The Iliad Part 55

So parts the chief; from rank to rank he flew, And round on all sides sent his piercing view.

As the bold bird, endued with sharpest eye Of all that wings the mid aerial sky, The sacred eagle, from his walks above Looks down, and sees the distant thicket move; Then stoops, and sousing on the quivering hare, s.n.a.t.c.hes his life amid the clouds of air.

Not with less quickness, his exerted sight Pa.s.s'd this and that way, through the ranks of fight: Till on the left the chief he sought, he found, Cheering his men, and spreading deaths around:

To him the king: "Beloved of Jove! draw near, For sadder tidings never touch'd thy ear; Thy eyes have witness'd what a fatal turn!

How Ilion triumphs, and the Achaians mourn.

This is not all: Patroclus, on the sh.o.r.e Now pale and dead, shall succour Greece no more.

Fly to the fleet, this instant fly, and tell The sad Achilles, how his loved-one fell: He too may haste the naked corse to gain: The arms are Hector's, who despoil'd the slain."

The youthful warrior heard with silent woe, From his fair eyes the tears began to flow: Big with the mighty grief, he strove to say What sorrow dictates, but no word found way.

To brave Laodocus his arms he flung, Who, near him wheeling, drove his steeds along; Then ran the mournful message to impart, With tearful eyes, and with dejected heart.

Swift fled the youth: nor Menelaus stands (Though sore distress'd) to aid the Pylian bands; But bids bold Thrasymede those troops sustain; Himself returns to his Patroclus slain.

"Gone is Antilochus (the hero said); But hope not, warriors, for Achilles' aid: Though fierce his rage, unbounded be his woe, Unarm'd, he fights not with the Trojan foe.

'Tis in our hands alone our hopes remain, 'Tis our own vigour must the dead regain, And save ourselves, while with impetuous hate Troy pours along, and this way rolls our fate."

"'Tis well (said Ajax), be it then thy care, With Merion's aid, the weighty corse to rear; Myself, and my bold brother will sustain The shock of Hector and his charging train: Nor fear we armies, fighting side by side; What Troy can dare, we have already tried, Have tried it, and have stood." The hero said.

High from the ground the warriors heave the dead.

A general clamour rises at the sight: Loud shout the Trojans, and renew the fight.

Not fiercer rush along the gloomy wood, With rage insatiate, and with thirst of blood, Voracious hounds, that many a length before Their furious hunters, drive the wounded boar; But if the savage turns his glaring eye, They howl aloof, and round the forest fly.

Thus on retreating Greece the Trojans pour, Wave their thick falchions, and their javelins shower: But Ajax turning, to their fears they yield, All pale they tremble and forsake the field.

While thus aloft the hero's corse they bear, Behind them rages all the storm of war: Confusion, tumult, horror, o'er the throng Of men, steeds, chariots, urged the rout along: Less fierce the winds with rising flames conspire To whelm some city under waves of fire; Now sink in gloomy clouds the proud abodes, Now crack the blazing temples of the G.o.ds; The rumbling torrent through the ruin rolls, And sheets of smoke mount heavy to the poles.

The heroes sweat beneath their honour'd load: As when two mules, along the rugged road, From the steep mountain with exerted strength Drag some vast beam, or mast's unwieldy length; Inly they groan, big drops of sweat distil, The enormous timber lumbering down the hill: So these--Behind, the bulk of Ajax stands, And breaks the torrent of the rus.h.i.+ng bands.

Thus when a river swell'd with sudden rains Spreads his broad waters o'er the level plains, Some interposing hill the stream divides.

And breaks its force, and turns the winding tides.

Still close they follow, close the rear engage; Aeneas storms, and Hector foams with rage: While Greece a heavy, thick retreat maintains, Wedged in one body, like a flight of cranes, That shriek incessant, while the falcon, hung High on poised pinions, threats their callow young.

So from the Trojan chiefs the Grecians fly, Such the wild terror, and the mingled cry: Within, without the trench, and all the way, Strow'd in bright heaps, their arms and armour lay; Such horror Jove impress'd! yet still proceeds The work of death, and still the battle bleeds.

[Ill.u.s.tration: VULCAN FROM AN ANTIQUE GEM.]

VULCAN FROM AN ANTIQUE GEM.

BOOK XVIII.

ARGUMENT.

THE GRIEF OF ACHILLES, AND NEW ARMOUR MADE HIM BY VULCAN.

The news of the death of Patroclus is brought to Achilles by Antilochus.

Thetis, hearing his lamentations, comes with all her sea- nymphs to comfort him. The speeches of the mother and son on this occasion. Iris appears to Achilles by the command of Juno, and orders him to show himself at the head of the intrenchments. The sight of him turns the fortunes of the day, and the body of Patroclus is carried off by the Greeks. The Trojans call a council, where Hector and Polydamas disagree in their opinions: but the advice of the former prevails, to remain encamped in the field. The grief of Achilles over the body of Patroclus.

Thetis goes to the palace of Vulcan to obtain new arms for her son. The description of the wonderful works of Vulcan: and, lastly, that n.o.ble one of the s.h.i.+eld of Achilles.

The latter part of the nine-and-twentieth day, and the night ensuing, take up this book: the scene is at Achilles' tent on the sea-sh.o.r.e, from whence it changes to the palace of Vulcan.

Thus like the rage of fire the combat burns,(250) And now it rises, now it sinks by turns.

Meanwhile, where h.e.l.lespont's broad waters flow, Stood Nestor's son, the messenger of woe: There sat Achilles, shaded by his sails, On hoisted yards extended to the gales; Pensive he sat; for all that fate design'd Rose in sad prospect to his boding mind.

Thus to his soul he said: "Ah! what constrains The Greeks, late victors, now to quit the plains?

Is this the day, which heaven so long ago Ordain'd, to sink me with the weight of woe?

(So Thetis warn'd;) when by a Trojan hand The bravest of the Myrmidonian band Should lose the light! Fulfilled is that decree; Fallen is the warrior, and Patroclus he!

In vain I charged him soon to quit the plain, And warn'd to shun Hectorean force in vain!"

Thus while he thinks, Antilochus appears, And tells the melancholy tale with tears.

"Sad tidings, son of Peleus! thou must hear; And wretched I, the unwilling messenger!

Dead is Patroclus! For his corse they fight; His naked corse: his arms are Hector's right."

A sudden horror shot through all the chief, And wrapp'd his senses in the cloud of grief; Cast on the ground, with furious hands he spread The scorching ashes o'er his graceful head; His purple garments, and his golden hairs, Those he deforms with dust, and these he tears; On the hard soil his groaning breast he threw, And roll'd and grovell'd, as to earth he grew.

The virgin captives, with disorder'd charms, (Won by his own, or by Patroclus' arms,) Rush'd from their tents with cries; and gathering round, Beat their white b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and fainted on the ground: While Nestor's son sustains a manlier part, And mourns the warrior with a warrior's heart; Hangs on his arms, amidst his frantic woe, And oft prevents the meditated blow.

Far in the deep abysses of the main,(251) With h.o.a.ry Nereus, and the watery train, The mother-G.o.ddess from her crystal throne Heard his loud cries, and answer'd groan for groan.

The circling Nereids with their mistress weep, And all the sea-green sisters of the deep.

Thalia, Glauce (every watery name), Nesaea mild, and silver Spio came: Cymothoe and Cymodoce were nigh, And the blue languish of soft Alia's eye.

Their locks Actaea and Limnoria rear, Then Proto, Doris, Panope appear, Thoa, Pherusa, Doto, Melita; Agave gentle, and Amphithoe gay: Next Callianira, Calliana.s.sa show Their sister looks; Dexamene the slow, And swift Dynamene, now cut the tides: Iaera now the verdant wave divides: Nemertes with Apseudes lifts the head, Bright Galatea quits her pearly bed; These Orythia, Clymene, attend, Maera, Amphinome, the train extend; And black Janira, and Jana.s.sa fair, And Amatheia with her amber hair.

All these, and all that deep in ocean held Their sacred seats, the glimmering grotto fill'd; Each beat her ivory breast with silent woe, Till Thetis' sorrows thus began to flow:

"Hear me, and judge, ye sisters of the main!

How just a cause has Thetis to complain!

How wretched, were I mortal, were my fate!

How more than wretched in the immortal state!

Sprung from my bed a G.o.dlike hero came, The bravest far that ever bore the name; Like some fair olive, by my careful hand He grew, he flourish'd and adorn'd the land To Troy I sent him: but the fates ordain He never, never must return again.

So short a s.p.a.ce the light of heaven to view, So short, alas! and fill'd with anguish too!

Hear how his sorrows echo through the sh.o.r.e!

I cannot ease them, but I must deplore; I go at least to bear a tender part, And mourn my loved-one with a mother's heart."

She said, and left the caverns of the main, All bathed in tears; the melancholy train Attend her way. Wide-opening part the tides, While the long pomp the silver wave divides.

Approaching now, they touch'd the Trojan land; Then, two by two, ascended up the strand.

The immortal mother, standing close beside Her mournful offspring, to his sighs replied; Along the coast their mingled clamours ran, And thus the silver-footed dame began:

"Why mourns my son? thy late preferr'd request The G.o.d has granted, and the Greeks distress'd: Why mourns my son? thy anguish let me share, Reveal the cause, and trust a parent's care."

He, deeply groaning--"To this cureless grief, Not even the Thunderer's favour brings relief.

Patroclus--Ah!--say, G.o.ddess, can I boast A pleasure now? revenge itself is lost; Patroclus, loved of all my martial train, Beyond mankind, beyond myself is slain!

Lost are those arms the G.o.ds themselves bestow'd On Peleus; Hector bears the glorious load.

Cursed be that day, when all the powers above Thy charms submitted to a mortal love: O hadst thou still, a sister of the main, Pursued the pleasures of the watery reign: And happier Peleus, less ambitious, led A mortal beauty to his equal bed!

Ere the sad fruit of thy unhappy womb Had caused such sorrows past, and woes to come.

For soon, alas! that wretched offspring slain, New woes, new sorrows, shall create again.

'Tis not in fate the alternate now to give; Patroclus dead, Achilles hates to live.

Let me revenge it on proud Hector's heart, Let his last spirit smoke upon my dart; On these conditions will I breathe: till then, I blush to walk among the race of men."

A flood of tears, at this, the G.o.ddess shed: "Ah then, I see thee dying, see thee dead!

When Hector falls, thou diest."--"Let Hector die, And let me fall! (Achilles made reply) Far lies Patroclus from his native plain!

He fell, and falling, wish'd my aid in vain.

Ah then, since from this miserable day I cast all hope of my return away; Since, unrevenged, a hundred ghosts demand The fate of Hector from Achilles' hand; Since here, for brutal courage far renown'd, I live an idle burden to the ground, (Others in council famed for n.o.bler skill, More useful to preserve, than I to kill,) Let me--But oh! ye gracious powers above!