; the storm of arrows flies. Fierce on the ships above, the cars below, These wield the mace, and those the javelin throw.

While thus the thunder of the battle raged, And labouring armies round the works engaged, Still