High-eminent amid the works divine,
Where heaven's far-beaming brazen mansions shine.
There the lame architect the goddess found,
Obscure in smoke, his forges flaming round,
While bathed in sweat from fire to fire he flew;
And puffing loud, the roaring bellows blew.
That day no common task his labour claim'd:
Full twenty tripods for his hall he framed,
That placed on living wheels of massy gold
(Wondrous to tell) instinct with spirit roll'd
From place to place, around the bless'd abodes,
Self-moved, obedient to the beck of gods:
For their fair handles now, o'erwrought with flowers,
In moulds prepared, the glowing ore he pours.
Just as responsive to his thought the frame,
Stood prompt to move, the azure goddess came:
Charis, his spouse, a Grace divinely fair
(With purple fillets round her braided hair,)
Observed her entering; her soft hand she press'd,
And smiling, thus the watery queen address'd:
What, goddess! this unusual favour draws?
All hail, and welcome! whatsoe'er the cause:
Till now a stranger, in a happy hour
Oh, Vulcan! say, was ever breast divine
So pierced with sorrows, so o'erwhelm'd as mine?
Of all the goddesses, did Jove prepare
For Thetis only such a weight of care?
I, only I, of all the watery race,
By force subjected to a man's embrace,
Who, sinking now with age and sorrow, pays
440 The mighty fine imposed on length of days.
Sprung from my bed, a godlike hero came,
The bravest sure that ever bore the name.
Like some fair plant beneath my careful hand
He grew, he flourish'd, and he graced the land-
To Troy I sent him; but his native shore
Never, ah never, shall receive him more!
(E'en while he lives, he wastes with secret woe;)
Nor I, a goddess, can retard the blow!
Robb'd of the prize the Grecian suffrage gave,
The king of nations forced his royal slave:
For this he grieved: and, till the Greeks oppress'd,
Required his arm, he sorrow'd unredress'd.
Large gifts they promise, and their elders send;
In vain-he arms not, but permits his friend
His arms, his steeds, his forces to employ;
He marches, combats, almost conquers Troy.
Then slain by Phoebus (Hector had the name)
At once resigns his armour, life, and fame.
But thou, in pity, by my prayer be won:
Grace with immortal arms this short-lived son,
And to the field in martial pomp restore,
To shine with glory till he shines no more!
To her the artist god: Thy griefs resign,
Secure, what Vulcan can, is ever thine.
O could I hide him from the Fates as well,
Or with these hands the cruel stroke repel,
As I shall forge most envied arms, the gaze
Of wondering ages, and the world's amaze!
Thus having said, the father of the fires
470 To the black labours of his forge retires.
Approach, and taste the dainties of the bower.
High on a throne, with stars of silver graced,
And various artifice, the queen she placed;
A footstool at her feet; then, calling, said,
Vulcan, draw near; 'tis Thetis asks your aid.
Thetis (replied the god) our powers may claim,
An ever-dear, an ever-honour'd name!
When my proud mother hurl'd me from the sky
(My awkward form, it seems, displeased her eye,)
She and Eurynomè my griefs redress'd,
And soft received me on their silver breast.
E'en then, these arts employ'd my infant thought;
Chains, bracelets, pendants, all their toys I wrought.
Nine years kept secret in the dark abode,
Secure I lay conceal'd from man and god :
Deep in a cavern'd rock my days were led;
The rushing ocean murmur'd o'er my head.
Now since her presence glads our mansion, say,
For such desert what service can I pay?
Vouchsafe, O Thetis! at our board to share
The genial rites and hospitable fare;
While I the labours of the forge forego,
And bid the roaring bellows cease to blow.
Then from his anvil the lame artist rose;
Wide with distorted legs oblique he
goes
And stills the bellows, and (in order laid)
Locks in their chests his instruments of trade.
Then with a sponge the sooty workman dress'd
His brawny arms imbrown'd and hairy breast.
With his huge sceptre graced and red attire,
Came halting forth the sovereign of the fire:
The monarch's steps two female forms uphold,
That moved and breathed in animated gold:
To whom was voice, and sense, and science given
Of works divine (such wonders are in heaven!) 490
On these supported, with unequal gait,
He reach'd the throne where pensive Thetis sate;
There placed beside her on the shining frame,
He thus address'd the silver footed dame:
Thee, welcome, goddess! what occasion calls
(So long a stranger) to these honour'd walls?
Tis thine, fair Thetis, the command to lay,
And Vulcan's joy and duty to obey.
To whom the mournful mother thus replies
Soon as he bade them blow, the bellows turn'd
Their iron mouths; and where the furnace burn'd,
Resounding breath'd: at once the blast expires, 541
And twenty forges catch at once the fires;
Just as the god directs, now loud, now low,
They raise a tempest, or they gently blow.
In hissing flames huge silver bars are roll'd,
And stubborn brass, and tin, and solid gold:
Before, deep fix'd, the eternal anvils stand;
480 The ponderous hammer loads his better hand,
His left with tongs turns the vex'd metal round,
And thick, strong strokes, the doubling vaults rebound.
Then first he form'd the immense and solid shield:
Rich various artifice emblazed the field;
Its utmost verge a threefold circle bound;
A silver chain suspends the massy round;
Five ample plates the broad expanse compose,
And godlike labours on the surface rose.
There shone the image of the master-mind:
There earth, there heaven, there ocean he design'd;
The unwearied sun, the moon completely round; 560
The starry lights that heaven's high convex crown'e;
The Pleiads, Hyads, with the Northern Team;
And great Orion's more refulgent beam;
To which, around the axle of the sky,
The Bear revolving points his golden eye,
Still shines exalted on the ethereal plain,
Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main.
Two cities radiant on the shield appear,
The crystal drops stood trembling in her eyes :) 500, The image one of peace, and one of war.
Here sacred pomp and genial feast delight,
And solemn dance, and Hymeneal rite;
Along the street the new-made brides are led,
With torches flaming, to the nuptial bed
The youthful dancers, in a circle bound,
To the soft flute and cittern's silver sound:
Through the fair streets, the matrons in a row
Stand in their porches, and enjoy the show.
Here stretch'd in ranks the levell'd swarths are found,
Sheaves heap'd on sheaves here thicken up the ground.
With sweeping stroke the mowers strew the lands;
The gatherers follow, and collect in bands;
And last the children, in whose arms are borne
(Too short to gripe them) the brown sheaves of corn
The rustic monarch of the field descries,
With silent glee, the heaps around him rise.
A ready banquet on the turf is laid,
580 Beneath an ample oak's expanded shade.
The victim ox the sturdy youth prepare;
The reaper's due repast, the women's care.
Next, ripe in yellow gold, a vineyard shines,
Bent with the pondrous harvest of its vines;
A deeper dye the dangling clusters show,
And curl'd on silver props, in order glow:
A darker metal mix'd, intrench'd the place:
And pales of glittering tin the enclosure grace.
To this, one path-way gently winding leads,
590 Where march a train with baskets on their heads
(Fair maids, and blooming youths,) that smiling bear
The purple product of the autumnal year.
To these a youth awakes the warbling strings,
Whose tender lay the fate of Linus sings;
In measured dance behind him move the train,
Tune soft the voice, and answer to the strain.
There, in the forum swarm a numerous train,
The subject of debate a townsman slain :
One pleads the fine discharged, which one denied,
And bade the public and the law decide:
The witness is produced on either hand:
For this or that, the partial people stand:
The appointed heralds still the noisy bands,
And form a ring with sceptres in their hands:
On seats of stone within the sacred place,
The reverend elders nodded o'er the case;
Alternate, each the attesting sceptre took,
And, rising solemn, each his sentence spoke.
Two golden talents lay amidst, in sight,
The prize of him who best adjudged the right.
Another part (a prospect differing far)
Glow'd with refulgent arms and horrid war.
Two mighty hosts a leaguer'd town embrace,
And one would pillage, one would burn the place.
Meantime the townsmen, arm'd with silent care,
A secret ambush on the foe prepare:
Their wives, their children, and the watchful band
Of trembling parents, on the turrets stand.
They march: by Pallas and by Mars made bold:
Gold were the gods, their radiant garments gold, 600
And gold their armour: these the squadron led,
August, divine, superior by the head!
A place for ambush fit they found, and stood
Cover'd with shields, beside a silver flood.
Two spies at distance lurk, and watchful seem
If sheep or oxen seek the winding stream.
Soon the white flocks proceeded o'er the plains,
And steers slow moving, and two shepherd swains;
Behind them, piping on their reeds, they go,
Nor fear an ambush nor suspect a foe.
In arms the glittering squadron rising round,
Rash sudden! hills of slaughter heap the ground,
Whole flocks and herds lie bleeding on the plains,
And, all amidst them, dead, the shepherd swains!
The bellowing oxen the besiegers hear;
Here, herds of oxen march, erect and bold,
Rear high their horns, and seem to low in gold,
And speed to meadows, on whose sounding shores
A rapid torrent through the rushes roars:
Four golden herdsmen as their guardians stand,
And nine sour dogs complete the rustic band.
Two lions rushing from the wood appear'd,
And seized a bull, the master of the herd:
He roar'd in vain the dogs, the men withstood;
They tore his flesh, and drank the sable blood.
The dogs (oft cheer'd in vain) desert the prey,
Dread the grim terrors, and at distance bay.
Next this, the eye the art of Vulcan leads
610 Deep through fair forests and a length of meads⚫
And stalls, and folds, and scatter'd cots between;
And fleecy flocks, that whiten all the scene.
A figured dance succeeds; such once was seen
In lofty Gnossus; for the Cretan queen,
Form'd by Dædalean art; a comely band
Of youths and maidens, bounding hand in hand:
The maids in soft cymars of linen dress'd;
The youths all graceful in the glossy vest:
Of those the locks with flowery wreaths enroll'd;
Of these the sides adorn'd with swords of gold,
That, glittering gay, from silver belts depend.
Now all at once they rise, at once descend
With well-taught feet: now shape, in oblique ways,
Confusedly regular, the moving maze:
Now forth at once, too swift for sight, they spring,
And undistinguish d blend the flying ring:
So whirls a wheel, in giddy circle toss'd,
And rapid as it runs, the single spokes are lost,
The gazing multitudes admire around:
They rise, take horse, approach, and meet the war;
They fight, they fall, beside the silver flood;
The waving silver seem'd to blush with blood.
There tumult, there contention, stood confess'd;
One rear'd a dagger at a captive's breast,
One held a living foe, that freshly bled
With new-made wounds; another dragg'd a dead;
Now here, now there, the carcasses they tore;
Fate stalk'd amidst them, grim with human gore;
And the whole war came out, and met the eye;
And each bold figure seem'd to live or die.
630 Two active tumblers in the centre bound;
Now high, now low, their pliant limbs they bend,
And general songs the sprightly revel end.
A field deep-furrow'd next the god design'd,
The third time labour'd by the sweating hind;
The shining shares full many ploughmen guide,
And turn their crooked yokes on every side.
Still as at either end they wheel around,
The master meets them with his goblet crown'd;
The hearty draught rewards, renews their toil,
Then back the turning plough-shares cleave the soil:
Cehind, the rising earth in ridges roll'd:
And sable look'd, though form'd of molten gold.
Thus the broad shield complete the artist crown'd
With his last hand, and pour'd the ocean round:
In living silver seem'd the waves to roll,
And beat the buckler's verge, and bound the whole
This done, whate'er a warrior's use requires,
He forged-the cass that outshone the fires,
The greaves of ductile tin, the helm impress'd
With various sculpture, and the golden crest.
At Thetis' feet the finish'd Labour lay;
She, as a fileon, cuts the aerial way,
Swift from Olympus' snowy summit flies,
And bears the blazing present through the skies.
Whole years untouch'd, uninjured, shall remain,
Fresh as in life, the carcass of the slain.
But go, Achilles as affairs require;
Before the Grecian peers renounce thine ire; Then uncontroll'd in boundless war engage, 710 And Heaven with strength supply the in ghty rage. Then in the nostrils of the slain she pour'd Nectareous drops, and rich ambrosia shower'd O'er all the corse. The flies forbid their prey, Untouch'd it rests, and sacred from decay. Achilles to the strand obedient went; The shores resounded with the voice he sent. The heroes heard, and all the naval train That tend the ships, or guide them o'er the main, Alarm'd, transported at the well-known sound, Frequent and full the great assembly crown'd; Studious to see that terror of the plain, Long lost to battle, shine in arms again. Tydides and Ulysses first appear, monies on that occasion. Achilles is with great diff Lame with their wounds, and leaning on the spear. culty persuaded to refrain from the battle till the These on the sacred seats of council placed, troops have refreshed themselves, by the advice of The king of men, Atrides, came the last : Ulysses. The presents are conveyed to the tent of He too sore wounded by Agenor's son. Achilles: where Briseis laments over the body of Pa- Achilles, rising in the midst, begun: troclus. The hero obstinately refuses all repast, and Oh monarch! better far had been the fate gives himself up to lamentations for his friend. Mi- Of thee, of me, of all the Grecian state, nerva descends to strengthen him, by the order of Ju- If ere the day when, by mad passion sway'd, piter. He arms for the fight: his appearance described.)
The Reconciliation of Achilles and Agamemnon. Thetis brings to her son the armour made by Vulcan. She preserves the body of his friend from corruption, and commands him to assemble the army, to declare his
resentment at an end. Agamemnon and Achilles are! solemnly reconciled: the specches, presents, and cere
He addresses himself to his horses, and reproaches Rash we contended for the black-eyed maid,) them with the death of Patroclus. One of them is mi- Preventing Dian had despatch'd her dart, raculously endued with voice, and inspired to prophesy And shot the shining mischief to the heart: his fate; but the hero, not astonished at that prodigy, Then many a hero had not press'd the shore, rushes with fury to the combat.
The thirtieth day. The scene is on the sea-shore.
Soon as Aurora heaved her orient head
Above the waves that blush'd with early red,
(With new-born day to gladden mortal sight,
And gild the courts of heaven with sacred light,)
The immortal arms the goddess-mother bears
Swift to her son: her son she finds in tears
Stretch'd o'er Patroclus' corse; while all the rest
Their sovereign's sorrow in their own express'd.
A ray divine her heavenly presence shed,
And thus, his hand soft-touching, Thetis said:
Suppress (my son) this rage of grief, and know
It was not man, but Heaven, that gave the blow;
Behold what arms by Vulcan are bestow'd,
Arms worthy thee, or fit to grace a god.
Then drops the radiant burden on the ground;
Clang the strong arms, and ring the shores around:
Back shrink the Myrmidons with dread surprise,
And from the broad effulgence turn their eyes.
Unmoved, the hero kindles at the show,
And feels with rage divine his bosom glow;
From his fierce eye-balls living flames expire,
And flash incessant like a stream of fire:
He turns the radiant gift, and feeds his mind
On all the immortal artist had design'd.
Nor Troy's glad fields been fatten'd with our gore:
Long, long shall Greece the woes we caused bewail,
And sad posterity repeat the tale.
But this, no more the subject of debate,
Is past, forgotten, and resign'd to fate.
Why should (alas!) a mortal man, as I,
Burn with a fury that can never die?
Here then my anger ends: let war succeed,
And e'en as Greece has bled, let lion bleed.
Now call the hosts, and try if in our sight
Troy yet shall dare to camp a second night:
I deem their mightiest, when this arm he knows,
Shall 'scape with transport, and with joy repose.
He said: his finish'd wrath with loud acclaim
10 The Greeks accept, and shout Pelides' name.
When thus, not rising from his lofty throne,
In state unmoved, the king of men begun :
Hear me, ye sons of Greece! with silence hear!
And grant your monarch an impartial ear;
Awhile your loud, untimely joy suspend,
And let your rash, injurious clamours end:
Unruly murmurs, or ill-timed applause,
Wrong the best speaker, and the justest cause.
Nor charge on me, ye Greeks, the dire debate:
20 Know, angry Jove, and all-compelling Fate,
With fell Erinnys, urged my wrath that day
When from Achilles' arms I forced the prey.
What then could I, against the will of Heaven?
Not by myself, but vengeful Atè driven;
Goddess! (he cried) these glorious arms that shine She, Jove's dread daughter, fated to infest
With matchless art, confess the hand divine.
Now to the bloody battle let me bend;
But ah! the relics of my slaughter'd friend!
In those wide wounds through which his spirit fled,
Shall flies and worms obscene pollute the dead?
That unavailing care be laid aside,
The azure goddess to her son replied ;)
The race of mortals, enter'd in my breast.
Not on the ground that haughty Fury treads,
But prints her lofty footsteps on the heads
Of mighty men! inflicting as she goes
Long-festering wounds, inextricable woes!
Of old, she stalk'd amid the bright abodes;
And Jove himself, the sire of men and gods,
The world's great ruler, felt her venom'd dart;
Deceived by Juno's wiles, and female art.
For when Alcmena's nine long months were run,
And Jove expected his immortal son,
To gods and goddesses the unruly joy
He show'd, and vaunted of his matchless boy:
From us (he said) this day an infant springs,
Fated to rule, and born a king of kings.
Saturnia ask'd an oath, to vouch the truth,
And fix dominion on the favour'd youth.
The Thunderer, unsuspicious of the fraud,
Pronounced those solemn words that bind a god.
The joyful goddess from Olympus' height,
Swift to Achaian Argos bent her flight;
Scarce seven moons gone, lay Sthenelus's wife;
She push'd her lingering infant into life:
Her charms Alcmena's coming labours stay,
And stop the babe just issuing to the day:
Then bids Saturnius bear his oath in mind:
'A youth (says she) of Jove's immortal kind,
Is this day born; from Sthenelus he springs,
And claims thy promise to be king of kings.'
Grief seized the Thunderer, by his oath engaged;
Stung to the soul, he sorrow'd and he raged.
From his ambrosial head, where perch'd she sat,
He snatch'd the fury-goddess of debate,
The dread, the irrevocable oath he swore,
The immortal seats should ne'er behold her more;
And whirl'd her headlong down, for ever driven
From bright Olympus and the starry heaven :
Thence on the nether world the Fury fell;
Ordain'd with man's contentious race to dwell.
Full oft the god his son's hard toils bemoan'd,
Cursed the dire Fury, and in secret groan'd.
E'en thus, like Jove himself was I misled,
While raging Hector heap'd our camps with dead.
What can the errors of my rage atone?
My martial troops, my treasures are thy own:
This instant from the navy shall be sent
Whate'er Ulysses promised at thy tent:
But thou appeased, propitious to our prayer,
Resume thy arms, and shine again in war.
O king of nations! whose superior sway
(Returns Achilles) all our host obey!
To keep or send the presents be thy care;
To us 'tis equal: all we ask is war.
While yet we talk, or but an instant shun
The fight, our glorious work remains undone.
Let every Greek who sees my spear confound
The Trojan ranks, and deal destruction round,
With emulation, what I act survey,
Dismiss the people then, and give command
With strong repast to hearten every band;
But let the presents to Achilles made,
In full assembly of all Greece be laid:
The king of men shall rise in public sight,
And solemn swear (observant of the rite,)
That spotless as she came, the maid removes,
Pure from his arms, and guiltless of his loves.
That done, a sumptuous banquet shall be made,
110 And the full price of injured honour paid.
Stretch not henceforth, O prince! thy sovereign might
Beyond the bound of reason and of right;
180
'Tis the chief praise that e'er to kings belong'd,
To right with justice whom with power they wrong'd.
To him the monarch: Just is thy decree,
Thy words give joy, and wisdom breathes in thee.
Each due atonement gladly I prepare;
And Heaven regard me as I justly swear.
Here then awhile let Greece assembled stay,
120 Nor great Achilles grudge this short delay;
Till from the flect our presents be convey'd,
And, Jove attesting, the firm compact made.
A train of noble youth the charge shall bear ;
These to select, Ulysses, be thy care:
In order rank'd let all our gifts appear,
And the fair train of captives close the rear:
Talthybius shall the victim boar convey,
Sacred to Jove, and yon bright orb of day.
For this (the stern acides replies,)
Some less important season may suffice,
When the stern fury of the war is o'er,
And wrath extinguish'd burns my breast no more. 200
By Hector slain, their faces to the sky,
All grim with gaping wounds our heroes lie:
Those call to war! and might my voice incite,
Now, now, this instant, should commence the fight:
Then, when the day's complete, let generous bowls,
And copious banquets, glad our weary souls.
Let not my palate know the taste of food,
140 Till my insatiate rage be cloy'd with blood:
Pale lies my friend with wounds disfigured o'er,
And his cold feet are pointed to the door.
Revenge is all my soul! no meaner care,
Interest, or thought, has room to harbour there;
Destruction be my feast, and mortal wounds,
And scenes of blood, and agonizing sounds.
O first of Greeks! (Ulysses thus rejoin'd,)
The best and bravest of the warrior kind!
Thy praise it is in dreadful camps to shine,
150 But old experience and calm wisdom mine.
Then hear my counsel, and to reason yield:
The bravest soon are satiate of the field;
Though vast the heaps that strew the crimson plain,
The bloody harvest brings but little gain:
The scale of conquest ever waving lies,
Great Jove but turns it, and the victor dies!
The great, the bold, by thousands daily fall,
And endless were the grief to weep for all.
Eternal sorrows what avails to shed?
Greece honours not with solemn feasts the dead.
Enough when death demands the brave to pay
The tribute of a melancholy day,
One chief with patience to the grave resign'd,
One care devolves on others left behind.
Let generous food supplies of strength produce,
Let rising spirits flow from sprightly juice,
Let their warm heads with scenes of battle glow
And pour new furies on the feebler foe.
And learn from thence the business of the day.
The son of Peleus thus: and thus replies,
The great in councils, Ithacus the wise.
Though, godlike, thou art by no toils oppress',
At least our armies claim repast and rest.
Long and laborious must the combat be,
When by the gods inspired, and led by thee.
Strength is derived from spirits and from blood,
And those augment by generous wine and food:
What boastful son of war, without that stay,
Can last a hero through a single day?
Courage may prompt; but, ebbing out his strength,
Mere unsupported man must yield at length;
Shrunk with dry famine, and with toils declined,
The drooping body will desert the mind:
But built anew with strength-conferring fare,
With limbs and soul untamed he tires a war.
Yet a short interval and none shall dare
Expect a second summons to the war.
Who waits for that the dire effect shall find,
If trembling in the ships he lags behind.
Embodied, to the battle let us bend,
And all at once on haughty Troy descend.
And now the delegates Ulysses sent,
To bear the presents from the royal tent.
The sons of Nestor, Phyleus' valiant heir,
Thias and Merion, thunderbolts of war,
With Lycomedes of Creontian strain,
And Melanippus, form'd the chosen train.
Swift as the word was given the youths obey'd;
Twise ten bright vases in the midst they laid;
A row of six fair tripods then succeeds;
And twice the number of high bounding steeds;
Seven captives next a lovely line compose;
The eighth Briseis, like the blooming rose,
Closed the bright band: great Ithacus before,
First of the train, the golden talents bore:
The rest in public view the chiefs dispose,
A splendid scene! Then Agamemnon rose:
The boar Talthybius held: the Grecian lord
Drew the broad cutlass sheath'd beside his sword:
The stubborn bristles from the victim's brow
He crops, and offering meditates his vow.
His hands uplifted to the attested skies,
I left thee fresh in life, in beauty gay!
Now find thee cold, inanimated clay!
What woes my wretched race of life attend!
240 Sorrows on sorrows, never doom'd to end.
The first loved consort of my virgin bed
Before these eyes in fatal battle bled!
My three brave brothers in one mournful day,
All trod the dark irremeable way;
On heaven's broad marble roof were fix'd his eyes;
The solemn words a deep attention draw,
And Greece around sat thrill'd with sacred awe.
Witness, thou first! thou greatest power above!
All good, all wise, and all-surveying Jove!
And Mother-earth, and Heaven's revolving light,
And ye, fell Furies of the realms of night,
Who rule the dead, and horrid woes prepare
For perjured kings, and all who falsely swear!
The black-eyed maid inviolate removes,
Pure and unconscious of my manly loves.
If this be false, Heaven all its vengeance shed,.
And levell'd thunder strike my guilty head.
With that his weapon deep inflicts the wound;
The bleeding savage tumbles to the ground;
The sacred herald rolls the victim slain
(A feast for fish) into the foaming main.
Then thus Achilles: Hear, ye Greeks! and know
Whate'er we feel, 'tis Jove inflicts the woe;
Not else Atrides could our rage inflame,
Nor from my arms unwilling force the dame.
'Twas Jove's high will alone o'er-ruling all,
Thy friendly hand uprear'd me from the plain,
And dried my sorrows for a husband slain;
Achilles' care you promised I should prove,
The first the dearest partner of his love!
That rites divine should ratify the band,
And make me empress in his native land.
Accept these grateful tears! for thee they flow,
For thee that ever felt another's woe!
Her sister captives echo'd groan for groan,
Nor mourn'd Patroclus' fortunes, but their own.
The leaders press'd the chief on every side,
Unmoved he heard them, and with sighs denied.
If yet Achilles have a friend, whose care
Is bent to please him, this request forbear:
Till yonder sun descend, ah let me pay
To grief and anguish one abstemious day.
He spoke, and from the warriors turn'd his
face:
Yet still the brother-kings of Atreus' race,
Nestor, Idomeneus, Ulysses sage,
And Phoenix, strive to calm his grief and rage:
His rage they calm not, nor his grief controul;
He groans, he raves; he sorrows from his soul.
Thou too, Patroclus! (thus his heart he vents)
Once spread the inviting banquet in our tents:
Thy sweet society, thy winning care,
Once staid Achilles rushing to the war.
But now,
alas! to death's cold arms resign'd,
What banquet but revenge can glad my mind? 340
What greater sorrow could afflict my breast,
What more if hoary Peleus were deceased:
Who now, perhaps, in Phthia dreads to hear
His son's sad fate, and drops a tender tear?
What more should Neoptolemus the brave
(My only offspring) sink into the grave.
If yet that offspring lives (I distant far,
Of all neglectful, wage a hateful war.)
I could not this, this cruel stroke attend;
Fate claim'd Achilles, but might spare his friend. 350
I hoped Patroclus might survive, to rear
My tender orphan with a parent's care,
That doom'd our strife, and doom'd the Greeks to fall. From Scyros' isle conduct him o'er the main,
Go then, ye chiefs! indulge the genial rite,
Achilles waits you, and expects the fight.
And glad his eyes with his paternal reign,
The lofty palace, and the large domain.
For Peleus breathes no more the vital air;
290 Or drags a wretched life of age and care
The speedy council at his word adjourn'd:
To their black vessels all the Greeks return'd;
Achilles sought his tent. His train before
March'd onward, bending with the gifts they bore.
These in the tents the squires industrious spread:
The foaming coursers to the stalls they led;
To their new seats the female captives move:
Briseïs, radiant as the queen of love,
Slow as she pass'd beheld with sad survey
Where, gash'd with cruel wounds, Patroclus lay.
Prone on the body fell the heavenly fair,
Beat her sad breast, and tore her golden hair;
All-beautiful in grief, her humid eyes
Shining with tears she lifts, and thus she cries:
Ah, youth for ever dear, for ever kind,
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But till the news of my sad fate invades
His hastening soul, and sinks him to the shades.
Sighing he said: his grief the heroes join'd, 360
Each stole a tear for what he left behind.
Their mingled grief the sire of heaven survey'd,
And thus with pity to his blue-eyed maid:
Is then Achilles now no more thy care
And dost thou thus desert the great in war?
Lo, where yon sails their canvass wings extend,
300 All-comfortless he sits, and wails his friend:
Ere thirst and want his forces have oppress'd,
Haste and infuse ambrosia in his breast.
He spoke and sudden at the word of Jove, 370
Shot the descending goddess from above.
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