The Poetry Corner

The Iliad Of Homer: Translated Into English Blank Verse: Book XVIII.

By William Cowper

Argument Of The Eighteenth Book. Achilles, by command of Juno, shows himself to the Trojans, who fly at his appearance; Vulcan, at the insistence of Thetis, forges for him a suit of armor. Thus burn'd the battle like devouring fire. Meantime, Antilochus with rapid steps Came to Achilles. Him he found before His lofty barks, occupied, as he stood, With boding fears of all that had befall'n. He groan'd, and to his noble self he said. Ah! wo is me--why falls Achaia's host, With such disorder foul, back on the fleet? I tremble lest the Gods my anxious thoughts Accomplish and my mother's words, who erst Hath warn'd me, that the bravest and the best Of all my Myrmidons, while yet I live, Slain under Troy, must view the sun no more. Brave Menoetiades is, doubtless, slain. Unhappy friend! I bade thee oft, our barks Deliver'd once from hostile fires, not seek To cope in arms with Hector, but return. While musing thus he stood, the son approach'd Of noble Nestor, and with tears his cheeks Bedewing copious, his sad message told. Oh son of warlike Peleus! thou shalt hear Tidings of deeds which best had never been. Patroclus is no more. The Grecians fight For his bare corse, and Hector hath his arms.[1] Then clouds of sorrow fell on Peleus' son, And, grasping with both hands the ashes, down He pour'd them on his head, his graceful brows Dishonoring, and thick the sooty shower Descending settled on his fragrant vest. Then, stretch'd in ashes, at the vast extent Of his whole length he lay, disordering wild With his own hands, and rending off his hair. The maidens, captived by himself in war And by Patroclus, shrieking from the tent Ran forth, and hemm'd the glorious Chief around.[2] All smote their bosoms, and all, fainting, fell. On the other side, Antilochus the hands Held of Achilles, mourning and deep groans Uttering from his noble heart, through fear Lest Peleus' son should perish self-destroy'd. Loud groan'd the hero, whose loud groans within The gulfs of ocean, where she sat beside Her ancient sire, his Goddess-mother heard, And hearing shriek'd; around her at the voice Assembled all the Nereids of the deep Cymodoce, Thalia, Glauca came, Nisa, Spio, Thoa, and with eyes Protuberant beauteous Halia; came with these Cymothe, and Acta, and the nymph Of marshes, Limnorea, nor delay'd Agave, nor Amphithe the swift, Ira, Doto, Melita, nor thence Was absent Proto or Dynamene, Callianira, Doris, Panope, Pherusa or Amphinome, or fair Dexamene, or Galatea praised For matchless form divine; Nemertes pure Came also, with Apseudes crystal-bright, Callianassa, Mra, Clymene, Janeira and Janassa, sister pair, And Orithya and with azure locks Luxuriant, Amathea; nor alone Came these, but every ocean-nymph beside, The silver cave was fill'd; each smote her breast, And Thetis, loud lamenting, thus began. Ye sister Nereids, hear! that ye may all From my own lips my boundless sorrow learn. Ah me forlorn! ah me, parent in vain Of an illustrious birth! who, having borne A noble son magnanimous, the chief Of heroes, saw him like a thriving plant Shoot vigorous under my maternal care, And sent him early in his gallant fleet Embark'd, to combat with the sons of Troy. But him from fight return'd I shall receive Beneath the roof of Peleus, never more; And while he lives, and on the sun his eyes Opens, he mourns, nor, going, can I aught Assist him; yet I go, that I may see My darling son, and from his lips be taught What grief hath now befallen him, who close Abiding in his tent shares not the war. So saying she left the cave, whom all her nymphs Attended weeping, and where'er they pass'd The breaking billows open'd wide a way. At fruitful Troy arrived, in order fair They climb'd the beach, where by his numerous barks Encompass'd, swift Achilles sighing lay. Then, drawing nigh to her afflicted son, The Goddess-mother press'd between her palms His temples, and in accents wing'd inquired. Why weeps my son? what sorrow wrings thy soul? Speak, hide it not. Jove hath fulfill'd the prayer Which erst with lifted hands thou didst prefer, That all Achaia's host, wanting thy aid, Might be compell'd into the fleet, and foul Disgrace incur, there prison'd for thy sake. To whom Achilles, groaning deep, replied. My mother! it is true; Olympian Jove That prayer fulfils; but thence, what joy to me, Patroclus slain? the friend of all my friends Whom most I loved, dear to me as my life-- Him I have lost. Slain and despoil'd he lies By Hector of his glorious armor bright, The wonder of all eyes, a matchless gift Given by the Gods to Peleus on that day When thee they doom'd into a mortal's arms. Oh that with these thy deathless ocean-nymphs Dwelling content, thou hadst my father left To espouse a mortal bride, so hadst thou 'scaped Pangs numberless which thou must now endure For thy son's death, whom thou shalt never meet From Troy return'd, in Peleus' mansion more! For life I covet not, nor longer wish To mix with human kind, unless my spear May find out Hector, and atonement take By slaying him, for my Patroclus slain. To whom, with streaming tears, Thetis replied. Swift comes thy destiny as thou hast said, For after Hector's death thine next ensues. Then answer, thus, indignant he return'd. Death, seize me now! since when my friend was slain, My doom was, not to succor him. He died From home remote, and wanting me to save him. Now, therefore, since I neither visit more My native land, nor, present here, have aught Avail'd Patroclus or my many friends Whom noble Hector hath in battle slain, But here I sit unprofitable grown, Earth's burden, though of such heroic note, If not in council foremost (for I yield That prize to others) yet in feats of arms, Such as none other in Achaia's host, May fierce contention from among the Gods Perish, and from among the human race, With wrath, which sets the wisest hearts on fire; Sweeter than dropping honey to the taste, But in the bosom of mankind, a smoke![3] Such was my wrath which Agamemnon roused, The king of men. But since the past is fled Irrevocable, howsoe'er distress'd, Renounce we now vain musings on the past, Content through sad necessity. I go In quest of noble Hector, who hath slain My loved Patroclus, and such death will take As Jove ordains me and the Powers of Heaven At their own season, send it when they may. For neither might the force of Hercules, Although high-favored of Saturnian Jove, From death escape, but Fate and the revenge Restless of Juno vanquish'd even Him. I also, if a destiny like his Await me, shall, like him, find rest in death; But glory calls me now; now will I make Some Trojan wife or Dardan with both hands Wipe her soft cheeks, and utter many a groan. Long time have I been absent from the field, And they shall know it. Love me as thou may'st, Yet thwart me not, for I am fixt to go. Whom Thetis answer'd, Goddess of the Deep. Thou hast well said, my son! it is no blame To save from threaten'd death our suffering friends. But thy magnificent and dazzling arms Are now in Trojan hands; them Hector wears Exulting, but ordain'd not long to exult, So habited; his death is also nigh. But thou with yonder warring multitudes Mix not till thou behold me here again; For with the rising sun I will return To-morrow, and will bring thee glorious arms, By Vulcan forged himself, the King of fire.[4] She said, and turning from her son aside, The sisterhood of Ocean thus address'd. Plunge ye again into the briny Deep, And to the hoary Sovereign of the floods Report as ye have heard. I to the heights Olympian haste, that I may there obtain From Vulcan, glorious artist of the skies, Arms of excelling beauty for my son. She said; they plunged into the waves again, And silver-footed Thetis, to the heights Olympian soaring swiftly to obtain Arms for renown'd Achilles, disappear'd. Meantime, with infinite uproar the Greeks From Hector's hero-slaying arm had fled Home to their galleys station'd on the banks Of Hellespont. Nor yet Achaia's sons Had borne the body of Patroclus clear From flight of darts away, but still again The multitude of warriors and of steeds Came on, by Priameian Hector led Rapid as fire. Thrice noble Hector seized His ancles from behind, ardent to drag Patroclus, calling to his host the while; But thrice, the two Ajaces, clothed with might, Shock'd and repulsed him reeling. He with force Fill'd indefatigable, through his ranks Issuing, by turns assail'd them, and by turns Stood clamoring, yet not a step retired; But as the hinds deter not from his prey A tawny lion by keen hunger urged, So would not both Ajaces, warriors bold, Intimidate and from the body drive Hector; and he had dragg'd him thence and won Immortal glory, but that Iris, sent Unseen by Jove and by the powers of heaven, From Juno, to Achilles brought command That he should show himself. Full near she drew, And in wing'd accents thus the Chief address'd. Hero! most terrible of men, arise! protect Patroclus, for whose sake the war Stands at the fleet of Greece. Mutual prevails The slaughter, these the dead defending, those Resolute hence to drag him to the gates Of wind-swept Ilium. But beyond them all Illustrious Hector, obstinate is bent To win him, purposing to lop his head, And to exhibit it impaled on high. Thou then arise, nor longer on the ground Lie stretch'd inactive; let the thought with shame Touch thee, of thy Patroclus made the sport Of Trojan dogs, whose corse, if it return Dishonored home, brings with it thy reproach. To whom Achilles matchless in the race. Iris divine! of all the Gods, who sent thee? Then, thus, the swift ambassadress of heaven. By Juno sent I come, consort of Jove. Nor knows Saturnian Jove high-throned, himself, My flight, nor any of the Immortal Powers, Tenants of the Olympian heights snow-crown'd. Her answer'd then Pelides, glorious Chief. How shall I seek the fight? they have my arms. My mother charged me also to abstain From battle, till she bring me armor new Which she hath promised me from Vulcan's hand. Meantime, whose armor else might serve my need I know not, save perhaps alone the shield Of Telamonian Ajax, whom I deem Himself now busied in the stormy van, Slaying the Trojans in my friend's defence. To whom the swift-wing'd messenger of heaven, Full well we know thine armor Hector's prize Yet, issuing to the margin of the foss, Show thyself only. Panic-seized, perchance, The Trojans shall from fight desist, and yield To the o'ertoil'd though dauntless sons of Greece Short respite; it is all that war allows. So saying, the storm-wing'd Iris disappear'd. Then rose at once Achilles dear to Jove, Athwart whose shoulders broad Minerva cast Her gis fringed terrific, and his brows Encircled with a golden cloud that shot Fires insupportable to sight abroad. As when some island, situate afar On the wide waves, invested all the day By cruel foes from their own city pour'd, Upsends a smoke to heaven, and torches shows On all her turrets at the close of eve Which flash against the clouds, kindled in hope Of aid from neighbor maritime allies, So from Achilles' head light flash'd to heaven. Issuing through the wall, beside the foss He stood, but mix'd not with Achaia's host, Obedient to his mother's wise command. He stood and shouted; Pallas also raised A dreadful shout and tumult infinite Excited throughout all the host of Troy. Clear as the trumpet's note when it proclaims A numerous host approaching to invest Some city close around, so clear the voice Rang of acides, and tumult-toss'd Was every soul that heard the brazen tone. With swift recoil the long-maned coursers thrust The chariots back, all boding wo at hand, And every charioteer astonish'd saw Fires that fail'd not, illumining the brows Of Peleus' son, by Pallas kindled there. Thrice o'er the trench Achilles sent his voice Sonorous, and confusion at the sound Thrice seized the Trojans, and their famed allies. Twelve in that moment of their noblest died By their own spears and chariots, and with joy The Grecians from beneath a hill of darts Dragging Patroclus, placed him on his bier. Around him throng'd his fellow-warriors bold, All weeping, after whom Achilles went Fast-weeping also at the doleful sight Of his true friend on his funereal bed Extended, gash'd with many a mortal wound, Whom he had sent into the fight with steeds And chariot, but received him thence no more. And now majestic Juno sent the sun, Unwearied minister of light, although Reluctant, down into the Ocean stream.[5] So the sun sank, and the Achaians ceased From the all-wasting labors of the war. On the other side, the Trojans, from the fight Retiring, loosed their steeds, but ere they took Thought of refreshment, in full council met. It was a council at which no man sat, Or dared; all stood; such terror had on all Fallen, for that Achilles had appear'd, After long pause from battle's arduous toil. First rose Polydamas the prudent son Of Panthus, above all the Trojans skill'd Both in futurity and in the past. He was the friend of Hector, and one night Gave birth to both. In council one excell'd And one still more in feats of high renown. Thus then, admonishing them, he began. My friends! weigh well the occasion. Back to Troy By my advice, nor wait the sacred morn Here, on the plain, from Ilium's walls remote So long as yet the anger of this Chief 'Gainst noble Agamemnon burn'd, so long We found the Greeks less formidable foes, And I rejoiced, myself, spending the night Beside their oary barks, for that I hoped To seize them; but I now tremble at thought Of Peleus' rapid son again in arms. A spirit proud as his will scorn to fight Here, on the plain, where Greeks and Trojans take Their common share of danger and of toil, And will at once strike at your citadel, Impatient till he make your wives his prey. Haste--let us home--else thus shall it befall; Night's balmy influence in his tent detains Achilles now, but rushing arm'd abroad To-morrow, should he find us lingering here, None shall mistake him then; happy the man Who soonest, then, shall 'scape to sacred Troy! Then, dogs shall make and vultures on our flesh Plenteous repast. Oh spare mine ears the tale! But if, though troubled, ye can yet receive My counsel, thus assembled we will keep Strict guard to-night; meantime, her gates and towers With all their mass of solid timbers, smooth And cramp'd with bolts of steel, will keep the town. But early on the morrow we will stand All arm'd on Ilium's towers. Then, if he choose, His galleys left, to compass Troy about, He shall be task'd enough; his lofty steeds Shall have their fill of coursing to and fro Beneath, and gladly shall to camp return. But waste the town he shall not, nor attempt With all the utmost valor that he boasts To force a pass; dogs shall devour him first. To whom brave Hector louring, and in wrath. Polydamas, I like not thy advice Who bidd'st us in our city skulk, again Imprison'd there. Are ye not yet content? Wish ye for durance still in your own towers? Time was, when in all regions under heaven Men praised the wealth of Priam's city stored With gold and brass; but all our houses now Stand emptied of their hidden treasures rare. Jove in his wrath hath scatter'd them; our wealth Is marketed, and Phrygia hath a part Purchased, and part Monia's lovely land. But since the son of wily Saturn old Hath given me glory now, and to inclose The Grecians in their fleet hemm'd by the sea, Fool! taint not with such talk the public mind. For not a Trojan here will thy advice Follow, or shall; it hath not my consent. But thus I counsel. Let us, band by band, Throughout the host take supper, and let each, Guarded against nocturnal danger, watch. And if a Trojan here be rack'd in mind Lest his possessions perish, let him cast His golden heaps into the public maw,[6] Far better so consumed than by the Greeks. Then, with the morrow's dawn, all fair array'd In battle, we will give them at their fleet Sharp onset, and if Peleus' noble son Have risen indeed to conflict for the ships, The worse for him. I shall not for his sake Avoid the deep-toned battle, but will firm Oppose his utmost. Either he shall gain Or I, great glory. Mars his favors deals Impartial, and the slayer oft is slain. So counsell'd Hector, whom with shouts of praise The Trojans answer'd:--fools, and by the power Of Pallas of all sober thought bereft! For all applauded Hector, who had given Advice pernicious, and Polydamas, Whose counsel was discreet and wholesome none. So then they took repast. But all night long The Grecians o'er Patroclus wept aloud, While, standing in the midst, Pelides led The lamentation, heaving many a groan, And on the bosom of his breathless friend Imposing, sad, his homicidal hands. As the grim lion, from whose gloomy lair Among thick trees the hunter hath his whelps Purloin'd, too late returning mourns his loss, Then, up and down, the length of many a vale Courses, exploring fierce the robber's foot, Incensed as he, and with a sigh deep-drawn Thus to his Myrmidons Achilles spake. How vain, alas! my word spoken that day At random, when to soothe the hero's fears Menoetius, then our guest, I promised him His noble son at Opoeis again, Living and laden with the spoils of Troy! But Jove performs not all the thoughts of man, For we were both destined to tinge the soil Of Ilium with our blood, nor I shall see, Myself, my father in his mansion more Or Thetis, but must find my burial here. Yet, my Patroclus! since the earth expects Me next, I will not thy funereal rites Finish, till I shall bring both head and arms Of that bold Chief who slew thee, to my tent. I also will smite off, before thy pile, The heads of twelve illustrious sons of Troy, Resentful of thy death. Meantime, among My lofty galleys thou shalt lie, with tears Mourn'd day and night by Trojan captives fair And Dardan compassing thy bier around, Whom we, at price of labor hard, ourselves With massy spears toiling in battle took From many an opulent city, now no more. So saying, he bade his train surround with fire A tripod huge, that they might quickly cleanse Patroclus from all stain of clotted gore. They on the blazing hearth a tripod placed Capacious, fill'd with water its wide womb, And thrust dry wood beneath, till, fierce, the flames Embraced it round, and warm'd the flood within. Soon as the water in the singing brass Simmer'd, they bathed him, and with limpid oil Anointed; filling, next, his ruddy wounds With unguent mellow'd by nine circling years, They stretch'd him on his bed, then cover'd him From head to feet with linen texture light, And with a wide unsullied mantle, last.[7] All night the Myrmidons around the swift Achilles stood, deploring loud his friend, And Jove his spouse and sister thus bespake. So then, Imperial Juno! not in vain Thou hast the swift Achilles sought to rouse Again to battle; the Achaians, sure, Are thy own children, thou hast borne them all. To whom the awful Goddess ample-eyed. What word hath pass'd thy lips, Jove, most severe? A man, though mortal merely, and to me Inferior in device, might have achieved That labor easily. Can I who boast Myself the chief of Goddesses, and such Not by birth only, but as thine espoused, Who art thyself sovereign of all the Gods, Can I with anger burn against the house Of Priam, and want means of just revenge? Thus they in heaven their mutual conference Meantime, the silver-footed Thetis reach'd The starr'd abode eternal, brazen wall'd Of Vulcan, by the builder lame himself Uprear'd, a wonder even in eyes divine. She found him sweating, at his bellows huge Toiling industrious; tripods bright he form'd Twenty at once, his palace-wall to grace Ranged in harmonious order. Under each Two golden wheels he set, on which (a sight Marvellous!) into council they should roll Self-moved, and to his house, self-moved, return. Thus far the work was finish'd, but not yet Their ears of exquisite design affixt, For them he stood fashioning, and prepared The rivets. While he thus his matchless skill Employ'd laborious, to his palace-gate The silver-footed Thetis now advanced, Whom Charis, Vulcan's well-attired spouse, Beholding from the palace portal, flew To seize the Goddess' hand, and thus inquired. Why, Thetis! worthy of all reverence And of all love, comest thou to our abode, Unfrequent here? But enter, and accept Such welcome as to such a guest is due. So saying, she introduced and to a seat Led her with argent studs border'd around And foot-stool'd sumptuously;[8] then, calling forth Her spouse, the glorious artist, thus she said. Haste, Vulcan! Thetis wants thee; linger not. To whom the artist of the skies replied. A Goddess then, whom with much cause I love And venerate is here, who when I fell Saved me, what time my shameless mother sought To cast me, because lame, out of all sight; Then had I been indeed forlorn, had not Eurynome the daughter of the Deep And Thetis in their laps received me fallen. Nine years with them residing, for their use I form'd nice trinkets, clasps, rings, pipes, and chains, While loud around our hollow cavern roar'd The surge of the vast deep, nor God nor man, Save Thetis and Eurynome, my life's Preservers, knew where I was kept conceal'd. Since, therefore, she is come, I cannot less Than recompense to Thetis amber-hair'd With readiness the boon of life preserved. Haste, then, and hospitably spread the board For her regale, while with my best dispatch I lay my bellows and my tools aside. He spake, and vast in bulk and hot with toil Rose limping from beside his anvil-stock Upborne, with pain on legs tortuous and weak. First, from the forge dislodged he thrust apart His bellows, and his tools collecting all Bestow'd them, careful, in a silver chest, Then all around with a wet sponge he wiped His visage, and his arms and brawny neck Purified, and his shaggy breast from smutch; Last, putting on his vest, he took in hand His sturdy staff, and shuffled through the door. Beside the King of fire two golden forms Majestic moved, that served him in the place Of handmaids; young they seem'd, and seem'd alive, Nor want they intellect, or speech, or force, Or prompt dexterity by the Gods inspired. These his supporters were, and at his side Attendant diligent, while he, with gait Uncouth, approaching Thetis where she sat On a bright throne, seized fast her hand and said, Why, Thetis! worthy as thou art of love And of all reverence, hast thou arrived, Unfrequent here? Speak--tell me thy desire, Nor doubt my services, if thou demand Things possible, and possible to me. Then Thetis, weeping plenteously, replied. Oh Vulcan! Is there on Olympius' heights A Goddess with such load of sorrow press'd As, in peculiar, Jove assigns to me? Me only, of all ocean-nymphs, he made Spouse to a man, Peleus acides, Whose bed, although reluctant and perforce, I yet endured to share. He now, the prey Of cheerless age, decrepid lies, and Jove Still other woes heaps on my wretched head. He gave me to bring forth, gave me to rear A son illustrious, valiant, and the chief Of heroes; he, like a luxuriant plant Upran[9] to manhood, while his lusty growth I nourish'd as the husbandman his vine Set in a fruitful field, and being grown I sent him early in his gallant fleet Embark'd, to combat with the sons of Troy; But him from fight return'd I shall receive, Beneath the roof of Peleus, never more, And while he lives and on the sun his eyes Opens, affliction is his certain doom, Nor aid resides or remedy in me. The virgin, his own portion of the spoils, Allotted to him by the Grecians--her Atrides, King of men, resumed, and grief Devour'd Achilles' spirit for her sake. Meantime, the Trojans shutting close within Their camp the Grecians, have forbidden them All egress, and the senators of Greece Have sought with splendid gifts to soothe my son. He, indisposed to rescue them himself From ruin, sent, instead, Patroclus forth, Clad in his own resplendent armor, Chief Of the whole host of Myrmidons. Before The Scan gate from morn to eve they fought, And on that self-same day had Ilium fallen, But that Apollo, to advance the fame Of Hector, slew Menoetius' noble son Full-flush'd with victory. Therefore at thy knees Suppliant I fall, imploring from thine art A shield and helmet, greaves of shapely form With clasps secured, and corselet for my son. For those, once his, his faithful friend hath lost, Slain by the Trojans, and Achilles lies, Himself, extended mournful on the ground. Her answer'd then the artist of the skies. Courage! Perplex not with these cares thy soul. I would that when his fatal hour shall come, I could as sure secrete him from the stroke Of destiny, as he shall soon have arms Illustrious, such as each particular man Of thousands, seeing them, shall wish his own. He said, and to his bellows quick repair'd, Which turning to the fire he bade them heave. Full twenty bellows working all at once Breathed on the furnace, blowing easy and free The managed winds, now forcible, as best Suited dispatch, now gentle, if the will Of Vulcan and his labor so required. Impenetrable brass, tin, silver, gold, He cast into the forge, then, settling firm His ponderous anvil on the block, one hand With his huge hammer fill'd, one with the tongs. [10]He fashion'd first a shield massy and broad Of labor exquisite, for which he form'd A triple border beauteous, dazzling bright, And loop'd it with a silver brace behind. The shield itself with five strong folds he forged, And with devices multiform the disk Capacious charged, toiling with skill divine. There he described the earth, the heaven, the sea, The sun that rests not, and the moon full-orb'd. There also, all the stars which round about As with a radiant frontlet bind the skies, The Pleiads and the Hyads, and the might Of huge Orion, with him Ursa call'd, Known also by his popular name, the Wain, That spins around the pole looking toward Orion, only star of these denied To slake his beams in ocean's briny baths. Two splendid cities also there he form'd Such as men build. In one were to be seen Rites matrimonial solemnized with pomp Of sumptuous banquets; from their chambers forth Leading the brides they usher'd them along With torches through the streets, and sweet was heard The voice around of Hymenal song. Here striplings danced in circles to the sound Of pipe and harp, while in the portals stood Women, admiring, all, the gallant show. Elsewhere was to be seen in council met The close-throng'd multitude. There strife arose. Two citizens contended for a mulct The price of blood. This man affirm'd the fine All paid,[11] haranguing vehement the crowd, That man denied that he had aught received, And to the judges each made his appeal Eager for their award. Meantime the people, As favor sway'd them, clamor'd loud for each. The heralds quell'd the tumult; reverend sat On polish'd stones the elders in a ring, Each with a herald's sceptre in his hand, Which holding they arose, and all in turn Gave sentence. In the midst two talents lay Of gold, his destined recompense whose voice Decisive should pronounce the best award. The other city by two glittering hosts Invested stood, and a dispute arose Between the hosts, whether to burn the town And lay all waste, or to divide the spoil. Meantime, the citizens, still undismay'd, Surrender'd not the town, but taking arms Secretly, set the ambush in array, And on the walls their wives and children kept Vigilant guard, with all the ancient men. They sallied; at their head Pallas and Mars Both golden and in golden vests attired Advanced, proportion each showing divine, Large, prominent, and such as Gods beseem'd. Not such the people, but of humbler size. Arriving at the spot for ambush chosen, A river's side, where cattle of each kind Drank, down they sat, all arm'd in dazzling brass. Apart from all the rest sat also down Two spies, both looking for the flocks and herds. Soon they appear'd, and at their side were seen Two shepherd swains, each playing on his pipe Careless, and of the danger nought apprized, Swift ran the spies, perceiving their approach, And intercepting suddenly the herds And flocks of silver fleece, slew also those Who fed them. The besiegers, at that time In council, by the sound alarm'd, their steeds Mounted, and hasted, instant, to the place; Then, standing on the river's brink they fought And push'd each other with the brazen lance. There Discord raged, there Tumult, and the force Of ruthless Destiny; she now a Chief Seized newly wounded, and now captive held Another yet unhurt, and now a third Dragg'd breathless through the battle by his feet And all her garb was dappled thick with blood Like living men they traversed and they strove, And dragg'd by turns the bodies of the slain. He also graved on it a fallow field Rich, spacious, and well-till'd. Plowers not few, There driving to and fro their sturdy teams, Labor'd the land; and oft as in their course They came to the field's bourn, so oft a man Met them, who in their hands a goblet placed Charged with delicious wine. They, turning, wrought Each his own furrow, and impatient seem'd To reach the border of the tilth, which black Appear'd behind them as a glebe new-turn'd, Though golden. Sight to be admired by all! There too he form'd the likeness of a field Crowded with corn, in which the reapers toil'd Each with a sharp-tooth'd sickle in his hand. Along the furrow here, the harvest fell In frequent handfuls, there, they bound the sheaves. Three binders of the sheaves their sultry task All plied industrious, and behind them boys Attended, filling with the corn their arms And offering still their bundles to be bound. Amid them, staff in hand, the master stood Silent exulting, while beneath an oak Apart, his heralds busily prepared The banquet, dressing a well-thriven ox New slain, and the attendant maidens mix'd Large supper for the hinds of whitest flour. There also, laden with its fruit he form'd A vineyard all of gold; purple he made The clusters, and the vines supported stood By poles of silver set in even rows. The trench he color'd sable, and around Fenced it with tin. One only path it show'd By which the gatherers when they stripp'd the vines Pass'd and repass'd. There, youths and maidens blithe In frails of wicker bore the luscious fruit, While, in the midst, a boy on his shrill harp Harmonious play'd, still as he struck the chord Carolling to it with a slender voice. They smote the ground together, and with song And sprightly reed came dancing on behind.[12] There too a herd he fashion'd of tall beeves Part gold, part tin. They, lowing, from the stalls Rush'd forth to pasture by a river-side Rapid, sonorous, fringed with whispering reeds. Four golden herdsmen drove the kine a-field By nine swift dogs attended. Dreadful sprang Two lions forth, and of the foremost herd Seized fast a bull. Him bellowing they dragg'd, While dogs and peasants all flew to his aid. The lions tore the hide of the huge prey And lapp'd his entrails and his blood. Meantime The herdsmen, troubling them in vain, their hounds Encouraged; but no tooth for lions' flesh Found they, and therefore stood aside and bark'd. There also, the illustrious smith divine Amidst a pleasant grove a pasture form'd Spacious, and sprinkled o'er with silver sheep Numerous, and stalls and huts and shepherds' tents. To these the glorious artist added next, With various skill delineated exact, A labyrinth for the dance, such as of old In Crete's broad island Ddalus composed For bright-hair'd Ariadne.[13] There the youths And youth-alluring maidens, hand in hand, Danced jocund, every maiden neat-attired In finest linen, and the youths in vests Well-woven, glossy as the glaze of oil. These all wore garlands, and bright falchions, those, Of burnish'd gold in silver trappings hung:--[14] They with well-tutor'd step, now nimbly ran The circle, swift, as when, before his wheel Seated, the potter twirls it with both hands For trial of its speed,[15] now, crossing quick They pass'd at once into each other's place. On either side spectators numerous stood Delighted, and two tumblers roll'd themselves Between the dancers, singing as they roll'd. Last, with the might of ocean's boundless flood He fill'd the border of the wondrous shield. When thus the massy shield magnificent He had accomplish'd, for the hero next He forged, more ardent than the blaze of fire, A corselet; then, a ponderous helmet bright Well fitted to his brows, crested with gold, And with laborious art divine adorn'd. He also made him greaves of molten tin. The armor finish'd, bearing in his hand The whole, he set it down at Thetis' feet. She, like a falcon from the snowy top Stoop'd of Olympus, bearing to the earth The dazzling wonder, fresh from Vulcan's hand.