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No camps, no bulwarks now the Trojans fear,
Those are not dreadful, no Achilles there;
No longer flames the lance of Tydeus' son;
No more your general calls his heroes on:
Hector, alone, I hear; his dreadful breath
Commands your slaughter, or proclaims your death.
Yet now, Patroclus, issue to the plain :
Now save the ships, the rising fires restrain,
And give the Greeks to visit Greece again.
But heed my words, and mark a friend's command,
Who trusts his fame and honors in thy hand,
And from thy deeds expects the Achaian host
Shall render back the beauteous maid he lost:
Rage uncontroll'd through all the hostile crew,
But touch not Hector, Hector is my

due.
Though Jove in thunder should command the war,
Be just, consult my glory, and forbear.
The fleet once saved, desist from further chase,
Nor lead to Ilion's walls the Grecian race ;
Some adverse god thy rashness may destroy ;
Some god, like Phoebus, ever kind to Troy.
Let Greece, redeem'd from this destructive strait,
Do her own work; and leave the rest to fate.
O ! would to all the immortal powers above,
Apollo, Pallas, and almighty Jove,
That not one Trojan might be left alive,
And not a Greek of all the race survive :
Might only we the vast destruction shun,
And only we destroy the accursed town!"
Such conference held the chiefs ; while on the strand
Great Jove with conquest crown'd the Trojan band.
Ajax no more the sounding storm sustain'd,
Só thick the darts an iron tempest rain'd :
On his tired arm the weighty buckler hung;
His hollow helm with falling javelins rung;
His breath, in quick short pantings, comes and goes :
And painful sweat from all his members flows.
Spent and o’erpower’d, he barely breathes at most:
Yet scarce an army stirs him from his post;
Dangers on dangers all around him glow,
And toil to toil, and woe succeeds to woe.

Say, Muses, throned above the starry frame,
How first the navy blazed with Trojan flame ?

Stern Hector waved his sword, and standing near,
Where furious Ajax plied his ashen spear,
Full on the lance a stroke so justly sped,
That the broad falchion lopp'd its trazen head;

His pointless spear the warrior shakes in vain;
The brazen head falls sounding on the plain.
Great Ajax saw, and own'd the hand divine;
Confessing Jove, and trembling at the sign,
Warn’d he retreats. Then swift from all sides pour
The hissing brands; thick streams the fiery shower ;
O'er the high stern the curling volumes rise,
And sheets of rolling smoke involve the skies.

Divine Achilles view'd the rising flames,
And smote his thigh, and thus aloud exclaims :
“ Arm, arm, Patroclus ! Lo, the blaze aspires !
The glowing ocean reddens with the fires.
Arm, ere our vessels catch the spreading flame;
Arm, ere the Grecians be no more a name;
I haste to bring the troops.”—The hero said ;
The friend with ardor and with joy obey'd.

He cased his limbs in brass ; and first around
His manly legs, with silver buckles bound
The clasping greaves; then to his breast applies
The flaming cuirass of a thousand dyes ;
Emblazed with studs of gold his falchiun shone
In the rich belt, as in a starry zone :
Achilles' shield his ample shoulders spread
Achilles' helmet nodded o'er his head :
Adorn'd in all his terrible array,
He flash'd around intolerable day.
Alone untouch’d, Pelidez' javelin stands,
Not to be poised but by Pelides' hands :
From Pelion's shady brow the plant entire
Old Chiron rent, and shaped it for his sire ;
Whose son’s great arm alone the weapon wields,
The death of heroes, and the dread of fields.

The brave Automedon (an honor'd name,
The second to his lord in love and fame,
In peace his friend, and partner of che war)
The winged coursers harness'd to the car;
Xanthus and Balius, of immortal breed,
Sprung from the wind, and like the wind in speed.
Whom the wing'd harpy, swift Podarge, bore,
By Zephyr pregnant on the breezy shore :
Swift Pedasus was added to their side,
(Once great Aëtion's, now Achilles' pride)
Who, like in strength, in swiftness, and in grace,
A mortal courser match'd the immortal race.

Achilles speeds from tent to tent, and warms
His hardy Myrmidons to blood and arms
All breathing death, around the chief they stand,

A grim, terrific, formidable band :
Grim as voracious wolves, that seek the springs*
When scalding thirst their burning bowels wrings ,
When some tall stag, fresh-slaughtered in the wood,
Has drench'd their wide insatiate throats with blood,
To the black fount they rush, a hideous throng,
With paunch distended, and with lolling tongue,
Fire fills their eye, their black jaws belch the gore,
And gorged with slaughter still they thirst for more.
Like furious, rush'd the Myrmidonían crew,
Such their dread strength, and such their deathful view

High in the midst the great Achilles stands,
Directs their order, and the war commands.
He, loved of Jove, had launch'd for Illon's shores
Full fifty vessels, mann'd with fifty oars :
Five chosen leaders the fierce bands obey,
Himself supreme in valor, as in sway.

First march'd Menestheus, of celestial birth,
Derived from thee, whose waters wash the carth,
Divine Sperchius ! Jove-descended flood !
A mortal mother mixing with a god.
Such was Menestheus, but miscall’d by fame
The son of Borus, that espoused the dame.

Eudorus next; whom Polymele the gay,
Famed in the graceful dance, produced to-day.
Her, sly Cellenius loved: on her would gaze,
As with swift step she form'd the running maze:
To her high chamber from Diana's quire,
The god pursued her, urged, and crown'd his fire.
The son confess'd his father's heavenly race,
And heir'd his mother's swiftness in the chase.
Strong Echecleüs, bless'd in all those charms
That pleased a god, succeeded to her arms;
Not conscious of those loves, long hid from fame,
With gifts of price he sought and won the dame;
Her secret offspring to her sire she bare ;
Her sirz caress'd him with a parent's care.

Pisander follow'd ; matchless in his art
To wing the spear, or aim the distant dart;
No hand so sure of all the Emathian line,
Or if a surer, great Patroclus ! thine.

The fourth by Phænix' grave command was graced,
Laerces' valiant offspring led the last.

" As hungry wolves with raging appetite,

Scour through the fields, ne'er fear the stormy night--
Their whelps at home expect the promised food,
And long to temper their dry chaps in blood--
So rush'd we forth at once."-Dryden's Virgil, ii. 479.

Soon as Achilles with superior care Had call'd the chiefs, and order'd all the war, This stern remembrance to his troops he gave : “ Ye far famed Myrmidons, ye fierce and brave ! Think with what threats you dared the Trojan throng, Think what reproach these ears endured so long; Stern son of Peleus (thus ye used to say, While restless, raging, in your ships you lay) Oh nursed with gall, unknowing how to yield; Whose rage defrauds us of so famed a field : If that dire fury must forever burn, What make we here? Return, ye chiefs, return !' Such were your words—Now, warriors ! grieve no more. Lo there the Trojans; bathe your swords in gore ! This day shall give you all your soul demands, Glut all your hearts, and weary all your hands !”

Thus while he roused the fire in every breast,
Close and more close the listening cohorts press’d;
Ranks wedged in ranks; of arms a steely ring
Still grows, and spreads, and thickens round the king.
As when a circling wall the builder forms,
Of strength defensive against wind and storms,
Compacted stones the thickening work compose,
And round him wide the rising structure grows:
So helm to helm, and crest to crest they throng,
Shield urged on shield, and man drove man along;
Thick, undistinguish'd plumes, together join'd,
Float in one sea, and wave before the wind.

Far o'er the rest in glittering pomp appear,
There bold Automedon, Patroclus here;
Brothers in arms, with equal fury fired;
Two friends, two bodies with one soul inspired.

But mindful of the gods, Achilles went
To the rich coffer in his shady tent;
There lay on heaps his various garments roll’d,
And costly furs, and carpets stiff with gold
(The presents of the silver-footed dame),
From thence he took a bowl, of antique frame,
Which never man had stained with ruddy wine,
Nor raised in offerings to the power divine,
But Peleus' son; and Peleus' sun to none
Had raised in offerings, but to Jove alone.
This tinged with sulphur, sacred first to flame,
He purged; and wash'd it in the running stream.
Then cleansed his hands; and fixing for a space
His eyes on heaven, his feet upon the place
Of sacrifice, the purple draught he pour'd

Forth in the midst; and thus the god implored:

“O thou supreme! high-throned all height above ! O great Pelasgic, Dodonæan Jove ! Who 'midst surrounding frosts, and vapors chill, Presid'st on bleak Dodona's vocal hill (Whose groves the Selli, race austere! surround, Their feet unwash'd, their slumbers on the ground; Who hear, from rustling oaks, thy dark decrees; And catch the fates, low-whispered in the breeze); Hear, as of old! Thou gav'st at Thetis' prayer, Glory to me, and to the Greeks despair. Lo, to the dangers of the fighting field The best, the dearest of my friends, I yield, Though still determined, to my ships confined; Patroclus gone, I stay but half behind. Oh! be his guard thy providential care, Confirm his heart, and string his arm to war: Press'd by his single force let Hector see His fame in arms not owing all to me. But when the fleets are saved from foes and fire, Let him with conquest and renown retire ; Preserve his arms, preserve his social train, And safe return him to these eyes again!”

Great Jove consents to half the chiel's request,
But heaven's eternal doom denies the rest;
To free the fleet was granted to his prayer;
His safe return, the winds dispersed in air.
Back to his tent the stern Achilles flies,
And waits the combat with impatient eyes.

Meanwhile the troops beneath Patroclus' care,
Invade the Trojans, and commence the war.
As wasps, provoked by children in their play,
:'our from their mansions by the broad highway,
In swarms the guiltless traveller engage,
Whet all their stings, and call forth all their rage:
All rise in arms, and, with a general cry,
Assert their waxen domes, and buzzing progeny,
Thus from the tents the fervent legion swarms,
So loud their clamors, and so keen their arms:
Their rising rage Patroclus' breath inspires,
Who thus inflames them with heroic fires :

“O warriors, partners of Achilles' praise !
Be mindful of your deeds in ancient days;
Your godlike master let your acts proclaim,
And add new glories to his mighty name.
Think your Achilles sees you fight: be brave,
And humble the proud monarch whom you save.”

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