That so a little we may ease our overcharged hands,
Draw some breath, not expire it all. The foe but faintly stands Beneath his labours; and your charge being fierce, and freshly giv'n, They eas❜ly from our tents and fleet may to their walls be driv'n."
This mov'd the good Patroclus' mind; who made his utmost haste T inform his friend; and as the fleet of Ithacus he past,
(At which their markets were dispos'd, councils, and martial courts, And where to th' altars of the Gods they made divine resorts) He met renown'd Eurypylus, Evemon's noble son,
Halting, his thigh hurt with a shaft, the liquid sweat did run
Down from his shoulders and his brows, and from his raging wound
Forth flow'd his melancholy blood, yet still his mind was sound.
His sight in kind Patroclus' breast to sacred pity turn'd,
And (nothing more immartial for true ruth) thus he mourn'd:
"Ah wretched progeny of Greece, princes, dejected kings,
Was it your fates to nourish beasts, and serve the outcast wings
Of savage vultures here in Troy? Tell me, Evemon's fame,
Do yet the Greeks withstand his force, whom yet no force can tame?
Or are they hopeless thrown to death by his resistless lance?"
"Divine Patroclus," he replied, "no more can Greece advance
Defensive weapons, but to fleet they headlong must retire,
For those that to this hour have held our fleet from hostile fire,
And are the bulwarks of our host, lie wounded at their tents,
And Troy's unvanquishable pow'r, still as it toils, augments.
But take me to thy black-stern'd ship, save me, and from my thigh 740
Cut out this arrow, and the blood, that is ingor'd and dry,
Wash with warm water from the wound; then gentle salves apply, Which thou know'st best, thy princely friend hath taught thee surgery, Whom, of all Centaurs the most just, Chiron did institute.
Thus to thy honourable hands my ease I prosecute,
721 As.-Both folios have "at."
129 Nothing more immartial for true ruth-not the worse soldier for feeling true
ELEVENTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ILIADS.
Since our physicians cannot help. Machaon at his tent
Needs a physician himself, being leech and patient;
And Podalirius, in the field, the sharp conflict sustains."
Strong Mencetiades replied: "How shall I ease thy pains?
What shall we do, Eurypylus? I am to use all haste,
To signify to Thetis' son occurrents that have past,
At Nestor's honourable suit. But be that work achiev'd
When this is done, I will not leave thy torments unreliev'd."
This said, athwart his back he cast, beneath his breast, his arm,
And nobly help'd him to his tent. His servants, seeing his harm, 755
Dispread ox-hides upon the earth, whereon Machaon lay.
Patroclus cut out the sharp shaft, and clearly wash'd away
With lukewarm water the black blood; then 'twixt his hands he bruis'd
A sharp and mitigatory root; which when he had infus'd
Into the green, well-cleansed, wound, the pains he felt before
Were well, and instantly allay'd; the wound did bleed no more.
THE END OF THE ELEVENTH BOOK.
MY works the Trojans all the grace,
And doth the Grecian fort deface.
ATROCLUS thus employ'd in cure of hurt Eurypylus,
Both hosts are all for other wounds doubly contentious,
One always labouring to expel, the other to invade.
Nor could the broad dike of the Greeks, nor that strong wall they made
To guard their fleet, be long unrac't; because it was not rais'd By grave direction of the Gods, nor were their Deities prais'd (When they begun) with hecatombs, that then they might be sure (Their strength being season'd well with heav'n's) it should have force
And so, the safeguard of their fleet, and all their treasure there,
Infallibly had been confirm'd; when, now, their bulwarks were
Not only without pow'r of check to their assaulting foe
(Ev'n now, as soon as they were built) but apt to overthrow;
Such as, in very little time, shall bury all their sight
And thought that ever they were made. As long as the despite
Of great acides held up, and Hector went not down,
And that by those two means stood safe king Priam's sacred town,
So long their rampire had some use, though now it gave some way;
But when Troy's best men suffer'd fate, and many Greeks did pay
Dear for their suff'rance, then the rest home to their country turn'd,
The tenth year of their wars at Troy, and Troy was sack'd and burn'd.
And then the Gods fell to their fort; then they their pow'rs employ 21
To ruin their work, and left less of that than they of Troy.
Neptune and Phoebus tumbled down, from the Idalian hills,
An inundation of all floods, that thence the broad sea fills
On their huge rampire; in one glut, all these together roar'd,
Rhesus, Heptaporus, Rhodius, Scamander the ador'd,
Caresus, Simois, Grenicus, sepus; of them all
Apollo open'd the rough mouths, and made their lusty fall
Ravish the dusty champian, where many a helm and shield,
And half-god race of men, were strew'd. And, that all these might yield
Full tribute to the heav'nly work, Neptune and Phœbus won
Jove to unburthen the black wombs of clouds, fill'd by the sun,
And pour them into all their streams, that quickly they might send
The huge wall swimming to the sea. Nine days their lights did spend
To nights in tempests; and when all their utmost depth had made, 33
Jove, Phoebus, Neptune, all came down, and all in state did wade
To ruin of that impious fort. Great Neptune went before,
Wrought with his trident, and the stones, trunks, roots of trees, he tore
Out of the rampire, toss'd them all into the Hellespont,
Ev'n all the proud toil of the Greeks, with which they durst confront 40 29 Champian-champain, level country.
The to-be shunnéd Deities, and not a stone remain'd
Of all their huge foundations, all with the earth were plain'd.
Which done, again the Gods turn'd back the silver-flowing floods By that vast channel, through whose vaults they pour'd abroad their
And cover'd all the ample shore again with dusty sand.
And this the end was of that wall, where now so many a hand
Was emptied of stones and darts, contending to invade ;
Where Clamour spent so high a throat; and where the fell blows made
The new-built wooden turrets groan. And here the Greeks were pent,
Tam'd with the iron whip of Jove, that terrors vehement
Shook over them by Hector's hand, who was in ev'ry thought
The terror-master of the field, and like a whirlwind fought,
As fresh as in his morn's first charge. And as a savage boar,
Or lion, hunted long, at last, with hounds' and hunters' store
Is compass'd round; they charge him close, and stand (as in a tow'r 55
They had inchas'd him) pouring on of darts an iron show'r;
His glorious heart yet nought appall'd, and forcing forth his way,
Here overthrows a troop, and there a running ring doth stay
His utter passage; when, again, that stay he overthrows,
And then the whole field frees his rage; so Hector wearies blows, 60
Runs out his charge upon the fort, and all his force would force
pass the dike; which, being so deep, they could not get their horse To venture on, but trample, snore, and on the very brink
To neigh with spirit, yet still stand off. Nor would a human think
The passage
safe; or, if it were, 'twas less safe for retreat;
The dike being ev'rywhere so deep, and, where 'twas least deep, set
With stakes exceeding thick, sharp, strong, that horse could never pass,
Much less their chariots after them; yet for the foot there was
Some hopeful service, which they wish'd. Polydamas then spake:
'Hector, and all our friends of Troy, we indiscreetly make Offer of passage with our horse; ye see the stakes, the wall,
Impossible for horse to take; nor can men fight at all,
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