Iliad

The cheerful Lady of the light, deck'd in her saffron robe,

Dispers'd her beams through ev'ry part of this enflow'red globe,

When thund'ring Jove a Court of Gods assembled by his will

In top of all the topful heights, that crown th' Olympian hill.

He spake, and all the Gods gave ear: “Hear how I stand inclin'd,

That God nor Goddess may attempt t' infringe my sov'reign mind,

But all give suffrage that with speed I may these discords end.

What God soever I shall find endeavour to defend

Or Troy or Greece, with wounds to heav'n he, sham'd, shall reascend;

Or, taking with him his offence, I'll cast him down as deep

As Tartarus, the brood of night, where Barathrum doth steep

Torment, in his profoundest sinks, where is the floor of brass,

And gates of iron; the place, for depth, as far doth hell surpass,

As heav'n, for height, exceeds the earth; then shall he know from thence

How much my pow'r, past all the Gods, hath sov'reign eminence.

Endanger it the whiles and see. Let down our golden chain,

And at it let all Deities their utmost strengths constrain

To draw me to the earth from heav'n; you never shall prevail,

Though, with your most contention, ye dare my state assail,

But when my will shall be dispos'd, to draw you all to me,

Ev'n with the earth itself, and seas, ye shall enforced be;

Then will I to Olympus' top our virtuous engine bind,

And by it ev'rything shall hang, by my command inclin'd.

So much I am supreme to Gods, to men supreme as much.”

The Gods sat silent, and admir'd, his dreadful speech was such.

At last his blue-ey'd daughter spake: “O great Saturnides!

O father, O heav'n's highest king, well know we the excess

Of thy great pow'r, compar'd with all; yet the bold Greeks' estate

We needs must mourn, since they must fall beneath so hard a fate;

For, if thy grave command enjoin, we will abstain from fight.

But to afford them such advice, as may relieve their plight,

We will, with thy consent, be bold; that all may not sustain

The fearful burthen of thy wrath, and with their shames be slain.”

He smil'd, and said: “Be confident, thou art belov'd of me;

I speak not this with serious thoughts, but will be kind to thee.”

This said, his brass-hoof'd wingéd horse he did to chariot bind,

Whose crests were fring'd with manes of gold; and golden garments shin'd

On his rich shoulders; in his hand he took a golden scourge,

Divinely fashion'd, and with blows their willing speed did urge

Mid way betwixt the earth and heav'n. To Ida: then he came,

Abounding in delicious springs, and nurse of beasts untame,

Where, on the mountain Gargarus, men did a fane erect

To his high name, and altars sweet; and there his horse he check'd,

Dissolv'd them from his chariot, and in a cloud of jet

He cover'd them, and on the top took his triumphant seat,

Beholding Priam's famous town, and all the fleet of Greece.

The Greeks took breakfast speedily, and arm'd at ev'ry piece.

So Trojans; who though fewer far, yet all to fight took arms,

Dire need enforc'd them to avert their wives' and children's harms.

All gates flew open; all the host did issue, foot and horse,

In mighty tumult; straight one place adjoin'd each adverse force.

Then shields with shields met, darts with darts, strength against strength oppos'd;

The boss-pik'd targets were thrust on, and thunder'd as they clos'd

In mighty tumult; groan for groan, and breath for breath did breathe,

Of men then slain, and to be slain; earth flow'd with fruits of death.

While the fair morning's beauty held, and day increas'd in height,

Their jav'lins mutually made death transport an equal freight,

But when the hot meridian point, bright Phœbus did ascend,

Then Jove his golden balances did equally extend,

And, of long-rest-conferring death, put in two bitter fates

For Troy and Greece; he held the midst; the day of final dates

Fell on the Greeks; the Greeks' hard lot sunk to the flow'ry ground,

The Trojans' leapt as high as heav'n. Then did the claps resound

Of his fierce thunder; lightning leapt amongst each Grecian troop;

The sight amaz'd them; pallid fear made boldest stomachs stoop,

Then Idomen durst not abide, Atrides went his way,

And both th' Ajaces; Nestor yet, against his will did stay,

That grave protector of the Greeks, for Paris with a dart

Enrag'd one of his chariot horse; he smote the upper part

Of all his skull, ev'n where the hair, that made his foretop, sprung.

The hurt was deadly, and the pain so sore the courser stung,

(Pierc'd to the brain) he stamp'd and plung'd. One on another bears,

Entangled round about the beam; then Nestor cut the gears

With his new-drawn authentic sword. Meanwhile the fi'ry horse

Of Hector brake into the press, with their bold ruler's force;

Then good old Nestor had been slain, had Diomed not espy'd,

Who to Ulysses, as he fled, importunately cried:

“Thou that in counsels dost abound, O Laertiades,

Why fly'st thou? Why thus, coward-like, shunn'st thou the honour'd prease?

Take heed thy back take not a dart. Stay, let us both intend

To drive this cruel enemy, from our dear agéd friend.”

He spake, but wary Ithacus would find no patient ear,

But fled forthright, ev'n to the fleet. Yet, though he single were,

Brave Diomed mix'd amongst the fight, and stood before the steeds

Of old Neleides, whose estate thus kingly he areeds:

“O father, with these youths in fight, thou art unequal plac'd,

Thy willing sinews are unknit, grave age pursues thee fast,

And thy unruly horse are slow; my chariot therefore use,

And try how ready Trojan horse, can fly him that pursues,

Pursue the flier, and ev'ry way perform the varied fight;

I forc'd them from Anchises' son, well skill'd in cause of flight.

Then let my squire lead hence thy horse; mine thou shalt guard, whilst I,

By thee advanc'd, assay the fight, that Hector's self may try

If my lance dote with the defects, that fail best minds in age,

Or finds the palsy in my hands, that doth thy life engage.”

This noble Nestor did accept, and Diomed's two friends,

Eurymedon that valour loves, and Sthenelus, ascends

Old Nestor's coach. Of Diomed's horse Nestor the charge sustains,

And Tydeus' son took place of fight. Neleides held the reins,

And scourg'd the horse, who swiftly ran direct in Hector's face;

Whom fierce Tydides bravely charg'd, but, he turn'd from the chace,

His jav'lin Eniopeus smit, mighty Thebæus' son,

And was great Hector's charioteer; it through his breast did run,

Near to his pap; he fell to earth, back flew his frighted horse,

His strength and soul were both dissolv'd. Hector had deep remorse

Of his mishap; yet left he him, and for another sought;

Nor long his steeds did want a guide, for straight good fortune brought

Bold Archeptolemus, whose life did from Iphitis spring;

He made him take the reins and mount. Then souls were set on wing;

Then high exploits were undergone; then Trojans in their walls

Had been infolded like meek lambs, had Jove wink'd at their falls,

Who hurl'd his horrid thunder forth, and made pale lightnings fly.

Into the earth, before the horse that Nestor did apply.

A dreadful flash burnt through the air, that savour'd sulphur-like,

Which down before the chariot the dazzled horse did strike.

The fair reins fell from Nestor's hand, who did in fear entreat

Renown'd Tydides into flight to turn his fury's heat:

“For know'st thou not,” said he, “our aid is not supplied from Jove?

This day he will give fame to Troy, which when it fits his love

We shall enjoy. Let no man tempt his unresisted will,

Though he exceed in gifts of strength; for he exceeds him still.”

“Father,” replied the king, “'tis true; but both my heart and soul

Are most extremely griev'd to think how Hector will control

My valour with his vaunts in Troy, that I was terror-sick

With his approach; which when he boasts, let earth devour me quick.”

“Ah! warlike Tydeus' son,” said he, “what needless words are these?

Though Hector should report thee faint, and amorous of thy ease,

The Trojans, nor the Trojan wives, would never give him trust,

Whose youthful husbands thy free hand hath smother'd so in dust.”

This said, he turn'd his one-hoof'd horse to flight, and troop did take,

When Hector and his men, with shouts, did greedy púrsuit make,

And pour'd on darts that made air sigh. Then Hector did exclaim:

“O Tydeus' son, the kings of Greece do most renown thy name

With highest place, feasts, and full cups; who now will do thee shame;

Thou shalt be like a woman us'd, and they will say: 'Depart,

Immartial minion, since to stand Hector thou hadst no heart.'

Nor canst thou scale our turrets' tops, nor lead the wives to fleet

Of valiant men; that wife-like fear'st my adverse charge to meet.”

This two ways mov'd him,—still to fly, or turn his horse and fight.

Thrice thrust he forward to assault, and ev'ry time the fright

Of Jove's fell thunder drave him back, which he propos'd for sign

(To show the change of victory) Trojans should victors shine.

Then Hector comforted his men: “All my advent'rous friends,

Be men, and, of your famous strength, think of the honour'd ends.

I know benevolent Jupiter, did by his beck profess

Conquest and high renown to me, and to the Greeks distress.

O fools, to raise such silly forts, not worth the least account,

Nor able to resist our force! With ease our horse may mount,

Quite over all their hollow dike. But, when their fleet I reach,

Let Memory to all the world a famous bonfire teach,

For I will all their ships inflame, with whose infestive smoke,

Fear-shrunk, and hidden near their keels, the conquer'd Greeks shall choke.”

Then cherish'd he his famous horse: “O Xanthus, now,” said he,

“And thou Podargus, Æthon too, and Lampus, dear to me,

Make me some worthy recompense, for so much choice of meat,

Giv'n you by fair Andromache; bread of the purest wheat,

And with it, for your drink, mix'd wine, to make ye wishéd cheer,

Still serving you before myself, her husband young and dear.

Pursue, and use your swiftest speed, that we may take for prise

The shield of old Neleides, which fame lifts to the skies,

Ev'n to the handles telling it to be of massy gold.

And from the shoulders let us take, of Diomed the bold,

The royal curace Vulcan wrought, with art so exquisite,

These if we make our sacred spoil, I doubt not, but this night,

Ev'n to their navy to enforce the Greeks unturnéd flight.”

This Juno took in high disdain, and made Olympus shake

As she but stirr'd within her throne, and thus to Neptune spake:

“O Neptune, what a spite is this! Thou God so huge in pow'r,

Afflicts it not thy honour'd heart, to see rude spoil devour

These Greeks that have in Helice, and Aege, offer'd thee

So many and such wealthy gifts? Let them the victors be.

If we, that are the aids of Greece, would beat home these of Troy,

And hinder broad-ey'd Jove's proud will, it would abate his joy.”

He, angry, told her she was rash, and he would not be one

Of all the rest, should strive with Jove, whose pow'r was match'd by none.

Whiles they conferr'd thus, all the space the trench contain'd before

(From that part of the fort that flank'd the navy-anchoring shore)

Was filled with horse and targeteers, who there for refuge came,

By Mars-swift Hector's pow'r engaged; Jove gave his strength the fame;

And he with spoilful fire had burn'd the fleet, if Juno's grace

Had not inspir'd the king himself, to run from place to place,

And stir up ev'ry soldier's pow'r, to some illustrious deed.

First visiting their leaders' tents, his ample purple weed

He wore, to show all who he was, and did his station take

At wise Ulysses' sable barks, that did the battle make

Of all the fleet; from whence his speech might with more ease be driv'n

To Ajax' and Achilles' ships, to whose chief charge were giv'n

The vantguard and the rearguard both, both for their force of hand,

And trusty bosoms. There arriv'd, thus urg'd he to withstand

Th' insulting Trojans: “O what shame, ye empty-hearted lords,

Is this to your admiréd forms! Where are your glorious words,

In Lemnos vaunting you the best of all the Grecian host?

'We are the strongest men,' ye said, 'we will command the most,

Eating most flesh of high-horn'd beeves, and drinking cups full crown'd,

And ev'ry man a hundred foes, two hundred, will confound;

Now all our strength, dar'd to our worst; one Hector cannot tame,'

Who presently with horrid fire, will all our fleet inflame.

O Father Jove, hath ever yet thy most unsuffer'd hand

Afflicted, with such spoil of souls, the king of any land,

And taken so much fame from him? when I did never fail,

(Since under most unhappy stars; this fleet was under sail)

Thy glorious altars, I protest, but, above all the Gods,

Have burnt fat thighs of beeves to thee, and pray'd to raze th' abodes

Of rape-defending Ilions. Yet grant, almighty Jove,

One favour;—that we may at least with life from hence remove,

Not under such inglorious hands, the hands of death employ;

And, where Troy should be stoop'd by Greece, let Greece fall under Troy.”

To this ev'n weeping king did Jove remorseful audience give,

And shook great heav'n to him, for sign his men and he should live.

Then quickly cast he off his hawk, the eagle prince of air,

That perfects his unspotted vows; who seiz'd in her repair

A sucking hind calf, which she truss'd in her enforcive seres,

And by Jove's altar let it fall, amongst th' amazéd peers,

Where the religious Achive kings, with sacrifice did please

The author of all oracles, divine Saturnides.

Now, when they knew the bird of Jove, they turn'd courageous head.

When none, though many kings put on, could make his vaunt, he led

Tydides to renew'd assault, or issu'd first the dike,

Or first did fight; but, far the first, stone dead his lance did strike

Arm'd Agelaus, by descent surnam'd Phradmonides;

He turn'd his ready horse to flight, and Diomed's lance did seize

His back betwixt his shoulder-blades, and look'd out at his breast;

He fell, and his arms rang his fall. Th' Atrides next address'd

Themselves to fight; th' Ajaces next, with vehement strength endued;

Idomenëus and his friend, stout Merion, next pursued;

And after these Eurypylus, Evemon's honour'd race;

The ninth, with backward-wreathéd bow, had little Teucer place,

He still fought under Ajax' shield, who sometimes held it by,

And then he look'd his object out, and let his arrow fly,

And, whomsoever in the press he wounded; him he slew,

Then under Ajax' sev'n-fold shield, he presently withdrew.

He far'd like an unhappy child, that doth to mother run

For succour, when he knows full well, he some shrewd turn hath done.

What Trojans then were to their deaths, by Teucer's shafts impress'd?

Hapless Orsilochus was first, Ormenus, Ophelest,

Dæter, and hardy Chromius, and Lycophon divine,

And Amopaon that did spring from Polyæmon's line,

And Menalippus; all, on heaps, he tumbled to the ground.

The king rejoic'd to see his shafts the Phrygian ranks confound,

Who straight came near, and spake to him: “O Teucer, lovely man,

Strike still so sure, and be a grace to ev'ry Grecian,

And to thy father Telamon, who took thee kindly home

(Although not by his wife his son) and gave thee foster room,

Ev'n from thy childhood; then to him, though far from hence remov'd,

Make good fame reach; and to thyself, I vow what shall be prov'd:

If he that dreadful Ægis bears, and Pallas, grant to me

Th' expugnance of well-builded Troy; I first will honour thee

Next to myself with some rich gift, and put it in thy hand:

A three-foot vessel, that, for grace, in sacred fanes doth stand;

Or two horse and a chariot; or else a lovely dame

That may ascend on bed with thee, and amplify thy name.”

Teucer right nobly answer'd him: “Why, most illustrate king,

I being thus forward of myself, dost thou, adjoin a sting?

Without which, all the pow'r I have, I cease not to employ,

For, from the place where we repuls'd the Trojans towards Troy,

I all the purple field have strew'd, with, one or other slain.

Eight shafts I shot, with long steel heads, of which not one in vain,

All were in youthful bodies fix'd, well skill'd in war's constraint;

Yet this wild dog; with all my aim, I have no pow'r to taint.”

This said, another arrow forth, from his stiff string he sent,

At Hector, whom he long'd to wound; but still amiss it went.

His shaft smit fair Gorgythion, of Priam's princely race,

Who in Æpina was brought forth, a famous town in Thrace,

By Castianira, that, for form, was like celestial breed;

And, as a crimson poppy flow'r, surchargéd with his seed,

And vernal humours falling thick, declines his heavy brow,

So, of one side, his helmet's weight his fainting head did bow.

Yet Teucer would, another shaft at Hector's life dispose,

So fain he such a mark would hit, but still beside it goes;

Apollo did avert the shaft; but Hector's charioteer,

Bold Archeptolemus, he smit, as he was rushing near

To make the fight; to earth he fell, his swift horse back did fly,

And there were both his strength and soul exil'd eternally.

Huge grief, for Hector's slaughter'd friend, pinch'd-in his mighty mind,

Yet was he forc'd to leave him there, and his void place resign'd

To his sad brother, that was by, Cebriones; whose ear

Receiving Hector's charge, he straight the weighty reins did bear;

And Hector from his shining coach, with horrid voice, leap'd on,

To wreak his friend on Teucer's hand; and up he took a stone,

With which he at the archer ran; who from his quiver drew

A sharp-pil'd shaft, and nock'd it sure; but in great Hector flew

With such fell speed, that; in his draught, he his right shoulder strook

Where,'twixt his neck and breast, the joint his native closure took.

The wound was wondrous full of death, his, string in sunder flees,

His numméd hand fell strengthless down, and he upon his knees.

Ajax neglected not to aid his brother thus depress'd,

But came and saft him with his shield; and two more friends, address'd

To be his aid, took him to fleet, Mecisteus, Echius' son,

And gay Alastor. Teucer sigh'd, for all his service done.

Then did Olympius, with fresh strength, the Trojan pow'rs revive,

Who, to their trenches once again, the troubled Greeks did drive.

Hector brought terror with his strength, and ever fought before.

As when some highly stomach'd hound, that hunts a sylvan boar,

Or kingly lion, loves the haunch, and pincheth oft behind,

Bold of his feet, and still observes the game to turn inclin'd,

Not utterly dissolv'd in flight; so Hector did pursue,

And whosoever was the last, he ever did subdue,

They fled, but, when they had their dike, and palisadoes, pass'd,

(A number of them put to sword) at ships they stay'd at last.

Then mutual exhortations flew, then, all with hands and eyes

Advanc'd to, all the Gods, their plagues wrung from them open cries.

Hector, with his four rich-man'd horse, assaulting always rode,

The eyes of Gorgon burnt in him, and war's vermilion God.

The Goddess that all Goddesses, for snowy arms, out-shin'd,

Thus spake to Pallas, to the Greeks with gracious ruth inclin'd:

“O Pallas, what a grief is this! Is all our succour past

To these our perishing Grecian friends? At least withheld at last,

Ev'n now, when one man's violence must make them perish all,

In satisfaction of a fate so full of funeral?

Hector Priamides now raves, no more to be endur'd.

That hath already on the Greeks so many harms inur'd.”

The azure Goddess answer'd her: “This man had surely found

His fortitude and life dissolv'd, ev'n on his father's ground,

By Grecian valour, if my sire, infested with ill moods,

Did not so dote on these of Troy, too jealous of their bloods,

And ever an unjust repulse stands to my willing pow'rs,

Little rememb'ring what I did, in all the desp'rate hours

Of his affected Hercules; I ever rescu'd him,

In labours of Eurystheüs, untouch'd in life or limb,

When he, heav'n knows, with drownéd eyes look'd up for help to heav'n,

Which ever, at command of Jove, was by my suppliance giv'n,

But had my wisdom reach'd so far, to, know of this event,

When to the solid-ported depths of hell his son was sent,

To hale out hateful Pluto's dog from darksome Erebus,

He had not 'scap'd the streams of Styx, so deep and dangerous.

Yet Jove hates me, and shows his love in doing Thetis' will,

That kiss'd his knees, and strok'd his chin, pray'd, and importun'd till,

That he would honour with his aid her city-razing son,

Displeas'd Achilles; and for him our friends are thus undone.

But time shall come again, when he, to do his friends some aid,

Will call me his Glaucopides, his sweet and blue-eyed Maid.

Then harness thou thy horse for me, that his bright palace gates

I soon may enter, arming me, to order these debates;

And I will try if Priam's son will still maintain his cheer,

When in the crimson paths of war, I dreadfully appear;

For some proud Trojans shall be sure to nourish dogs and fowls,

And pave the shore with fat and flesh, depriv'd of lives and souls.”

Juno prepar'd her horse, whose manes ribands of gold enlac'd.

Pallas her party-colour'd robe on her bright shoulders cast,

Divinely wrought with her own hands, in th' entry of her sire.

Then put she on her ample breast her under-arming tire,

And on it her celestial arms. The chariot straight she takes,

With her huge heavy violent lance, with which she slaughter makes

Of armies fatal to her wrath. Saturnia whipp'd horse,

And heav'n-gates, guarded by the Hours, op'd by their proper force.

Through which they flew. Whom when Jove saw (set near the Idalian springs)

Highly, displeas'd, he Iris call'd, that hath the golden wings,

And said: “Fly, Iris, turn them back, let them not come at me,

Our meetings, sev'rally dispos'd, will nothing gracious be.

Beneath their o'erthrown chariot I'll shiver their proud steeds,

Hurl down themselves, their waggon break, and, for their stubborn deeds,

In ten whole years they shall not heal the wounds I will impress

With horrid thunder; that my maid may know when to address

Arms 'gainst her father. For my wife, she doth not so offend.

'Tis but her use to interrupt whatever I intend.”

Iris, with this, left Ida's hills, and up t' Olympus flew,

Met near heav'n-gates the Goddesses, and thus their haste withdrew:

“What course intend you? Why are you wrapp'd with your fancies' storm?

Jove likes not ye should aid the Greeks, but threats, and will perform,

To crush in pieces your swift horse beneath their glorious yokes,

Hurl down yourselves, your chariot break, and, those impoison'd strokes

His wounding thunder shall imprint in your celestial parts,

In ten full springs ye shall not cure; that She that tames proud hearts

(Thyself, Minerva) may be taught to know for what, and when,

Thou dost against thy father fight; for sometimes childeren

May with discretion plant themselves against their fathers' wills,

But not, where humours only rule, in works beyond their skills.

For Juno; she offends him not, nor vexeth him so much,

For 'tis her use to cross his will, her impudence is such,

The habit of offence in this she only doth contract,

And so grieves or incenseth less, though ne'er the less her fact.

But thou most griev'st him, doggéd dame, whom he rebukes in time,

Lest silence should pervert thy will, and pride too highly climb

In thy bold bosom, desp'rate girl, if seriously thou dare

Lift thy unwieldy lance 'gainst Jove, as thy pretences are.”

She left them, and Saturnia said: “Ah me! Thou seed of Jove,

By my advice we will no more unfit convention move

With Jupiter, for mortal men; of whom, let this man die,

And that man live, whoever he pursues with destiny;

And let him, plotting all events, dispose of either host,

As he thinks fittest for them both, and may become us most.”

Thus turn'd she back, and to the Hours her rich-man'd horse resign'd,

Who them t' immortal mangers bound; the chariot they inclin'd

Beneath the crystal walls of heav'n; and they in golden thrones

Consorted other Deities, replete with passións,

Jove, in his bright-wheel'd chariot, his fi'ry horse now, beats

Up to Olympus, and aspir'd the Gods' eternal seats.

Great Neptune loos'd his horse, his car upon the altar plac'd,

And heav'nly-linen coverings did round about it cast.

The Far-seer us'd his throne of gold. The vast Olympus shook

Beneath his feet. His wife, and maid, apart places took,

Nor any word afforded him. He knew their thoughts, and said:

“Why do you thus torment yourselves? You need not sit dismay'd

With the long labours you have us'd in your victorious fight,

Destroying Trojans, 'gainst whose lives you heap such high despite.

Ye should have held your glorious course; for, be assur'd, as far

As all my pow'rs, by all means urg'd, could have sustain'd the war,

Not all the host of Deities should have retir'd my hand

From vow'd inflictions on the Greeks, much less you two withstand.

But you, before you saw the fight, much less the slaughter there,

Had all your goodly lineaments possess'd with shaking fear,

And never had your chariot borne their charge to heav'n again,

But thunder should have smit you both, had you one Trojan slain.”

Both Goddesses let fall their chins upon their ivory breasts,

Set next to Jove, contriving still afflicted Troy's unrests.

Pallas for anger could not speak; Saturnia, contrary,

Could not for anger hold her peace, but made this bold reply:

“Not-to-be-suff'red Jupiter, what need'st thou still enforce

Thy matchless pow'r? We know it well; but we must yield remorse

To them that yield us sacrifice. Nor need'st thou thus deride

Our kind obedience, nor our griefs, but bear our pow'rs applied

To just protection of the Greeks, that anger tomb not all

In Troy's foul gulf of perjury, and let them stand should fall.”

“Grieve not,” said Jove, “at all done yet; for, if thy fair eyes please

This next red morning they shall see the great Saturnides

Bring more destruction to the Greeks; and Hector shall not cease,

Till he have rouséd from the fleet swift-foot Æacides,

In that day, when before their ships, for his Patroclus slain,

The Greeks in great distress shall fight; for so the Fates ordain.

I weigh not thy displeaséd spleen, though to th' extremest bounds

Of earth and seas it carry thee, where endless night confounds

Japet, and my dejected Sire, who sit so far beneath,

They never see the flying sun, nor hear the winds that breath,

Near to profoundest Tartarus. Nor, thither if thou went,

Would I take pity of thy moods, since none more impudent.”

To this she nothing did reply. And now Sol's glorious light

Fell to the sea, and to the land drew up the drowsy night.

The Trojans griev'd at Phœbus' fall, which all the Greeks desir'd,

And sable night, so often wish'd, to earth's firm throne aspir'd.

Hector (intending to consult) near to the gulfy flood,

Far from the fleet, led to a place, pure and exempt from blood,

The Trojans' forces. From their horse all lighted, and did hear

Th' oration Jove-lov'd Hector made; who held a goodly spear,

Elev'n full cubits long, the head was brass, and did reflect

A wanton light before him still, it round about was deck'd

With strong hoops of new-burnish'd gold. On this he lean'd, and said:

“Hear me, my worthy friends of Troy, and you our honour'd aid.

A little since, I had conceit we should have made retreat,

By light of the inflaméd fleet, with all the Greeks' escheat,

But darkness hath prevented us; and saft, with special grace,

These Achives and their shore-hal'd fleet. Let us then render place

To sacred Night, our suppers dress, and from our chariot free

Our fair-man'd horse, and meat them well. Then let there convoy'd be,

From forth the city presently, oxen and well-fed sheep,

Sweet wine, and bread; and fell much wood, that all night we may keep

Plenty of fires, ev'n till the light bring forth the lovely morn,

And let their brightness glaze the skies, that night may not suborn

The Greeks' escape, if they for flight the sea's broad back would take;

At least they may not part with ease, but, as retreat they make,

Each man may bear a wound with him, to cure when he comes home,

Made with a shaft or sharp'ned spear; and others fear to come,

With charge of lamentable war, 'gainst soldiers bred in Troy.

Then let our heralds through the town their offices employ

To warn the youth, yet short of war, and time-white fathers, past,

That in our god-built tow'rs they see strong courts of guard be plac'd,

About the walls; and let our dames, yet flourishing in years,

That, having beauties to keep pure, are most inclin'd to fears

(Since darkness in distressful times more dreadful is than light)

Make lofty fires in ev'ry house; and thus, the dang'rous night,

Held with strong watch, if th' enemy have ambuscadoes laid

Near to our walls (and therefore seem in flight the more dismay'd,

Intending a surprise, while we are all without the town)

They ev'ry way shall be impugn'd, to, ev'ry man's renown.

Perform all this, brave Trojan friends. What now I have to say

Is all express'd; the cheerful morn shall other things display.

It is my glory (putting trust in Jove, and other Gods)

That I shall now expulse these dogs Fates sent to our abodes,

Who bring ostents of destiny, and black their threat'ning fleet.

But this night let us hold strong guards; to-morrow we will meet

(With fierce-made war) before their ships, and I'll make known to all

If strong Tydides from their ships can drive me to their wall,

Or I can pierce him with my sword, and force his bloody spoil.

The wishéd morn shall show his pow'r, if he can shun his foil

I running on him with my lance. I think; when day ascends,

He shall lie wounded with the first, and by him many friends.

O that I were as sure to live immortal, and sustain

No frailties with increasing years, but evermore remain

Ador'd like Pallas, or the Sun, as all doubts die in me

That heav'n's next light shall be the last the Greeks shall ever see!”

This speech all Trojans did applaud; who from their traces los'd

Their sweating horse, which sev'rally with headstalls they repos'd,

And fast'ned by their chariots; when others brought from town

Fat sheep and oxen, instantly, bread, wine; and hewéd down

Huge store of wood. The winds transferr'd into the friendly sky

Their supper's savour; to the which they sat delightfully,

And spent all night in open field; fires round about them shin'd.

As when about the silver moon, when air is free from wind,

And stars shine clear, to whose sweet beams, high prospects, and the brows

Of all steep hills and pinnacles, thrust up themselves for shows,

And ev'n the lowly valleys joy to glitter in their sight,

When the unmeasur'd firmament bursts to disclose her light,

And all the signs in heav'n are seen, that glad the shepherd's heart;

So many fires disclos'd their beams, made by the Trojan part,

Before the face of Ilion, and her bright turrets show'd.

A thousand courts of guard kept fires, and ev'ry guard allow'd

Fifty stout men, by whom their horse ate oats and hard white corn,

And all did wishfully expect the silver-thronéd morn.