The Poetry Corner

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

By William Cowper

Argument Of The Twenty-First Book. Achilles having separated the Trojans, and driven one part of them to the city and the other into the Scamander, takes twelve young men alive, his intended victims to the manes of Patroclus. The river overflowing his banks with purpose to overwhelm him, is opposed by Vulcan, and gladly relinquishes the attempt. The battle of the gods ensues. Apollo, in the form of Agenor, decoys Achilles from the town, which in the mean time the Trojans enter and shut the gates against him. [1]But when they came, at length, where Xanthus winds His stream vortiginous from Jove derived, There, separating Ilium's host, he drove Part o'er the plain to Troy in the same road By which the Grecians had so lately fled The fury of illustrious Hector's arm. That way they fled pouring themselves along Flood-like, and Juno, to retard them, threw Darkness as night before them. Other part, Push'd down the sides of Xanthus, headlong plunged With dashing sound into his dizzy stream, And all his banks re-echoed loud the roar. They, struggling, shriek'd in silver eddies whirl'd. As when, by violence of fire expell'd, Locusts uplifted on the wing escape To some broad river, swift the sudden blaze Pursues them, they, astonish'd, strew the flood,[2] So, by Achilles driven, a mingled throng Of horses and of warriors overspread Xanthus, and glutted all his sounding course He, chief of heroes, leaving on the bank His spear against a tamarisk reclined, Plunged like a God, with falchion arm'd alone But fill'd with thoughts of havoc. On all sides Down came his edge; groans follow'd dread to hear Of warriors smitten by the sword, and all The waters as they ran redden'd with blood. As smaller fishes, flying the pursuit Of some huge dolphin, terrified, the creeks And secret hollows of a haven fill, For none of all that he can seize he spares, So lurk'd the trembling Trojans in the caves Of Xanthus' awful flood. But he (his hands Wearied at length with slaughter) from the rest Twelve youths selected whom to death he doom'd, In vengeance for his loved Patroclus slain. Them stupified with dread like fawns he drove Forth from the river, manacling their hands Behind them fast with their own tunic-strings, And gave them to his warrior train in charge. Then, ardent still for blood, rushing again Toward the stream, Dardanian Priam's son He met, Lycaon, as he climb'd the bank. Him erst by night, in his own father's field Finding him, he had led captive away. Lycaon was employ'd cutting green shoots Of the wild-fig for chariot-rings, when lo! Terrible, unforeseen, Achilles came. He seized and sent him in a ship afar To Lemnos; there the son of Jason paid His price, and, at great cost, Etion The guest of Jason, thence redeeming him, Sent him to fair Arisba;[3] but he 'scaped Thence also and regain'd his father's house. Eleven days, at his return, he gave To recreation joyous with his friends, And on the twelfth his fate cast him again Into Achilles' hands, who to the shades Now doom'd him, howsoever loth to go. Soon as Achilles swiftest of the swift Him naked saw (for neither spear had he Nor shield nor helmet, but, when he emerged, Weary and faint had cast them all away) Indignant to his mighty self he said. Gods! I behold a miracle! Ere long The valiant Trojans whom my self have slain Shall rise from Erebus, for he is here, The self-same warrior whom I lately sold At Lemnos, free, and in the field again. The hoary deep is prison strong enough For most, but not for him. Now shall he taste The point of this my spear, that I may learn By sure experience, whether hell itself That holds the strongest fast, can him detain, Or whether he shall thence also escape. While musing thus he stood, stunn'd with dismay The youth approach'd, eager to clasp his knees, For vehement he felt the dread of death Working within him; with his Pelian ash Uplifted high noble Achilles stood Ardent to smite him; he with body bent Ran under it, and to his knees adhered; The weapon, missing him, implanted stood Close at his back, when, seizing with one hand Achilles' knees, he with the other grasp'd The dreadful beam, resolute through despair, And in wing'd accents suppliant thus began. Oh spare me! pity me! Behold I clasp Thy knees, Achilles! Ah, illustrious Chief! Reject not with disdain a suppliant's prayer. I am thy guest also, who at thy own board Have eaten bread, and did partake the gift Of Ceres with thee on the very day When thou didst send me in yon field surprised For sale to sacred Lemnos, far remote, And for my price receiv'dst a hundred beeves. Loose me, and I will yield thee now that sum Thrice told. Alas! this morn is but the twelfth Since, after numerous hardships, I arrived Once more in Troy, and now my ruthless lot Hath given me into thy hands again. Jove cannot less than hate me, who hath twice Made me thy prisoner, and my doom was death, Death in my prime, the day when I was born Son of Laothe from Alta sprung, From Alta, whom the Leleges obey On Satnio's banks in lofty Pedasus. His daughter to his other numerous wives King Priam added, and two sons she bore Only to be deprived by thee of both. My brother hath already died, in front Of Ilium's infantry, by thy bright spear, The godlike Polydorus; and like doom Shall now be mine, for I despair to escape Thine hands, to which the Gods yield me again. But hear and mark me well. My birth was not From the same womb as Hector's, who hath slain Thy valiant friend for clemency renown'd. Such supplication the illustrious son Of Priam made, but answer harsh received. Fool! speak'st of ransom? Name it not to me. For till my friend his miserable fate Accomplish'd, I was somewhat given to spare, And numerous, whom I seized alive, I sold. But now, of all the Trojans whom the Gods Deliver to me, none shall death escape, 'Specially of the house of Priam, none. Die therefore, even thou, my friend! What mean Thy tears unreasonably shed and vain? Died not Patroclus. braver far than thou? And look on me--see'st not to what a height My stature towers, and what a bulk I boast? A King begat me, and a Goddess bore. What then! A death by violence awaits Me also, and at morn, or eve, or noon, I perish, whensoe'er the destined spear Shall reach me, or the arrow from the nerve. He ceased, and where the suppliant kneel'd, he died. Quitting the spear, with both hands spread abroad He sat, but swift Achilles with his sword 'Twixt neck and key-bone smote him, and his blade Of double edge sank all into the wound. He prone extended on the champain lay Bedewing with his sable blood the glebe, Till, by the foot, Achilles cast him far Into the stream, and, as he floated down, Thus in wing'd accents, glorying, exclaim'd. Lie there, and feed the fishes, which shall lick Thy blood secure. Thy mother ne'er shall place Thee on thy bier, nor on thy body weep, But swift Scamander on his giddy tide Shall bear thee to the bosom of the sea. There, many a fish shall through the crystal flood Ascending to the rippled surface, find Lycaon's pamper'd flesh delicious fare. Die Trojans! till we reach your city, you Fleeing, and slaughtering, I. This pleasant stream Of dimpling silver which ye worship oft With victim bulls, and sate with living steeds[4] His rapid whirlpools, shall avail you nought, But ye shall die, die terribly, till all Shall have requited me with just amends For my Patroclus, and for other Greeks Slain at the ships while I declined the war. He ended, at those words still more incensed Scamander means devised, thenceforth to check Achilles, and avert the doom of Troy. Meantime the son of Peleus, his huge spear Grasping, assail'd Asteropus son Of Pelegon, on fire to take his life. Fair Periboea, daughter eldest-born Of Acessamenus, his father bore To broad-stream'd Axius, who had clasp'd the nymph In his embrace. On him Achilles sprang. He newly risen from the river, stood Arm'd with two lances opposite, for him Xanthus embolden'd, at the deaths incensed Of many a youth, whom, mercy none vouchsafed, Achilles had in all his current slain. And now small distance interposed, they faced Each other, when Achilles thus began. Who art and whence, who dar'st encounter me? Hapless the sires whose sons my force defy. To whom the noble son of Pelegon. Pelides, mighty Chief? Why hast thou ask'd My derivation? From the land I come Of mellow-soil'd Poeonia far remote, Chief leader of Poenia's host spear-arm'd; This day hath also the eleventh risen Since I at Troy arrived. For my descent, It is from Axius river wide-diffused, From Axius, fairest stream that waters earth, Sire of bold Pelegon whom men report My sire. Let this suffice. Now fight, Achilles! So spake he threatening, and Achilles raised Dauntless the Pelian ash. At once two spears The hero bold, Asteropus threw, With both hands apt for battle. One his shield Struck but pierced not, impeded by the gold, Gift of a God; the other as it flew Grazed at his right elbow; sprang the sable blood; But, overflying him, the spear in earth Stood planted deep, still hungering for the prey. Then, full at the Poeonian Peleus' son Hurl'd forth his weapon with unsparing force But vain; he struck the sloping river bank, And mid-length deep stood plunged the ashen beam. Then, with his falchion drawn, Achilles flew To smite him; he in vain, meantime, essay'd To pluck the rooted spear forth from the bank; Thrice with full force he shook the beam, and thrice, Although reluctant, left it; at his fourth Last effort, bending it he sought to break The ashen spear-beam of acides, But perish'd by his keen-edged falchion first; For on the belly at his navel's side He smote him; to the ground effused fell all His bowels, death's dim shadows veil'd his eyes. Achilles ardent on his bosom fix'd His foot, despoil'd him, and exulting cried. Lie there; though River-sprung, thou find'st it hard To cope with sons of Jove omnipotent. Thou said'st, a mighty River is my sire-- But my descent from mightier Jove I boast; My father, whom the Myrmidons obey, Is son of acus, and he of Jove. As Jove all streams excels that seek the sea, So, Jove's descendants nobler are than theirs. Behold a River at thy side--let him Afford thee, if he can, some succor--No-- He may not fight against Saturnian Jove. Therefore, not kingly Achelous, Nor yet the strength of Ocean's vast profound, Although from him all rivers and all seas, All fountains and all wells proceed, may boast Comparison with Jove, but even he Astonish'd trembles at his fiery bolt, And his dread thunders rattling in the sky. He said, and drawing from the bank his spear[5] Asteropus left stretch'd on the sands, Where, while the clear wave dash'd him, eels his flanks And ravening fishes numerous nibbled bare. The horsed Poeonians next he fierce assail'd, Who seeing their brave Chief slain by the sword And forceful arm of Peleus' son, beside The eddy-whirling stream fled all dispersed. Thersilochus and Mydon then he slew, Thrasius, Astypylus and Ophelestes, nius and Mnesus; nor had these sufficed Achilles, but Poeonians more had fallen, Had not the angry River from within His circling gulfs in semblance, of a man Call'd to him, interrupting thus his rage. Oh both in courage and injurious deeds Unmatch'd, Achilles! whom themselves the Gods Cease not to aid, if Saturn's son have doom'd All Ilium's race to perish by thine arm, Expel them, first, from me, ere thou achieve That dread exploit; for, cumber'd as I am With bodies, I can pour my pleasant stream No longer down into the sacred deep; All vanish where thou comest. But oh desist Dread Chief! Amazement fills me at thy deeds. To whom Achilles, matchless in the race. River divine! hereafter be it so. But not from slaughter of this faithless host I cease, till I shall shut them fast in Troy And trial make of Hector, if his arm In single fight shall strongest prove, or mine He said, and like a God, furious, again Assail'd the Trojans; then the circling flood To Phoebus thus his loud complaint address'd. Ah son of Jove, God of the silver bow! The mandate of the son of Saturn ill Hast thou perform'd, who, earnest, bade thee aid The Trojans, till (the sun sunk in the West) Night's shadow dim should veil the fruitful field. He ended, and Achilles spear-renown'd Plunged from the bank into the middle stream. Then, turbulent, the River all his tide Stirr'd from the bottom, landward heaving off The numerous bodies that his current chok'd Slain by Achilles; them, as with the roar Of bulls, he cast aground, but deep within His oozy gulfs the living safe conceal'd. Terrible all around Achilles stood The curling wave, then, falling on his shield Dash'd him, nor found his footsteps where to rest. An elm of massy trunk he seized and branch Luxuriant, but it fell torn from the root And drew the whole bank after it; immersed It damm'd the current with its ample boughs, And join'd as with a bridge the distant shores, Upsprang Achilles from the gulf and turn'd His feet, now wing'd for flight, into the plain Astonish'd; but the God, not so appeased, Arose against him with a darker curl,[6] That he might quell him and deliver Troy. Back flew Achilles with a bound, the length Of a spear's cast, for such a spring he own'd As bears the black-plumed eagle on her prey Strongest and swiftest of the fowls of air. Like her he sprang, and dreadful on his chest Clang'd his bright armor. Then, with course oblique He fled his fierce pursuer, but the flood, Fly where he might, came thundering in his rear. As when the peasant with his spade a rill Conducts from some pure fountain through his grove Or garden, clearing the obstructed course, The pebbles, as it runs, all ring beneath, And, as the slope still deepens, swifter still It runs, and, murmuring, outstrips the guide, So him, though swift, the river always reach'd Still swifter; who can cope with power divine? Oft as the noble Chief, turning, essay'd Resistance, and to learn if all the Gods Alike rush'd after him, so oft the flood, Jove's offspring, laved his shoulders. Upward then He sprang distress'd, but with a sidelong sweep Assailing him, and from beneath his steps Wasting the soil, the Stream his force subdued. Then looking to the skies, aloud he mourn'd. Eternal Sire! forsaken by the Gods I sink, none deigns to save me from the flood, From which once saved, I would no death decline. Yet blame I none of all the Powers of heaven As Thetis; she with falsehood sooth'd my soul, She promised me a death by Phoebus' shafts Swift-wing'd, beneath the battlements of Troy. I would that Hector, noblest of his race, Had slain me, I had then bravely expired And a brave man had stripp'd me of my arms. But fate now dooms me to a death abhorr'd Whelm'd in deep waters, like a swine-herd's boy Drown'd in wet weather while he fords a brook. So spake Achilles; then, in human form, Minerva stood and Neptune at his side; Each seized his hand confirming him, and thus The mighty Shaker of the shores began. Achilles! moderate thy dismay, fear nought. In us behold, in Pallas and in me, Effectual aids, and with consent of Jove; For to be vanquish'd by a River's force Is not thy doom. This foe shall soon be quell'd; Thine eyes shall see it. Let our counsel rule Thy deed, and all is well. Cease not from war Till fast within proud Ilium's walls her host Again be prison'd, all who shall escape; Then (Hector slain) to the Achaian fleet Return; we make the glorious victory thine. So they, and both departing sought the skies. Then, animated by the voice divine, He moved toward the plain now all o'erspread By the vast flood on which the bodies swam And shields of many a youth in battle slain. He leap'd, he waded, and the current stemm'd Right onward, by the flood in vain opposed, With such might Pallas fill'd him. Nor his rage Scamander aught repress'd, but still the more Incensed against Achilles, curl'd aloft His waters, and on Simos call'd aloud. Brother! oh let us with united force Check, if we may, this warrior; he shall else Soon lay the lofty towers of Priam low, Whose host appall'd, defend them now no more. Haste--succor me--thy channel fill with streams From all thy fountains; call thy torrents down; Lift high the waters; mingle trees and stones With uproar wild, that we may quell the force Of this dread Chief triumphant now, and fill'd With projects that might more beseem a God. But vain shall be his strength, his beauty nought Shall profit him or his resplendent arms, For I will bury them in slime and ooze, And I will overwhelm himself with soil, Sands heaping o'er him and around him sands Infinite, that no Greek shall find his bones For ever, in my bottom deep immersed. There shall his tomb be piled, nor other earth, At his last rites, his friends shall need for him. He said, and lifting high his angry tide Vortiginous, against Achilles hurl'd, Roaring, the foam, the bodies, and the blood; Then all his sable waves divine again Accumulating, bore him swift along. Shriek'd Juno at that sight, terrified lest Achilles in the whirling deluge sunk Should perish, and to Vulcan quick exclaim'd. Vulcan, my son, arise; for we account Xanthus well able to contend with thee. Give instant succor; show forth all thy fires. Myself will haste to call the rapid South And Zephyrus, that tempests from the sea Blowing, thou may'st both arms and dead consume With hideous conflagration. Burn along The banks of Xanthus, fire his trees and him Seize also. Let him by no specious guile Of flattery soothe thee, or by threats appall, Nor slack thy furious fires 'till with a shout I give command, then bid them cease to blaze. She spake, and Vulcan at her word his fires Shot dreadful forth; first, kindling on the field, He burn'd the bodies strew'd numerous around Slain by Achilles; arid grew the earth And the flood ceased. As when a sprightly breeze Autumnal blowing from the North, at once Dries the new-water'd garden,[7] gladdening him Who tills the soil, so was the champain dried; The dead consumed, against the River, next, He turn'd the fierceness of his glittering fires. Willows and tamarisks and elms he burn'd, Burn'd lotus, rushes, reeds; all plants and herbs That clothed profuse the margin of his flood. His eels and fishes, whether wont to dwell In gulfs beneath, or tumble in the stream, All languish'd while the artist of the skies Breath'd on them; even Xanthus lost, himself, All force, and, suppliant, Vulcan thus address'd. Oh Vulcan! none in heaven itself may cope With thee. I yield to thy consuming fires. Cease, cease. I reck not if Achilles drive Her citizens, this moment, forth from Troy, For what are war and war's concerns to me? So spake he scorch'd, and all his waters boil'd. As some huge caldron hisses urged by force Of circling fires and fill'd with melted lard, The unctuous fluid overbubbling[8] streams On all sides, while the dry wood flames beneath, So Xanthus bubbled and his pleasant flood Hiss'd in the fire, nor could he longer flow But check'd his current, with hot steams annoy'd By Vulcan raised. His supplication, then, Importunate to Juno thus he turn'd. Ah Juno! why assails thy son my streams, Hostile to me alone? Of all who aid The Trojans I am surely least to blame, Yet even I desist if thou command; And let thy son cease also; for I swear That never will I from the Trojans turn Their evil day, not even when the host Of Greece shall set all Ilium in a blaze. He said, and by his oath pacified, thus The white-arm'd Deity to Vulcan spake. Peace, glorious son! we may not in behalf Of mortal man thus longer vex a God. Then Vulcan his tremendous fires repress'd, And down into his gulfy channel rush'd The refluent flood; for when the force was once Subdued of Xanthus, Juno interposed, Although incensed, herself to quell the strife. But contest vehement the other Gods Now waged, each breathing discord; loud they rush'd And fierce to battle, while the boundless earth Quaked under them, and, all around, the heavens Sang them together with a trumpet's voice. Jove listening, on the Olympian summit sat Well-pleased, and, in his heart laughing for joy, Beheld the Powers of heaven in battle join'd. Not long aloof they stood. Shield-piercer Mars, His brazen spear grasp'd, and began the fight Rushing on Pallas, whom he thus reproach'd. Wasp! front of impudence, and past all bounds Audacious! Why impellest thou the Gods To fight? Thy own proud spirit is the cause. Remember'st not, how, urged by thee, the son Of Tydeus, Diomede, myself assail'd, When thou, the radiant spear with thy own hand Guiding, didst rend my body? Now, I ween, The hour is come in which I shall exact Vengeance for all thy malice shown to me. So saying, her shield he smote tassell'd around Terrific, proof against the bolts of Jove; That shield gore-tainted Mars with fury smote. But she, retiring, with strong grasp upheaved A rugged stone, black, ponderous, from the plain, A land-mark fixt by men of ancient times, Which hurling at the neck of stormy Mars She smote him. Down he fell. Seven acres, stretch'd, He overspread, his ringlets in the dust Polluted lay, and dreadful rang his arms. The Goddess laugh'd, and thus in accents wing'd With exultation, as he lay, exclaim'd. Fool! Art thou still to learn how far my force Surpasses thine, and darest thou cope with me? Now feel the furies of thy mother's ire Who hates thee for thy treachery to the Greeks, And for thy succor given to faithless Troy. She said, and turn'd from Mars her glorious eyes. But him deep-groaning and his torpid powers Recovering slow, Venus conducted thence Daughter of Jove, whom soon as Juno mark'd, In accents wing'd to Pallas thus she spake. Daughter invincible of glorious Jove! Haste--follow her--Ah shameless! how she leads Gore-tainted Mars through all the host of heaven. So she, whom Pallas with delight obey'd; To Venus swift she flew, and on the breast With such force smote her that of sense bereft The fainting Goddess fell. There Venus lay And Mars extended on the fruitful glebe, And Pallas thus in accents wing'd exclaim'd. I would that all who on the part of Troy Oppose in fight Achaia's valiant sons, Were firm and bold as Venus in defence Of Mars, for whom she dared my power defy! So had dissension (Ilium overthrown And desolated) ceased long since in heaven. So Pallas, and approving Juno smiled. Then the imperial Shaker of the shores Thus to Apollo. Phoebus! wherefore stand We thus aloof? Since others have begun, Begin we also; shame it were to both Should we, no combat waged, ascend again Olympus and the brass-built hall of Jove. Begin, for thou art younger; me, whose years Alike and knowledge thine surpass so far, It suits not. Oh stupidity! how gross Art thou and senseless! Are no traces left In thy remembrance of our numerous wrongs Sustain'd at Ilium, when, of all the Gods Ourselves alone, by Jove's commandment, served For stipulated hire, a year complete, Our task-master the proud Laomedon? Myself a bulwark'd town, spacious, secure Against assault, and beautiful as strong Built for the Trojans, and thine office was To feed for King Laomedon his herds Among the groves of Ida many-valed. But when the gladsome hours the season brought Of payment, then the unjust King of Troy Dismiss'd us of our whole reward amerced By violence, and added threats beside. Thee into distant isles, bound hand and foot, To sell he threatened, and to amputate The ears of both; we, therefore, hasted thence Resenting deep our promised hire withheld. Aid'st thou for this the Trojans? Canst thou less Than seek, with us, to exterminate the whole Perfidious race, wives, children, husbands, all? To whom the King of radiant shafts Apollo. Me, Neptune, thou wouldst deem, thyself, unwise Contending for the sake of mortal men With thee; a wretched race, who like the leaves Now flourish rank, by fruits of earth sustain'd, Now sapless fall. Here, therefore, us between Let all strife cease, far better left to them. He said, and turn'd away, fearing to lift His hand against the brother of his sire. But him Diana of the woods with sharp Rebuke, his huntress sister, thus reproved. Fly'st thou, Apollo! and to Neptune yield'st An unearn'd victory, the prize of fame Resigning patient and with no dispute? Fool! wherefore bearest thou the bow in vain? Ah, let me never in my father's courts Hear thee among the immortals vaunting more That thou wouldst Neptune's self confront in arms. So she, to whom Apollo nought replied.[9] But thus the consort of the Thunderer, fired With wrath, reproved the Archeress of heaven. How hast thou dared, impudent, to oppose My will? Bow-practised as thou art, the task To match my force were difficult to thee. Is it, because by ordinance of Jove Thou art a lioness to womankind, Killing them at thy pleasure? Ah beware-- Far easier is it, on the mountain-heights To slay wild beasts and chase the roving hind, Than to conflict with mightier than ourselves. But, if thou wish a lesson on that theme, Approach--thou shalt be taught with good effect How far my force in combat passes thine. She said, and with her left hand seizing both Diana's wrists, snatch'd suddenly the bow Suspended on her shoulder with the right, And, smiling, smote her with it on the ears. She, writhing oft and struggling, to the ground Shook forth her rapid shafts, then, weeping, fled As to her cavern in some hollow rock The dove, not destined to his talons, flies The hawk's pursuit, and left her arms behind. Then, messenger of heaven, the Argicide Address'd Latona. Combat none with thee, Latona, will I wage. Unsafe it were To cope in battle with a spouse of Jove. Go, therefore, loudly as thou wilt, proclaim To all the Gods that thou hast vanquish'd me. Collecting, then, the bow and arrows fallen In wild disorder on the dusty plain, Latona with the sacred charge withdrew Following her daughter; she, in the abode Brass-built arriving of Olympian Jove, Sat on his knees, weeping till all her robe Ambrosial shook. The mighty Father smiled, And to his bosom straining her, inquired. Daughter beloved! who, which of all the Gods Hath raised his hand, presumptuous, against thee, As if convicted of some open wrong? To whom the clear-voiced Huntress crescent-crown'd. My Father! Juno, thy own consort fair My sorrow caused, from whom dispute and strife Perpetual, threaten the immortal Powers. Thus they in heaven mutual conferr'd. Meantime Apollo into sacred Troy return'd Mindful to guard her bulwarks, lest the Greeks Too soon for Fate should desolate the town. The other Gods, some angry, some elate With victory, the Olympian heights regain'd, And sat beside the Thunderer. But the son Of Peleus--He both Trojans slew and steeds. As when in volumes slow smoke climbs the skies From some great city which the Gods have fired Vindictive, sorrow thence to many ensues With mischief, and to all labor severe, So caused Achilles labor on that day, Severe, and mischief to the men of Troy. But ancient Priam from a sacred tower Stood looking forth, whence soon he noticed vast Achilles, before whom the Trojans fled All courage lost. Descending from the tower With mournful cries and hasting to the wall He thus enjoin'd the keepers of the gates. Hold wide the portals till the flying host Re-enter, for himself is nigh, himself Achilles drives them home. Now, wo to Troy! But soon as safe within the walls received They breathe again, shut fast the ponderous gates At once, lest that destroyer also pass. He said; they, shooting back the bars, threw wide The gates and saved the people, whom to aid Apollo also sprang into the field, They, parch'd with drought and whiten'd all with dust, Flew right toward the town, while, spear in hand, Achilles press'd them, vengeance in his heart And all on fire for glory. Then, full sure, Ilium, the city of lofty gates, had fallen Won by the Grecians, had not Phoebus roused Antenor's valiant son, the noble Chief Agenor; him with dauntless might he fill'd, And shielding him against the stroke of fate Beside him stood himself, by the broad beech Cover'd and wrapt in clouds. Agenor then, Seeing the city-waster hero nigh Achilles, stood, but standing, felt his mind Troubled with doubts; he groan'd, and thus he mused. [10]Alas! if following the tumultuous flight Of these, I shun Achilles, swifter far He soon will lop my ignominious head. But if, these leaving to be thus dispersed Before him, from the city-wall I fly Across the plain of Troy into the groves Of Ida, and in Ida's thickets lurk, I may, at evening, to the town return Bathed and refresh'd. But whither tend my thoughts? Should he my flight into the plain observe And swift pursuing seize me, then, farewell All hope to scape a miserable death, For he hath strength passing the strength of man. How then--shall I withstand him here before The city? He hath also flesh to steel Pervious, within it but a single life, And men report him mortal, howsoe'er Saturnian Jove lift him to glory now. So saying, he turn'd and stood, his dauntless heart Beating for battle. As the pard springs forth To meet the hunter from her gloomy lair, Nor, hearing loud the hounds, fears or retires, But whether from afar or nigh at hand He pierce her first, although transfixt, the fight Still tries, and combats desperate till she fall, So, brave Antenor's son fled not, or shrank, Till he had proved Achilles, but his breast O'ershadowing with his buckler and his spear Aiming well-poised against him, loud exclaim'd. Renown'd Achilles! Thou art high in hope Doubtless, that thou shalt this day overthrow The city of the glorious sons of Troy. Fool! ye must labor yet ere she be won, For numerous are her citizens and bold, And we will guard her for our parents' sake Our wives and little ones. But here thou diest Terrible Chief and dauntless as thou art. He said, and with full force hurling his lance Smote, and err'd not, his greave beneath his knee The glittering tin, forged newly, at the stroke Tremendous rang, but quick recoil'd and vain The weapon, weak against that guard divine. Then sprang Achilles in his turn to assail Godlike Agenor, but Apollo took That glory from him, snatching wrapt in clouds Agenor thence, whom calm he sent away. Then Phoebus from pursuit of Ilium's host By art averted Peleus' son; the form Assuming of Agenor, swift he fled Before him, and Achilles swift pursued. While him Apollo thus lured to the chase Wide o'er the fruitful plain, inclining still Toward Scamander's dizzy stream his course Nor flying far before, but with false hope Always beguiling him, the scatter'd host Meantime, in joyful throngs, regain'd the town. They fill'd and shut it fast, nor dared to wait Each other in the field, or to inquire Who lived and who had fallen, but all, whom flight Had rescued, like a flood pour'd into Troy. * * * * * The Trojans being now within the city, excepting Hector, the field is cleared for the most important and decisive action in the poem; that is, the battle between Achilles and Hector, and the death of the latter. This part of the story is managed with singular skill. It seems as if the poet, feeling the importance of the catastrophe, wished to withdraw from view the personages of less consequence, and to concentrate our attention upon those two alone. The poetic action and description are narrowed in extent, but deepened in interest. The fate of Troy is impending; the irreversible decree of Jupiter is about to be executed; the heroes, whose bravery is to be the instrument of bringing about this consummation, are left together on the plain.--FELTON.