the last book (as it does also through the two following, and almost to the end of the seventh book.) The scene is wholly in the field before Troy.

On thy lov'd realms, whose guilt demands their fate,

Presume not thou the lifted bolt to stay;
Remember Troy, and give the vengeance way.
For know, of all the numerous towns that rise
Beneath the rolling Sun and starry skies,
Which gods have rais'd, or earth-born men

enjoy,

Their careful eyes on long-contended Troy.

When Jove, dispos'd to tempt Saturnia's spleen,
Thus wak'd the fury of his partial queen :
"Two powers divine the son of Atreus aid,
Imperial Juno, and the martial maid;
But high in Heaven they sit, and gaze from far,
The tame spectators of his deeds of war.

Not thus fair Venus helps her favour'd knight,
The queen of pleasures shares the toils of fight,
Each danger wards, and, constant in her care,
Saves in the moment of the last despair.
Her act has rescu'd Paris' forfeit life,
Though great Atrides gain'd the glorious strife.
Then say, ye powers! what signal issue waits
To crown this deed, and finish all the fates?
Shall Heaven by peace the bleeding kingdoms

spare,

Or rouse the Furies, and awake the war?
Yet, would the gods for human good provide,
Atrides soon might gain his beauteous bride,
Still Priam's walls in peaceful honours grow,
And through his gates the crowding nations flow."

Thus while he spoke, the queen of Heaven enrag'd

And queen of war in close consult engag'd:
Apart they sit, their deep designs employ,
And meditate the future woes of Troy.
Though secret anger swell'd Minerva's breast,
The prudent goddess yet her wrath supprest;
But Juno, impotent of passion, broke
Her sullen silence, and with fury spoke:

"Shall then, O tyrant of th' ethereal reign!
My schemes, my labours, and my hopes, be vain?
Have I, for this, shook Ilion with alarms,
Assembled nations, set two worlds in arms ?
To spread the war, I flew from shore to shore;
Th'immortal coursers scarce the labour bore.
At length ripe vengeance o'er their heads impends,
But Jove himself the faithless race defends :
Loth as thou art to punish lawless lust,
Not all the gods are partial and unjust."

The sire whose thunder shakes the cloudy skies Sighs from his inmost soul, and thus replies: "Oh lasting rancour! oh insatiate hate To Phrygia's monarch, and the Phrygian state! What high offence has fir'd the wife of Jove, Can wretched mortals harm the powers above?

That Troy and Troy's whole race thou would'st confound.

And yon fair structures level with the ground?
Haste, leave the skies, fulfil thy stern desire,
Burst all her gates, and wrap her walls in fire!
Let Priam bleed! If yet thou thirst for more,
Bleed all his sons, and Ilion float with gore,
To boundless vengeance the wide realm be given,
Till vast destruction glut the queen of Heaven!
So let it be, and Jove his peace enjoy,

When Heaven no longer hears the name of Troy:

None stands so dear to Jove as sacred Troy. No mortals merit more distinguish'd grace

Still to our name their hetacombs expire, And altars blaze with unextinguish'd fire."

At this the goddess roll'd her radiant eyes, Then on the thunderer fix'd them, and replies : "Three towns are Juno's on the Grecian plains, More dear than all th' extended Earth contains, Mycenæ, Argos, and the Spartan wall; These thou may'st raze, nor I forbid their fall : 'Tis not in me the vengeance to remove; The crime's sufficient, that they share my love. Of power superior why should I complain ? Resent I may, but must resent in vain. Yet some distinction Juno might require, Sprung with thyself from one celestial sire, A goddess born to share the realms above, And styl'd the consort of the thundering Jove; Nor thou a wife and sister's right deny; Let both consent, and both by turns comply; So shall the gods our joint decrees obey, And Heaven shall act as we direct the way. See ready Pallas waits thy high commands, To raise in arms the Greek and Phrygian bands; Their sudden friendship by her arts may cease, And the proud Trojans first infringe the peace."

The sire of men and monarch of the sky, Th' advice approv'd, and bade Minerva fly, Dissolve the league, and all her arts employ To make the breach the faithless act of Troy.

Fir'd with the charge, she headlong urg'd her

flight,

And shot like lightning from Olympus' height.
As the red comet, from Saturnius sent
To fright the nations with a dire portent
(A fatal sign to armies on the plain,
Or trembling sailors on the wintery main)
With sweeping glories glides along in air,
And shakes the sparkles from its blazing hair:
Between both armies thus, in open sight,
Shot the bright goddess in a trail of light.
With eyes erect the gazing hosts admire
The power descending, and the Heavens on fire!
"The gods" (they cried) "the gods this signal sent,
And fate now labours with some vast event:
Jove seals the league, or bloodier scenes prepares;
Jove, the great arbiter of peace and wars!"

They said, while Pallas through the Trojan
(In shape a mortal) pass'd disguis'd along. [throng
Like bold Laödocus, her course she bent,
Who from Antenor trac'd his high descent.
Amidst the ranks Lycaon's son she found,
The warlike Pandarus, for strength renown'd;
Whose squadrons, led from black Æsopus' flood,
With flaming shields in martial circle stood.

To him the goddess: "Phrygian! can'st thou A well-tim'd counsel with a willing ear? [hear What praise were thine, could'st thou direct thy dart, Amidst his triumph, to the Spartan's heart!

Thy country's foe, the Grecian glory slain!

Then seize th' occasion, dare the mighty deed,
Aia at his breast, and may that aim succeed!
Bat first, to speed the shaft, address thy vow
To Lycian Phœbus with the silver bow,
And swear the firstlings of thy flock to pay
On Zelia's altars, to the god of day."

He heard, and madly, at the motion pleas'd, Hs polish'd bow with hasty rashness seiz'd. 'Twas form'd of horn, and smooth'd with artful A mountain goat resign'd the shining spoil, [toil, Wao piere'd long since beneath his arrows bled: The stately quarry on the cliffs lay dead,

And sixteen palms his brow's large honours spread:
The workinan join'd, and shap'd the bended horns,
Ard beaten gold each taper point adorns.

Tuis, by the Greeks unseen, the warrior bends,
Screen'd by the shields of his surrounding friends.
There meditates the mark; and, couching low,
Fits the sharp arrow to the well-strung bow.
Une from a hundred feather'd deaths he chose,
Fated to wound, and cause of future woes,
Tian 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 breast he strains 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 [string.
The gods forget not, nor thy guardian power.
Pallas assists, and (weaken'd in its force)
Diverts the weapon from its destin'd course:
So from her babe, when slumber seals his eye,
The watchful mother wafts th' envenom'd fly.
Just where his belt with golden buckles join'd,
Where linen folds the double corslet lin'd,
She turn'd the shaft, which, hissing from above,
Pass'd the broad belt, and through the corslet

drove:

The folds it piere'd, the plaited 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 lustre various colours vie,
The shining whiteness, and the Tyrian dye:
So great Atrides! show'd thy sacred blood,
As down thy snowy thigh distill'd the streamingflood.
With horrour seiz'd, the king of men descried
The shaft infix'd, and saw the gushing tide:
Nor less the Spartan fear'd before he found
The shining barb appear'd above the wound.
Then, with a sigh, that heav'd his manly breast,
The royal brother thus his grief exprest,

And grasp'd his hands; while all the Grecks around
With answering sighs return'd the plaintive sound:

Oh, dear as life! did I for this agree

The solemn truce, a fatal truce to thee!
Wert thou expos'd to all the hostile train,
To fight for Greece, and conquer to be slain?
The race of Trojans in thy ruin join,

And faith

is scorn'd by all the perjur'd line.

Not thus our vows, confirm'd with wine and gore, Those hands we plighted, and those oaths we swore, Shrul all be vain: when Heaven's revenge is slow, Jove but prepares to strike the fiercer blow.

VOL XIX.

Which Troy's proud glories in the dust shall lay.
When Priam's powers and Priam's self shall fall,
And one prodigious ruin swallow all.
I see the god, already, from the pole
Bare his red arm, and bid the thunder roll;
I see th' eternal all his fury shed,
And shake his ægis o'er their guilty head,
Such mighty woes on perjur'd princes wait;
But thou, alas! deserv'st a happier fate.
Still must I mourn the period of thy days,
And only mourn, without my share of praise ?
Depriv'd of thee, the heartless Greeks no more
Shall dream of conquests on the hostile shore;
Troy seiz'd of Helen, and our glory lost,
Thy bones shall moulder on a foreign coast:
While some proud Trojan thus insulting cries,
(And spurns the dust where Menelaüs lies)
"Such are the trophies Greece from Ilion brings,
And such the conquests of her king of kings!
Lo his proud vessels scatter'd o'er the main,
And unreveng'd his mighty brother slain."
Oh! ere that dire disgrace shall blast my fame,
O'erwhelm me, Earth! and hide a monarch's

shame."

He said: a leader's and a brother's fears Possess his soul, 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." [friend,

To whom the king: "my brother and my Thus, always thus, may Heaven thy life defend! Now seek some skilful hand, whose powerful art May stanch th' effusion, and extract the dart. Herald, be swift, and bid Machäon bring His speedy succour to the Spartan king Piere'd with a winged shaft, (the deed of Troy) The Grecian's sorrow, and the Dardan's joy."

With hasty zeal the swift Talthybius flies; [eyes, Through the thick files he darts his searching And finds Machaön, where sublime 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 some Lycian or Dardanian bow, A grief to us, a triumph to the foe."

The heavy tidings griev'd the god-like man : Swift to his succour through the ranks he ran; The dauntless king yet standing firni he found, And all the chiefs in deep concern around, Where to the steely point the reed was joiu'd, The shaft he drew, but left the head behind. Straight the broad belt with gay embroidery grac'd, He loos'd; the corslet from his breast unbrae'd; Then suck'd the blood, and sovereign balm infus'd, Which Chiron gave, and Esculapius used.

While round the prince the Greeks employ
their care,

The Trojans rush tumultuous to the war;
Once more they glitter in refulgent arms,
Once more the fields are filled with dire alarms.
Nor had you seen the king of men appear
Confus'd, unactive, or surpris'd with fear;
But fond of glory with severe delight,

His beating bosom claim'd the rising fight,
No longer with his warlike steeds he stay'd,
Or press'd the car with polish'd brass inlaid:
But left Eurymedon the reins to guide;

The fiery coursers snorted at his side.

D

crown'd,

(Fell'd by some artist with his shining steel,
To shape the circle of the bending wheel)
Cut down it lies, tall, smooth, and largely spread,
With all its beauteous honours on its head;
There, left a subject to the wind and rain,
And scorch'd by suns, it withers on the plain.
Thus pierc'd by Ajax, Simïosius lies
Stretch'd on the shore, and thus neglected dies.

At Ajax Antiphus his javelin threw;
The pointed lance with erring fury flew,
And Leucus, lov'd by wise Ulysses, slew.
He drops the corpse of Simoïsius slain,
And sinks a breathless carcase on the plain.
This saw Ulysses, and with grief enrag'd
Strode where the foremost of the foes engag'd;
Arm'd with his spear, he meditates the wound,
In act to throw; but, cautious, look'd around.
Struck at his sight, the Trojans backward drew,
And trembling heard the javelin as it flew.
A chief stood nigh, who from Abydos came,
Old Priam's son, Democoon was his name;
The weapon enter'd close above his ear,
Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear;
With piercing shrieks the youth resigns his breath,
His eye-balls darken with the shades of death;
Ponderous he falls; his clanging arms resound;
And his broad buckler rings against the ground.

Seiz'd with affright the boldest foes appear; Ev'n god-like Hector seems himself to fear; Slow he gave way, the rest tumultuous fled; The Greeks with shouts press on, and spoil the

dead:

But Phœbus now from Ilion's towering height
Shines forth reveal'd, and animates the fight.
"Trojans, be bold, and force with force oppose;
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 ye forgot what seem'd your dread before?
The great, the fierce Achilles fights no more,"

Apollo thus from Ilion's lofty towers
Array'd in terrours, rous'd the Trojan powers:
While war's fierce goddess fires the Grecian foe,
And shouts and thunders in the fields below.
Then great Diores fell, by doom divine,
In vain his valour, and illustrious line.
A broken rock the force of Pirus threw
(Who from cold Ænus led the Thracian crew;)
Full on his ankle dropt the ponderous stone,

Burst the strong nerves, and crash'd the solid bone.

Supine he tumbles on the crimson sands,
Before his helpless friends and native bands

And spreads for aid his unavailing hands..
The foe rush'd furious as he pants for breath,
And through his navel drove the pointed death:
His gushing entrails smok'd upon the ground,
And the warm life came issuing from the wound.

His lance bold Thoas at the conqueror sent,

Deep in his breast above the pap it went.
Amid the lungs was fix'd the winged wood,
And quivering in his heaving bosom stood:
Till from the dying chief, approaching near,
Th' Ætolian warrior tugg'd his weighty spear:
Then sudden wav'd his flaming falchion round,
And gash'd his belly with a ghastly wound.
The corpse now breathless on the bloody plain,
To spoil his arms the victor strove in vain;
The Thracian bands against the victor prest;
A grove of lances glitter'd at his breast.
Stern Thoas, glaring with revengeful eyes,
In sullen fury slowly quits the prize.
Thus fell two heroes; one the pride of Thrace,
And one the leader of the Epian race:
Death's sable shade at once o'ercast their eyes,
In dust the vanquish'd, and the victor lies.
With copious slaughter all the fields are red,
And heap'd with growing mountains of the dead.

Had some brave chief this martial scene beheld,
By Pallas guarded through the dreadful field;
Might darts be bid to turn their points away,
And swords around him innocently play;
The war's whole art with wonder had he seen,
And counted heroes where he counted men.

So fought each host with thirst of glory fir'd, And crowds on crowds triumphantly expir'd.

THE ILIAD.

BOOK V.

ARGUMENT.

THE ACTS OF DIOMED.

DIOMED, assisted by Pallas, performs wonders in this day's battle. Pandarus wounds him with an arrow, but the goddess cures him, enables him to discern gods from mortals, and prohibits him from contending with any of the former, excepting Venus. Æneas joins Pandaius to oppose him: Pandarus is killed, and Æneas in great danger, but for the assistance of Venus; who, as she is removing her son from the fight, is wounded in the hand by Diomed. Apollo seconds her in his rescue, and at length carries off Æneas to Troy, where he is healed in the temple of Pergamus. Mars rallies the Trojans, and assists Hector to make a stand. In the mean time Æneas is restored to the field, and they overthrow several of the Greeks; among the rest Tlepolemus is slain by Sarpedon. Juno and Minerva descend to resist Mars; the latter incites Diomed to go against that god; he wounds him, and sends him groaning to Heaven.