Excessive spirit, urged them to thc course;
From their high manes they shake the dust, and bear
The kindling chariot through the parted war:
So flies a vulture through the clamorous train
Of geese, that scream, and scatter round the plain.
From danger now with swiftest speed they few,
And now to conquest with like speed pursue ;
Sole in the seat the charioteer remains,
Now plies the javelin, now directs the reins :
Him brave Alcimedon beheld distress'd,
Approach'd the chariot, and the chief address'd:

What god provokes thee rashly thus to dare,
Alone, unaided, in the thickest war?
Alas ! thy friend is slain, and Hector wields
Achilles' arms triumphant in the fields."

“ In happy time (the charioteer replies)
The bold Alcimedon now ets my eyes;
No Greek like him the heavenly steeds restrains,
Or holds their fury in suspended reins :
Patroclus, while he lived, their rage could tame,
But now Patroclus is an empty name!
To thee I yield the seat, to thee resign
The ruling charge : the task of fight be mine.”

He said. Alcimedon, with active heat,
Snatches the reins, and vaults into the seat.
His friend descends. The chief of Troy descried,
And call’d Æneas fighting near his side.
“Lo, to my sight, beyond our hope restored,
Achilles' car, deserted of its lord!
The glorious steeds our ready arms invite,
Scarce their weak drivers guide them through the fight.
Can such opponents stand when we assail ?
Unite thy force, my friend, and we prevail.”

The son of Venus to the counsel yields;
Then o'er their backs they spread their solid shields :
With brass refulgent the broad surface shined,
And thick bull-hides the spacious concave lined.
Them Chromius follows, Aretus succeeds ;
Each hopes the conquest of the lofty steeds:
In vain, brave youths, with glorious hopes ye burn,
In vain advance ! not fated to return.

Unmov'd, Automedon attends the fight,
Implores the eternal, and collects his might.
Then turning to his friend, with dauntless mind:
“Oh keep the foaming coursers close behind!
Full on my shoulders let their nostrils blow,
For hard the fight, determined is the foe;

24

'Tis Hector comes : and when he seeks the prize,
War knows no man; he wins it or he dies.”

Then through the field he sends his voice aloud
And calls the Ajaces from the warring crowd,
With great Atrides. “ Hither turn (he said),
Turn where distress demands immediate aid;
The dead, encircled by his friends, forego,
And save the living from a fiercer foe,
Unhelp'd we stand, unequal to engage
The force of Hector, ard Æneas' rage :
Yet mighty as they are, my force to prove
Is only mine: the event belongs to Jove."

He spoke, and high the sounding javelin Aung,
Which pass'd the shield of Aretus the young:
It pierced his belt, emboss'd with curious art,
Then in the lower belly struck the dart.
As when a ponderous axe, descending full,
Cleaves the broad forehead of some brawny bull : *
Struck ’twixt the horns, he springs with many a bou
Then tumbling rolls enormous on the ground:
Thus fell the youth ; the air his soul received,
And the spear trembled as his entrails heaved.

Now at Automedon the Trojan foe Discharged his lance; the meditated blow, Stooping, he shunn'd; the javelin idly fled, And hiss'd innoxious o'er the hero's head; Deep rooted in the ground, the forceful spear In long vibrations spent its fury there. With clashing falchions now the chiefs had closed, But each brave Ajax heard, and interposed; Nor longer Hector with his Trojans stood, But left their slain companion in his blood : His arms Automedon divests, and cries,

Accept, Patroclus, this mean sacrifice :
Thus have I soothed my griefs, and thus have pa
Poor as it is, some offering to thy shade."

So looks the lion o'er a mangled boar,
All grim with rage, and horrible with gore;
High on the chariot at one bound he sprung,
And o’er his seat the bloody trophies hung.

66

66

For, pleased at length the Grecian arms to aid,
The lord of thunders sent the blue-eyed maid.
As when high Jove denouncing future woe,
O’er the dark clouds extends his purple bow
(In sign of tempests from the troubled air,
Òr from the rage of man, destructive war),
The drooping cattle dread the impending skies,
And from his half-till'd field the laborer fies
In such a form the goddess round her drew
A livid cloud and to the battle flew.
Assuming Phonix' shape on earth she falls,
And in his well-known voice to Sparta calls:
“ And lies Achilles' friend, beloved by all,
A prey to dogs beneath the Trojan wall ?
What shame to Greece for future times to tell,
To thee the greatest in whose cause he fell !”
"O chief, O father! (Atreus’son replies)
O full of days ! by long experience wise !
What more desires my soul, than here unmoved
To guard the body of the man I loved ?
Ah, would Minerva send me strength từ rear
This wearied arm, and ward the storm of war!
But Hector, like the rage of fire, we dread,
And Jove's own glories blaze around his head!”

Pleased to be first of all the powers address'd,
She breathes new vigor in her hero's breast,
And fills with keen revenge, with fell despite,
Desire of blood, and rage, and lust of fight.
So burns the vengeful hornet (soul all o'er),
Repulsed in vain, and thirsty still of gore
(Bold son of air and heat) on angry winds
Untamed, untired, he turns, attacks, and stings.
Fired with like ardor fierce Atrides fiew,
And sent his soul with every lance he threw.

There stood a Trojan, not unknown to fame,
Aëtion's son, and Podes was his name:
With riches honord, and with courage bless'd,
By Hector loved, his comrade, and his guest;
Through his broad belt the spear a passage found,
And, ponderous as he falls, his arms resound.
Sudden at Hector's side Apollo stood,
Like Phænops, Asius' son, appear’d the god
(Asius the great, who held his wealthy reign
În fair Abydos, by the rolling main).

“Oh prince! (he cried) Oh foremost once in fame What Grecian now shall tremble at thy name ? Dost thou at length to Menelaus yield,

A chief once thought no terror of the field ?
Yet singly, now, the long-disputed prize
He bears victorious, while our army flies:
By the same arm illustrious Podes bled;
The friend of Hector, unrevenged, is dead!"
This heard, o'er Hector spreads a cloud of woe,
Rage lifts his lance, and drives him on the foe.

But now the Eternal shook his sable shield,
That shaded Ide and all the subject field
Beneath its ample verge. A rolling cloud
Involved the mount; the thunder roar'd aloud;
The affrighted hills from their foundations nod,
And blaze beneath the lightnings of the god:
At one regard of his all-seeing eye.
The vanquish'd triumph, and the victors fly.

Then trembled Greece: the flight Penelcus led:
For as the brave Baotian turn'd his head
To face the foe, Polydamas drew near,
And razed his shoulder with a shorten'd spear:
By Hector wounded, Leitus quits the plain,
Pierced through the wrist; and raging with the pain,
Grasps his once formidable lance in vain.

As Hector follow'd, Idomen address'd The flaming javelin to his manly breast; The brittle point before his corslet yields; Exulting Troy with clamor fills the fields: High on his chariots the Cretan stood, The son of Priam whirl'd the massive wood. But erring from its aim, the impetuous spear Struck to the dust the squire and charioteer Of martial Merion : Ceranus his name, Who left fair Lyctus for the fields of fame. On foot bold Merion fought; and now laid low, Had graced the triumphs of his Trojan foe, But the brave squire the ready coursers brought, And with his life his master's safety bought. Between his cheek and ear the weapon went, The teeth it shatter'd, and the tongue it rent. Prone from the seat he tumbles to the plain; His dying hand forgets the falling rein: This Merion reaches, bending from the car, And urges to desert the hopeless war: Idomeneus consents ; the lash applies ; And the swift chariot to the navy flies.

Not Ajax less the will of heaven descried, And conquest shifting to the Trojan side, Turn'd by the hand of Jove. Then thus begun,

To Atreus' seed, the godlike Telamon:

“ Alas! who sees not Jove's almighty hand
Transfers the glory to the Trojan band ?
Whether the weak or strong discharge the dart,
He guides each arrow to a Grecian heart:
Not so our spears; incessant though they rain,
He suffers every lance to fall in vain.
Deserted of the god, yet let us try
What human strength and prudence can supply ·
If yet this honor'd corse, in triumph borne,
Máy glad the fleets that hope not our return,
Who tremble yet, scarce rescued from their fates,
And still hear Hector thundering at their gates.
Some hero too must be despatch'd to bear
The mournful message to Pelides' ear;
For sure he knows not, distant on the shore,
His friend, his loved Patroclus, is no more.
But such a chief I spy not through the host:
The men, the steeds, the armies, all are lost
In general darkness- -Lord of earth and air!
Oh king! Oh father! hear my humble

prayer :
Dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore;
Give me to see, and Ajax asks no more:
If Greece must perish, we thy will obey,
But let us perish in the face of day!'

With tears the hero spoke, and at his prayer
The god relenting clear’d the clouded air;
Forth burst the sun with all-enlightening ray;
The blaze of armor flash'd against the day.

Now, now, Atrides ! cast around thy sight;
If yet Antilochus survives the fight,
Let him to great Achilles' ear convey
The fatal news

-Atrides hastes away.
So turns the lion from the nightly fold,
Though high in courage, and vith hunger bold,
Long gall'd by herdsmen, and long vex'd by hounds,
Stiff with fatigue, and fretted sore with wounds;
The darts fly round him from a hundred hands,
And the red terrors of the blazing brands :
Till late, reluctant, at the dawn of day
Sour he departs, and quits the untasted prey,
So moved Atrides from his dangerous place
With weary limbs, but with unwilling pace;
The foe, he fear'd, might yet Patroclus gain,
And much admonish'd, much adjured his train :

“O guard these relics to your charge consign'd, And bear the merits of the dead in mind;