His fhoulder-blade receives the fatal wound
The groaning warrior pants upon the ground.
His troops, that fee their country's glory ilain,
Fly diverse, fcatter'd o'er the distant plain.
Patroclus' arm forbids the fpreading fires,
And from the half-burn'd fhip proud Troy retires:
Clear'd from the fmoke the joyful navy lies:
In heaps on heaps the foe tumultuous flies;
Triumphant Greece her rescued decks afcends,
And loud acclaim the ftarry region rends.

So, when thick clouds inwrap the mountain's head, O'er heaven's expanfe like one black cieling spread.

Sudden the Thunderer, with a flashing ray, [day:
Burts through the darknefs, and lets down the
The hills thine out, the rocks in profpect rife,
And streams, and vales, and forefts, itrike the eyes;
The fmiling fcene wide opens to the fight,
And all th' unmeafur'd æther flames with light.

But Troy repuis'd, and scatter'd o'er the plains,
Forc'd from the navy, yet the fight maintains.
Now every Greek fome hoftile hero flew,
But ftill the foremost bold Patroclus flew ;
As Arielycus had turn'd him round,
Sharp in his thigh he felt the piercing wound;
The brazen pointed fpear, with vigour thrown,
The thigh transfix'd, and broke the brittle bone :
Headlong he fell. Next, Thoas, was thy chance,
Thy breaft, unarm'd, receiv'd the Spartan lance.
Thylides' dart (as Amphiclus drew nigh)

His blow prevented, and tranfpierc'd his thigh, Tore all the brawn, and rent the nerves away; In darknets and in death the warrior lay.

In equal arms two fons of Neftor stand,
And two bold brothers of the Lycian band:
By great Antilochus, Atymnius dies,
Pierc'd in the flank, lamented youth he lies.
Kind Maris, bleeding in his brother's wound,
Defends the breathlefs carcafe on the ground:
Furious he flies, his murderer to engage;
But godlike Thrafimed prevents his rage,
Between his arm and fhoulder aims a blow;
His arm falls fpouting on the duit below :
He finks, with endiefs darkness cover'd o'er;
And vents his foul, effus'd with guthing gore.
Slain by two brothers, thus two brothers bleed,
Sarpedon's friends, Amifodarus' feed;
Amifodarus, who, by Furies led,

The bane of men, abhorr'd Chimera bred;
Skill'd in the dart in vain, his fons expire,
And pay the forfeit of their guilty fire.

Stopp'd in the tumult, Cleobulus lies
Beneath Oileus' arm, a living prize;
A living prize not long the Trojan ftood;
The thirty falchion drank his reeking blood:
Plung'd in his throat the fmoking weapon lies;
Black death, and fate unpitying, feal his eyes.

Amid the ranks, with mutual thirst of fame, Lycon the brave, and fierce Peneleus, came; In vain their javelins at each other flew, Now met in arms, their eager fwords they drew. On the plum'd creft of his Boeotian foe, The daring Lycon aim'd a noble blow; The fword broke fhort; but his, Peneleus fped Full on the juncture of the neck and head: The head, divided by a ftroke fo just, Hang by the kin: the body funk to duft.

O'ertaken Neamas by Merion bleeds,
Pierc'd through the fhoulder as he mounts his
feeds;

Back from the car he tumbles to the ground:
His fwimming eyes eternal fhades furround.

Next Erymas was doom'd his fate to feel,
His open'd mouth receiv'd the Cretan steel:
Beneath the brain the point a paffage tore,
Crash'd the thin bones, and drown'd the teeth in

gore:

His mouth, his eyes, his noftrils, pour a flood;
He fobs his foul out in the gufh of blood.

As when the flocks, neglected by the swain
(Or kids, or lambs) he scatter'd o'er the plain,
A troop of wolves th' unguarded charge furvey,
And rend the trembling, unrefifting prey:
Thus on the foe the Greeks impetuous came;
Troy fled, unmindful of her former fame.

But still at Hector godlike Ajax aim'd, Still pointed at his breaft his javelin flam'd: The Trojan chief, experienc'd in the field, O'er his broad shoulders spread the maily shield, Obferv'd the ftorm of darts the Grecians pour, And on his buckler caught the ringing shower. He fees for Greece the fcale of conquest rife, Yet ftops, and turns, and faves his lov'd allies.

As when the hand of Jove a tempest forms, And rolls the clouds to blacken heaven with ftorms,

Dark o'er the fields th' afcending vapour flies,
And fhades the fun, and blots the golden fkies:
So from the fhips, along the duiky plain,
Dire Flight and Terror drove the Trojan train.
Ev'n Hector fled; through heaps of difarray
The fiery courfers forc'd their lord away:
While far behind his Trojans fall confus'd;
Wedg'd in the trench, in one vaft carnage bruis'd:
Chariots on chariots roll; the clafhing fpokes
Shock; while the madding steeds break thort their
yokes:

In vain they labour up the steepy mound;
Their charioteers lie foaming on the ground.
Fierce on the rear, with fhouts, Patroclus flies;
Tumultuous clamour fills the fields and skies;
Thick drifts of duft involve their rapid flight;
Clouds rife on clouds, and heaven is fnatch'd from
fight.

Th' affiighted feeds, their dying lords caft down,
Scour o'er the fields, and ftretch to reach the town
Loud o'er the rout was heard the victor's cry,
Where the war bleeds, and where the thickest die,
Where horse, and arms, and chariots lie o'erthrown,
And bleeding heros under axles groan.

No ftop, no check, the fteeds of Peleus knew;
From bank to bank th' immortal courfers flew,
High-bounding o'er the foffe : the whirling car
Smokes through the ranks, o'ertakes the flying
And thunders after Hector; Hector flies, [war,
Patroclus shakes his lance; but Fate denies.
Not with lefs noife, with lefs impetuous force,
The tide of Trojans urge their defperate courle,
Than when in Autumn Jove his fury pours,
And earth is loaden with inceffant showers
(When guilty mortals break th' eternal laws,
Or judges, brib'd, betray the righteous caute);
From their deep beds he bids the rivers rife,
And opens all the flood-gates of the fkies:

Timpetuous torrents from their hills obey,
Whole fields are drown'd, and mountains fwept
away;

Loud roars the deluge till it meets the main;
And trembling man fees all his labours vain.
And now the chief (the foremoít troops repell'd)
Back to the thips his deitin'd progrefs held,
Bore down half Troy in his refiftless way,
And forc'd the routed ranks to stand the day.
Between the space where filver Simoïs flows,
Where lay the fleets, and where the rampires
rofe,

All grim in duft and blood, Patroclus ftands,
And turns the laughter on the conquering bands.
Firit Pronous died beneath his fiery dart,
Which pierc❜d below the fhield his valiant heart,
Theftor was next; who faw the chief appear,
And fell the victim of his coward fear;
Shrank-up he fat, with wild and haggard eye,
Nor food to combat, nor had force to fly;
Patroclas mark'd him as he fhunn'd the war,
And with unmanly tremblings shook the car,
And dropp'd the flowing reins. Him 'twixt the
jaws

The javelin ticks, and from the chariot draws.
As on a rock that over-hangs the main,
An angler, studious of the line and cane,
Some mighty fish draws panting to the shore ;
Not with lefs eafe the barbed javelin bore
The gaping daftard: as the fpear was hook,
He fell, and life his heartless breast forfook.
Next on Eryalus he flies; a stone,
Large as a rock, was by his fury thrown:
Full on his crown the ponderous fragment flew,
And burst the heim, and cleft the head in two
Prone to the ground the breathlefs warrior fell,
And death involv'd him with the fhades of hell.
Then low in duft Epaltes, Echius lie;
Ipheas, Evippus, Polymelus, die;
Amphoterus, and Erymas fucceed;
And lat Tlepolemus and Pyres bleed.
Where'er he moves, the growing flaughters spread
In heaps on heaps; a monument of dead.

When now Sarpedon his brave friends beheld
Gravelling in duft, and gasping on the field,
With this reproach his flying hoft he warms:
O ftain to honour! oh difgrace to arms!
Forfake, inglorious, the contended plain;
This hand, unaided, fhall the war fuftain:
The talk be mine, this hero's ftrength to try,
Who mows whole troops, and makes an army fly.
He fpake; and, fpeaking, leaps from off the car;
Patroclus lights, and sternly waits the war.
As when two vultures on the mountains height
Stoop with refounding pinions to the fight;
They caff, they tear, they raise a screaming cry:
The defart echoes, and the rocks reply:
The warriors thus, oppos'd in arms, engage
With equal clamours, and with equal rage.
Jove view'd the combat; whofe event foreseen,
He thus befpoke his Sifter and his Queen :
The hour draws on; the Deftinies ordain,
My godlike fon fhall prefs the Phrygian plain :
Already on the verge of death he stands,
His life is ow'd to ɓerce Patroclus' hands.
What paffions in a parent's breast debate!
Yay, all I fnatch him from impending fate,

And fend him safe to Lycia, distant far From all the dangers and the toils of war; Or to his doom my bravest offspring yield, And fatten with celeftial blood the field?

Then thus the Goddess with the radiant eyes: What words are these? O Sovereign of the Skies! Short is the date prefcrib'd to mortal man; Shall Jove, for one, extend the narrow span, Whofe bounds were fix'd before his race began? How many fons of Gods, foredoom'd to death, Before proud Ilion must refign their breath! Were thine exempt, debate would rife above, And murmuring powers condemn their partial Jove.

Give the bold chief a glorious fate in fight;
And, when th' afcending foul has wing'd her
flight,

Let Sleep and Death convey, by thy command,
The breathless body to his native land.
His friends and people, to his future praise,
A marble tomb and pyramid fhall raife,
And lafting honours to his afhes give ;
His fame (tis all the dead can have) fhall live.
She faid; the Cloud-compeller, overcome,
Affents to fate, and ratifies the doom. [till'd
Then, touch'd with grief, the weeping heavens dif-
A fhower of blood o'er all the fatal field:
The God, his eyes averting from the plain
Laments his fon, predeftin'd to be flain,
Far from the Lycian fhores, his happy native
reign.

Now met in arms, the combatants appear,
Each heav'd the fhield, and pois'd the lifted fpear:
From ftrong Patroclus' hand the javelin fled,
And pafs'd the groin of valiant Thrafy med;
The nerves unbrac'd, no more his bulk fuftain,
He falls, and falling bites the bloody plain.
Two founding darts the Lycian leader threw;
The first aloof with erring fury flew,
The next tranfpierc'd Achilles' mortal steed,
The generous Pedafus of Theban breed;
Fix'd in the fhoulder's joint, he reel'd around,
Roll'd in the bloody duft, and paw'd the flippery
ground.

His fudden fall th' entangled harness broke;
Each axle crackled, and the chariot shook :
When bold Automedon, to difengage
The starting courfers, and reftrain their rage,
Divides the traces with his fword, and freed
Th' incumber'd chariot from the dying fteed:
The rest move on, obedient to the rein;
The car rolls flowly o'er the dusty plain,

The towering chiefs to fiercer fights advance,
And firft Sarpedon whirl'd his weighty lance,
Which o'er the warrior's fhoulder took its course,
And spent in empty air its dying force.
Not fo Patroclus' never-erring dart:
Aim'd at his breaft, it pierc'd the mortal part,
Where the frong fibres bind the folid heart;
Then, as the mountain oak, or poplar tall,
Or pine, (fit maft for fome great admiral)
Nods to the axe, till with a groaning found
It finks, and spreads its honours on the ground:
Thus fell the king; and, laid on earth fupine,
Eefore his chariot ftretch'd his form divine:
He grafp'd the duft diftain'd with ftreaming gore,
And, pale in death, lay groaning on the fhore.

So lies a bull beneath the lion's paws,
While the grim favage grinds with foamy jaws
The trembling limbs, and fucks the fmoking
blood;
[the wood.
Deep groans, and hollow roars, re-bellow through
Then to the leader of the Lycian band
The dying chief addrefs'd his last command:
Glaucus, be bold; thy tafk be first to dare
The glorious dangers of deftructive war,
To lead my troops, to combat at their head,
Incite the living, and fupply the dead.
Tell them, I charg'd them with my latest breath
Not unreveng'd to bear Sarpedon's death.
What grief, what fhame, muft Glaucus undergo,
If these spoil'd arms adorn a Grecian foe!
Then as a friend, and as a warrior, fight;
Defend my body, conquer in my right;
That, taught by great examples, all may try
Like thee to vanquish, or like me to die.

He ceas'd; the Fates fupprefs'd his labouring
breath,

And his eyes darken'd with the fhades of death.
Th' infulting victor with disdain bestrode
The proftrate prince, and on his bofom trod;
Then drew the weapon from his panting heart,
The reeking fibres clinging to the dart;

From the wide wound gufh'd out a ftream of blood,

And the foul iffued in the purple flood.

His flying steeds the Myrmidons detain,
Unguided now, their mighty mafter flain.
All-impotent of aid, transfix'd with grief,
Unhappy Giaucus heard the dying chief.
His painful arm, yet useless with the smart
Inflicted late by Teucer's deadly dart,
Supported on his better hand he stay'd;
To Phoebus then, ('twas all he could) he pray'd:
All-feeing monarch! whether Lycia's coaft,
Or facred lion, thy bright presence boaft,
Powerful alike to eafe the wretch's fmart!
O hear me! God of every healing art!
Lo ftiff with clotted blood, and pierc'd with
pain,

That thrills my arm, and fhoots thro' every vein,
I ftand, unable to fuftain the fpear,
And figh, at diftance from the glorious war.
Low in the duft is great Sarpedon laid,
Nor Jove vouchfaf'd his haplefs offspring aid.
But thou, O God of Health! thy fuccour lend,
To guard the reliques of my flaughter'd friend.
For thou, though diftant, canft restore my might,
To head my Lycians, and fupport the fight.

Apollo heard; and, fuppliant as he stood,
His heavenly hand reftrain'd the flux of blood:
He drew the dolours from the wounded part,
And breath'd a spirit in his rifing heart:
Renew'd by art divine, the hero ftands,
And owns th' affiftance of immortal hands.
First to the fight his native troops he warms,
Then loudly calls on Troy's vindictive arms:
With ample ftrides he talks from place to place;
Now fires Agenor, now Polydamas;
Æneas next, and Hector, he accofts;
Inflaming thus the rage of all their hofts:
What thoughts, regardlefs chief! thy breaft
employ?

Oh too forgetful of the friends of Troy !

Thofe generous friends, who, from their country

far,

Breathe their brave fouls out in another's war.
See where in dut the great Sarpedon lies,
In action valiant, and in council wife,
Wno guarded right, and kept his people free;
To all his Lycians loft, and loft to thee!.
Stretch'd by Patroclus' arm on yonder plains,
O fave from hoftile rage his lov'd remains:
Ah let not Greece his conquer'd trophies boast,
Nor on his coft revenge her heroes loft.

He ipcke; each leader in his grief partook,
Troy, at the lofs, through all her legions fhook.
Transfix'd with deep regret, they view o'erthrown
At once his country's pillar, and their own;
A chief, who led to Troy's beleaguer'd wall
A host of heroes, and out-thin'd them all.
Fir'd they ruth on; firft Hector feeks the foes,
And with fuperior vengeance greatly glows.

But o'er the dead the fierce Patroclus ftands, And, rouzing Ajax, rouz'd the liftening bands: Heroes, be men! be what you were before; Or weigh the great occafion, and be more. The chief who taught our lofty walls to yield, Lies pale in death, extended on the field. To guard his body, Troy in numbers flies; 'Tis half the glory to maintain our prize. Hafte, ftrip his arms, the flaughter round him And fend the living Lycians to the dead. [(pread,

The heroes kindle at his fierce command; The martial fquadrons clofe on either hand: Here Troy and Lycia charge with loud alarms, Theffalia there, and Greece, oppose their arms. With horrid shouts they circle round the flain; The clash of armour rings o'er all the plain. Great Jove, to fwell the horrors of the fight, O'er the fierce armies pours pernicious night; And round his fon confounds the warring hots, His fate enobling with a crowd of ghosts.

Now Greece gives way, and great Epigeus falls; Agacleus' fon, from Budium's lofty walls: Who, chas'd for murder thence, a fuppliant came To Peleus and the filver-footed dame; Now fent to Troy, Achilles' arms to aid, He pays due vengeance to his kinfman's fhade. Soon as his lucklefs hand had touch'd the dead, A rock's large fragment thunder'd on his head; Hurl'd by Hectorian force, it cleft in twain His thatter'd helm, and itretch'd him o'er the flain.

Fierce to the van of fight Patroclus came; And, like an eagle darting at his game Sprung on the Trojan and the Lycian band; What grief thy heart, what fury urg'd thy hand, Oh generous Greek! when with full At Sthenelaüs flew the weighty stone, Which funk him to the dead: when Troy, t20

near

vigor

thrown

That arm, drew back; and Hector learn'd to fear.
Far as an able hand a lance can throw,
Or at the lifts, or at the fighting foe;
So far the Trojans from their lines retir'd;
Till Glaucus, turning, all the reft infpir'd.
Then Bathycleus fell beneath his rage,
The only hope of Chalcon's trembling age:
Wide o'er the land was ftretch'd his large domain
With ftately feats, and riches, bleft in vain:

Then funk Pylartes to eternal right;
The reft, difperfing, truft their fates to flight.
Now Troy had stoop'd beneath his matchlefs
power,

[cloud,

But flaming Phoebus kept the facred tower.
Thrice at the battlements Patroclus ftrook,
His blazing ægis thrice Apollo fhook :
He try'd the fourth; when bursting from the
A more than mortal voice was heard aloud:
Patroclus ceafe; this heaven-defended wall
Defies thy lance; not fated yet to fall;'
Thy friend, thy greater far, it fhall withstand:
Troy fhall not ftoop ev'n to Achilles' hand.

So fpoke the God who darts celestial fires;
The Greek obeys him, and with awe retires:
While Hector, checking at the Scean gates
His panting courfers, in his breaft debates,
Or in the field his forces to employ,

Or draw the troops within the walls of Troy.
Thus while he thought, befide him Phoebus ftood,
In Afius' fhape, who reign'd by Sangar's flood;
(Thy brother, Hecuba! from Dymas fprung,
A valiant warrior, haughty, bold, and young.)
Thus he accofts him: What a fhameful fight!
Gods is it Hector that forbears the fight?
Were thine my vigour, this fuccefsful fpear
Should foon convince thee of fo falfe a fear.
Turn then, ah turn thee to the field of fame,
And in Patroclus' blood efface thy fhame.
Perhaps Apollo fhall thy arms fucceed,
And Heaven ordains him by thy lance to bleed.
So fpoke th' infpiring God; then took his flight,
And plung'd amidst the tumult of the fight.
He bids Cebrion drive the rapid car;
The lafh refounds, the courfers rush to war:
The God the Grecians' finking fouls depreft,
And pour'd fwift fpirits through each Trojan
Patroclus lights, impatient for the fight; [breast.
A fpear his left, a ftone employs his right:
With all his nerves he drives it at the foe;
Pointed above, and rough and grofs below:
The falling ruin crush'd Cebrion's head,
The lawle's offspring of king Priam's bed;
His front, brows, eyes, one undiftinguish'd wound:
The bursting balls drop fightless to the ground.
The charioteer, while yet he held the rein,
Struck from the car, falls headlong on the plain.
To the dark fhades the foul unwilling glides;
While the proud victor thus his fall derides:
Good heavens! what active feats yon artist
fhows!

What fkilful divers are our Phrygian foes!
Mark with what eafe they fink into the fand!
Pity that all their practice is by land!

Then, rufhing forward on his proftrate prize,
To spoil the carcafe fierce Patroclus flies:
Swift as a lion, terrible and bold,

That fweeps the fields, depopulates the fold; Pierc'd through the dauntless heart, then tumbles flain;

And from his fatal courage finds his bane.
At once bold Hector leaping from his car,
Defends the body, and provokes the war.
Thus for fome flaughter'd hind, with equal rage,
Two lordly rulers of the wood engage;
Stung with fierce hunger, each the prey invades,
And echoing roars rebellow through the fhades.

Stern Hector faftens on the warrior's head,
And by the foot Patroclus drags the dead.
While all around, confufion, rage, and fright,
Mix the contending hosts in mortal fight.
So, pent by hills, the wild winds roar aloud
In the deep bofom of fome gloomy wood;
Leaves, arms, and trees, aloft in air are blown,
The broad oaks crackle, and the Sylvans groan;
This way and that the rattling thicket bends,
And the whole forest in one crash descends.
Not with lefs noife, with lefs tumultuous rage,
In dreadful shock the mingled hofts engage. [ring:
Darts shower'd on darts, now round the carcate
Now flights of arrows bounding from the ftring:
Stones follow ftones; fome clatter on the fields,
Some, hard and heavy, shake the founding fields
But where the rifing whirlwind clouds they
plains,

Sunk in foft duft the mighty chief remains, And, ftretch'd in death, forgets the guiding reins!

Now, flaming from the zenith, Sol had driven His fervid orb through half the vault of heaven; While on each hoft with equal tempeft fell The showering darts, and numbers funk to hell. But when his evening wheels o'erhung the mair, Glad conqueft refted on the Grecian train. Then, from amidit the tumult and alarms, They draw the conquer'd corfe, and radiant arms. Then rafh Patroclus with new fury glows, And, breathing flaughter, pours amid the foes. Thrice on the prefs, like Mars himfelf, he flew, And thrice three heroes at each onfet flew. There ends thy glory there the Fates untwine The last, black remnant of fo bright a line; Apollo dreadful ftops the middle way; Death calls,. and Heaven allows no longer day!

For lo! the God, in dusky clouds enfhrin'd, Approaching dealt a staggering blow behind. The weighty fhock his neck and fhoulders feel; His eyes flafh fparkles, his stunn'd fenfes reel In giddy darknefs: far to diftance flung, His bounding helmet on the champain rung. Achilles' plume is ftain'd with duft and gore, That plume, which never stoop'd to earth before; Long us'd, untouch'd, in fighting fields to shine, And fhade the temples of the man divine, Jove dooms it now on Hector's helm to nod; Not long-for Fate pursues him, and the God.

His fpear in fhivers falls: his ample shield Drops from his arm: his baldrick ftrows the field. The corfelet his aftonish'd breast forfakes: Loofe is each joint: each nerve with horror Stupid he ftares, and all-affiftlefs ftands: [fhakes Such is the force of more than mortal hands!

A Dardan youth there was, well known to

fame,

From Panthus fprung, Euphorbus was his name;
Fam'd for the manage of the foaming horse,
Skill'd in the dart, and matchlefs in the courfe
Full twenty knights he tumbled from the car,
While yet he learn'd his rudiments of war.
His venturous fpear first drew the hero's gore;
He ftruck, he wounded, but he durft no more;
Nor, though difarm'd, Patroclus' fury stood; ̧
But fwift withdrew the long-protended wood,
And turn'd him fhort, and herded in the crowd