Then met in arms the Solymaan crew, (Fierceft of men) and thofe the warriour flew. Next the bold Amazon's whole force defy'd; And conquer'd ftill, for Heaven was on his fide. 230
Nor ended here his toils; his Lycian foes At his return, a treacherous ambuth rofe, With levell'd fpears along the winding thore; There fell they breathlefs, and return'd no more. At length the monarch with repentant grief
Confefs'd the Gods, and God-defcended chief;
His daughter gave, the ft anger to detain,
With half the honours of his ample reign:
The Lycians grant a chofen space of ground,
With woods, with vineyards, and with harvests
crown'd,
There long the chief his happy lot poffefs'd.
With two brave fons and one fair daughter blefs'd;
(Fair even in heavenly eyes; her fruitful love
Crown'd with Sarpedon's birth th' embrace of
Jove)
But when at laft, diftracted in his mind,
Forfook by heaven, forfaking human kind,
Wide o'er th' Aleian field he chofe to ftray,
A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way!
Woes neap'd on woes confum'd his wafted heart;
His beauteous daughter fell by Phoebe's dart; 250
His eideft-born by raging Mars was flain,
In combat on the Solymaan plain.
Hippolochus furviv'd, from him I came,
The honour'd author of my birth and name;
By his decree I fought the Trojan town,
By his inftructions learn to win renown,
To ftand the first in worth as in command,
To add new honour to any native land,
Before my eyes my mighty fires to place,
And emulate the glories of our race.
Oeneus the ftrong, Bellerophon the bold :
Our ancient feat his honour'd prefence grac'd;
Where twenty days in genial rites he pais'd. 270
The parting heroes mutual prefents left;
A golden goblet was thy grandfire's gift;
Oeneus a belt of matchlefs work beftow'd,
That rich with Tyrian dye refulgent glow'd.
This from his pledge Í learn'd, which fafely
ftor'd
275
Among my treafures, ftill adorns my board :
(For Iydeus left me young, when Thebe's wall
Beheld the fons of Greece untimely fall.;
Mindful of this, in friendship let us join;
If Heaven our steps to foreign land incline, 280
My guest in Argos thou, and I in Lycia thine.
Enough of Trojans to this lance shall yield,
In the full harvest of yon ample field,
Enough of Greeks fhall dye thy fpear with gore;
But thou and Diomed be foes no more.
Of equal beauty, and of polish'd stone.
Hither great Hector pafs'd, nor pafs'd unfeen
Of royal Hecuba, his mother queen
(With her Laodicè, whose beauteous face
Surpafs'd the nymphs of Troy's illuftrious race :)
315 Long in a strict embrace the held her fon, And prefs'd his hand, and tender thus begun : O Hector! fay, what great occafion calls My fon from fight, when Greece furrounds our walls?
Com'st thou to fupplicate th' Almighty Power, 320
With lifted hands from Ilion's lofty tower?
Stay, till I bring the cup with Bacchus crown'd,
In Jove's high name, to fprinkle on the ground,
And pay due vows to all the Gods around.
Then with a plenteous draught refresh thy foul,
325
And draw new fpirits from the generous bowl;
Spent as thou art with long laborious fight,
The brave defender of thy country's right.
Far hence be Bacchus' gifts (the chief re-
join'd :)
Inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind,
Unnerves the limbs, and dulls the noble mind.
Let chiefs abftain, and fpare the facred juice
To fprinkle to the Gods, its better ufe.
By me that holy office were profan'd;
Il fits it me, with human gore diftain'd,
To the pure skies thefe horrid hands to raife,
Or offer Heaven's great Sire polluted praife.
You, with your matrons, go! a fpotlefs train,
And burn rich odours in Minerva's fane.
The largest mantle your full wardrobes hold, 340
Moft priz'd for a. t, and labour'd o'er with gold,
Before the Goddefs' honour'd knees be spread,
And twelve young heifers to her al ar led.
So may the Power, aton'd by fervei: prayer,
Our wives, our infants, and our city ipate, 345
And far avert Tydides' wafteful ire,
Who mows whole troops, and makes all Troy re-
tire.
Be this, O mother, your religious care;
I go to rouze foft Paris to the war;
If yet, not loft to all the fenfe of shame,
The recreant warriour hear the voice of fame.
Oh would kind earth the hateful wretch embrace,
That reft of Troy, that ruin of our race!
Deep to the dark abyfs might he defcend,
Troy yet fhould flourish, and my forrows end. 355
This heard, fhe gave command; and fum-
mon'd came
Each noble matron and illuftrious dame. The Phrygian queen to her rich wardrobe went, Where treafur'd odours breath'd a coftly fcent. There lay the vestures of no vulgar art, Sidonian maids en broider'd every part, Whom from foft Sidon youthful Paris bore, With Helen touching on the Tyrian fhore. Here as the queen revolv'd with careful eyes The various textures and the various dyes: She chofe a veil that fhone fuperiour far, And glow'd refulgent as the morning far. Herfelf with this the long proceffion leads; The train majestically flow proceeds. Soon as to lion's topm oft tower they come, And awful reach the high Palladian dome, Antenor's confort, fair Theano, waits As Pallas' prieftefs, and unbars the gates, With hands uplifted and imploring eyes, They fill the dome with fupplicating cries. The prieftefs then the fhining veil difplays, Plac'd on Minerva's knees, and thus the prays: Oh awful Goddefs! ever-dreadful maid, Troy's ftrong defence, unconquer'd Palias, aid! Break thou Tydides fpear, and let him fall Prone on the duft before the Trojan wall, So twelve young heifers, guiltless of the yoke, Shall fill thy temple with a grateful smoke. But thou, aton'd by penitence and prayer, Curfelves, our infants, and our cicy fpare! So pray'd the priestess in her holy fane; So vow'd the matrons, but they vow'd in vain. While thefe appear before the Power with prayers,
Heor to Paris' lofty dome repairs. Himself the manfion rais'd, f om every part 390 Affembling architects of matchlefs art. Near Priam's court and Hector's palace ftands The pompous ftructure, and the town commands. A fpear the hero bore of wondrous „trength, Of full ten cubits was the lance's length, The freely point with golden ringlets join'd, Before him br: ndish'd, at each n etion fhin'd. Thus entering, in the glittering rooms he found His brother-chief, whofe ufelcfs arms lay round, His eyes delighting with the fplendid fhow, 400 Brightening the hield, and polishing he bow. Pefide him Helen with her virgins ftands, Quides their rich labours, and inftructs their hands.
Him thus unactive, with an ardent look The prince beheld, and high resenting spoke. 405 Thy hate to Trov, is this the time to fhow? (Oh wretch ill-fated, and thy country's foe!) Paris and Greece against us, both confpire; Thy clofe refentment, and their vengeful ire. For thee great Ilion's guardian heroes fall, Till heaps of dead alone defend her wall; For thee the foldier bleeds, the matron mourns, And wasteful war in all its fury burns. Ungrateful man! deferves not this thy care, Our troops to hearten, and our toils to fhare? 415 Rife, or behold the conquering flames afcend, And all the Phrygian glories at an end.
Brother, 'tis juft (reply'd the generous youth) Thy free remonftrance proves thy worth and truth:
Yet charge my abfence lefs, oh generous chief!
420 On hate to Troy, than confcious fhame and grief: Here, hid from human eves, thy brother fate, And mourn'd in fecret, his and Ilion's fate. "Tis now enough: now glory fpreads her charms, And beauteous Helen calls her chief to arms. 425, Conqueft to-day my happier fword may blefs, 'Tis man's to fight, but Heaven's to give fuccefs. But while I arm, contain thy ardent mind; Or go, and Paris fhall not lag behind.
He faid, nor answer'd Priam's warlike fon; 430 When Helen thus with lowly grace begun : Oh generous brother! if the guilty dame, That caus'd thefe woes, deferves a fifter's name! Would Heaven, ere all thefe dreadful deeds were
The day that fhow'd me to the golden fun, 435 Had feen my death! Why did not whirlwinds
The fatal infant to the fowls of air?
Why funk I not beneath the whelming tide,
And 'midst the roarings of the waters died?
Heaven fill'd up all my ills, and I accurft
Bore all, and Paris of thofe ills the worst.
Helen at least a braver spouse might claim,
Warm'd with fome virtue, fome regard of fame?
Now, tir'd with toils, thy fainting limbs recline,
With toils, fuftain'd for Paris' fake and mine: 445
The Gods have link'd our miferable doom,
Our prefent woe and infamy to come :
Wide thall it fpread, and last through ages long.
Example fad! and theme of future fong. 4-
The chief reply'd: this time for bids to reft:
The Trojan bands, by hoftile fury preft,
Demand their Hector, and his arm require;
The combat urges, and my foul's on fire.
Urge thou the knight to march where glory calls,
And timely join me, ere 1 leave the walls.
Ere yet I mingle in the direful fray,
My wife, my infant, claim a moment's stay;
This day (perhaps the laft that fees me here)
Demands a parting word, a tender tear:
This day, fome God who hates our Trojan land 460
May vanquish Hector by a Grecian hand.
He faid, and pais'd with fad prefaging heart
To teck his fpoufe, his foul's far dearer part ;
At home he fought her, but he fought in vain:
She, with one maid of all her menial train, 455
Had thence retir'd; and with her fecond joy,
The young Aftyanax, the hope of Troy,
Penfive the flood on Ilion's towery height,
Beheld the war, and ficken'd at the fight;
There her fad eyes in vain her lord explore, 470
Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore.
But he who found not whom his foul defir'd,
Whofe virtue charm'd him as her beauty fir'd,
Stood in the gates, and afk'd what way the bent
Her parting step? If to the fane the went, 475
Where late the mourning matrons made refort,
Or fought her fifters in the Trojan court?
Not to the court, (reply'd th' attendant train)
Nor mix'd with matrons to Minerva's fane:
To Ilion's steepy tower the bent her way,
To mark the fortunes of the doubtful day.
Troy fled, the heard, before the Grecian fword;
She heard, and trembled for her abfent lord :
Distracted with furprize, the feem'd to fly,
Fear on her cheek, and forrow in her eye.
The nurse attended with her infant boy,
The young Aftyanax, the hope of Trov.
Hector, this heard, return'd without delay; Swift through the town he trod his former way, Through streets of palaces, and walks of state;
And met the mourner at the Scaan gate.
With hafte to meet him fprung the joyful fair,
His blameless wife, Action's wealthy heir;
(Cilician Thebè great Aëtion fway'd,
And Hippoplacus' wide-extended fhade)
The nurse stood near, in whofe embraces preít
His only hope hung fmiling at her breast,
Whom each foft charm and early grace adorn,
Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn.
To this lov'd infant Hector gave the name
Scamandrius, from Scamander's honour'd stream;
Aftyanax the Trojans call'd the boy,
From his great father, the defence of Troy.
Silent the warriour smil'd, and, pleas'd, refign'd
To tender paffions all his mighty mind: 595
His beauteous princefs caft a mournful look,
Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke ;
Her bofom labour'd with a boding figh,
And the big tear stood trembling in her eye.
Too daring prince! ah, whither doft thou run?
Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and fon!
And think'it thou not how wretched we shall be,
A widow I, an helplefs orphan he !
For fure fuch courage length of life denies ;
And thou muft fall, thy virtue's facrifice.
Greece in her fingle heroes ftrove in vain ;
Now hosts oppofe thee, and thou must be flain!
Oh grant me, Gods! ere Hector meets his doom,
All I can afk of Heaven, an early tomb!
So fhall my days in one fad tenour run,
And end with forrows as they first begun.
No parent now remains my griefs to share,
No father's aid, no mother's tender care.
The fierce Achilles wrapt our walls in fire!
Laid Thebe wafte, and flew my warlike fire! 525
His fate compaffion in the victor bred;
Stern as he was, he yet rever'd the dead;
His radiant arms preferv'd from hoftile spoil,
And laid him decent on the funeral pile;
Then rais'd a mountain where his bones were
burn'd:
The mountain nymphs the rural tomb adorn'd,
Jove's fylvan daughters bade their clms bestow
A barren thade, and in his honour grow.
By the fame arm my feven brave brothers fell; In one fad day beheld the gates of hell; 535 While the fat herds and fnowy flocks they fed; Amid their fields the hapless heroes bled! My mother liv'd to bear the victor's bands, The queen of Hippoplacia's fylvan lands: Redeem'd too late, the fcarce beheld again 540 Her pleafing empire and her native plain, When, ah' oppreft by life-confuming woe, She fell a victim to Diana's bow.
Yet, while my Hector ftill furvives, I fee My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee: 54$ Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all Once more will perish, if my Hector fall. Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger fhare: Oh prove a husband's and a father's care! That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, 550 Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall of Troy: Thou from this tower defend th' important poit; There Agamemnon points his dreadful hoft, That pafs Tydides, Ajax, ftrive to gain, And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train. 555 Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given, Or led by hopes, or dictated from Heaven. Let others in the field their aims employ, But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy. The chief reply'd: That poft be all my care, Not that alone, but all the works of war. How would the fons of Troy, in arms renown'd, And Troy's proud dames, whofe garments fweep the ground,
Attaint the luftre of my former name,
Should Hector bafely quit the field of fame? 565
My early youth was bred to martial pains,
My foul impels me to th' embattled plains:
Let me be foremost to defend the throne,
And guard my father's glories, and my own.
Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates: $70 (ow my heart trembles while my tongue relates!)
The day when thou, imperial Troy! muft bend,`
And fee thy warriours fall, thy glories end.
And yet no dire prefage fo wounds my mind,
My mother's death, the ruin of my kind,
ot Priam's hoary haits defil'd with gore,
Not all my brothers gafping on the thore;
As thine, Andromache! thy griefs I dread ;
I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led!
In Argive looms our battles to defign,
And woes, of which fo large a part was thine!
To bear the victor's hard commands, or bring
The weight of waters from Hyperia's fpring.
There, while you groan beneath the load of life,
They cry, Behold the mighty Hector's wife!
525 Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to let, Embitters all thy woes, by naming me.
He fpoke, and fondly gazing on her charms,
Reftor'd the pleafing burthen to her arms;
Soft on her fragrant breaft the babe she laid,
Hufh'd to repofe, and with a fmile furvey'd.
The troubled pleasure foon chaftis'd by fear,
She mingled with a smile a tender tear.
The foften'd chief with kind compassion view'd,
And dry'd the falling drops, and thus purfued:
Andromache! my foul's far better part,
Why with untimely forrows heaves thy heart?
No hoftile hand can antedate my doom,
Till fate condemns me to the filent tomb.
Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth;
And fuch the hard condition of our birth,
No force can then refift, no flight can fave;
All fink alike, the fearful and the brave.
No more-but haften to thy tasks at home,
There guide the fpindle, and direct the loom;
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Sought her own palace, and indulg'd her woe.
There, while her tears deplor'd the god-like man,
Through all her train the foft infection ran, 645
The pious maids their mingled forrows shed,
And mourn the living Hector, as the dead.
But now, no longer deaf to honour's call,
Forth iffues Paris from the palace wall.
In brazen ams that caft a gleamy ray, 650
Swift through the town the warriour bends his
way.
The wanton courfer thus, with reins unbound,
Breaks from his ftall, and beats the trembling
ground;
Pamper'd and proud, he feeks the wonted tides,
And laves, in height of blood, his fhining fides;
655
His head now freed, he toffes to the skies;
His mane difhevell'd o'er his fhoulders flies;
He fnuffs the females in the distant plain,
And fprings, exulting, to his fields again.
With equal triumph, fprightly, bold, and gay,
In arms refulgent as the God of day,
The fon of Priam, glorying in his might,
Rufh'd forth with Hector to the fields of fight.
And now, the warriours paffing on the way,
The graceful Paris first excus'd his stay.
To whom the noble Hector thus reply'd:
O chief! in blood, and now in arms, ally'd!
Thy power in war with juftice none conteft;
Known is thy courage, and thy ftrength confeft.
What pity floth fhould feize a foul fo brave, 670
Or god-like Paris live a woman's flave!
My heart weeps blood at what the Trojans fay,
And hopes, thy deeds fhall wipe the ftain away.
Hafte then, in all their glorious labours fhare;
For much they fuffer, for thy fake, in war. 675
630 Thefe ills fhall ceafe, whene'r by Jove's decree
We crown the bowl to Heaven and Liberty:
While the proud foe his fruftrate triumphs mourns,
And Greece indignant through her feas returns.
The fingle combat of Hector and Ajax.
THE battle renewing with double ardour upon the return of Hector, Minerva is under apprehenfions for the Greeks. Apollo, feeing her defcend from Olympus, joins her near the Scaan gate, they agree to put off the general engagement for that day, and incite Hector to challenge the Greeks to a fingle combat. Nine of the princes accepting the challenge, the lot is caft, and falls upon Ajax. Thefe heroes, after Jeveral attacks, are parted by the night. The Trojans calling a council, Antenor proposes the delivery of Helen to the Greeks, to which Paris will not confent, but offers to restore them her riches. Priam fends a herald to make this offer, and to demand a truce for burning the dead; the last of which only is agreed to by Agamemnon. When the funerals are performed, the Greeks, purfuant to the advice of Neftor, erect a fortification to protect their fleet and camp, flanked with towers, and defended by a ditch and palifades. Neptune teftifies his jealoufy at this work, but is pacified by a promise from Jupiter. Both armies pass the night in feafting, but Jupiter disheartens the Trojans with thunder and other figns of his wrath.
The three and twentieth day ends with the duel of Hector and Ajax: the next day the truce is agreed: another is taken up in the funeral rites of the flain; and one more in building the fortification before the ships. So that fomewhat above three days is employed in this book. The fcene lies wholly in the field.
O fpoke the guardian of the Trojan ftate,
Then rush'd impetuous through the Scæan
gate.
Him Paris follow'd to the dire alarms;
Both breathing flaughter, both refolv'd in arms.
As when to failors labouring through the main, 5
That long had heav'd the weary oar in vain,
Jove bids at length th' expected gales arife,
The gales blow grateful, and the veffel flies:
So welcome these to Troy's defiring train;
The bands are chear'd, the war awakes again. 10
Bold Paris firft the work of death begun
On great Menesthens, Areïthous' fon :
Sprung from the fair Philomeda's embrace,
The pleafing Arnè was his native place.
Then funk Eioneus to the fhades below,
Beneath his steely cafque he felt the blow,
Full on his neck, from Hector's weighty hand;
And roll'd, with limbs relax'd, along the land.
By Claucus' fpear the bold Iphinous bleeds,
Fix'd in the fhoulder as he mounts his fteeds; 20
Headlong he tumbles: his flack nerves unbound,
Drop the cold useless members on the ground.
When now Minerva faw her Argives flain,
From vaft Olympus to the gleaming plain.
Fierce the defcends: Apollo mark'd her flight, 25
Nor fhot lefs fwift f om Ilion's towery height;
Radiant they met, beneath the beechen shade;
When thus Apollo to the blue-cy'd Maid:
What caufe, O Daughter of almighty Jove! Thus wings thy progrefs from the realms above? 30
Once more impetuous doft thou bend thy way,
To give to Greece the long-divided day?
Too much has Troy already felt thy hate,
Now breathe thy rage, and hufh the ftern debate:
This day, the bufinefs of the field fufpend;
War foon fhall kindle, and great Ilion bend:
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