Part 18 (1/2)
”No wonder, Greeks! that all to Hector yield; Secure of favouring Gods, he takes the field; His strokes they second, and avert our spears
Behold where Mars in mortal arms appears!
Retire then, warriors, but sedate and slow; Retire, but with your faces to the foe
Trust not too ht; 'Tis not with Troy, but with the Gods ye fight”
Now near the Greeks the black battalions drew; And first two leaders valiant Hector slew: His force Anchialus and Mnesthes found, In every art of glorious war renown'd; In the saht united, and united died
Struck at the sight, the eance, and assaults the foes
His h A belly went; A, and with treasure bless'd; But fate resistless from his country led The chief, to perish at his people's head
Shook with his fall his brazen ar; Around his head an iron tempest rain'd; A wood of spears his ample shi+eld sustain'd: Beneath one foot the yet war breast: He could noar on the fields, With bristling lances, and compacted shi+elds; Till in the steely circle straiten'd round, Forced he gives way, and sternly quits the ground
While thus they strive, Tlepoleed by the force of unresisted fate, Burns with desire Sarpedon's strength to prove; Alcides' offspring ht arreat descendant, and his greater son
Prepared for co Rhodian vents his haughty boast:
”What brings this Lycian counsellor so far, To tremble at our arms, not mix in war!
Know thy vain self, nor let their flatteryJove
How far unlike those chiefs of race divine, How vast the difference of their deeds and thine!
Jove got such heroes as my sire, whose soul No fear could daunt, nor earth nor hell control
Troy felt his arm, and yon proud raeful hand: With six small shi+ps, and but a slender train, He left the toide-deserted plain
But what art thou, who deedless look'st around, While unrevenged thy Lycians bite the ground!
Sreater, thou must yield to o!
I make this present to the shades below”
The son of Hercules, the Rhodian guide, Thus haughty spoke The Lycian king replied:
”Thy sire, O prince! o'erturn'd the Trojan state, Whose perjured monarch well deserved his fate; Those heavenly steeds the hero sought so far, False he detain'd, the just reward of war
Nor so content, the generous chief defied, With base reproaches and unh race you boast, Shall raise lory when thy own is lost: Now host to Pluto's gloon”
He said: both javelins at an instant flew; Both struck, both wounded, but Sarpedon's slew: Full in the boaster's neck the weapon stood, Transfix'd his throat, and drank the vital blood; The soul disdainful seeks the caves of night, And his seal'd eyes for ever lose the light
Yet not in vain, Tlepole to the bone Sarpedon's thigh, had robb'd the chief of breath; But Jove was present, and forbade the death
Borne fro'd the lance along
(His friends, each busied in his several part, Through haste, or danger, had not drawn the dart) The Greeks with slain Tlepolemus retired; Whose fall Ulysses vieith fury fired; Doubtful if Jove's great son he should pursue, Or pour his vengeance on the Lycian crew
But heaven and fate the first design withstand, Nor this great death race Ulysses' hand
Minerva drives him on the Lycian train; Alastor, Cronius, Halius, strew'd the plain, Alcander, Prytanis, Noemon fell:(154) And numbers more his sword had sent to hell, But Hector saw; and, furious at the sight, Rush'd terrible aht
With joy Sarpedon view'd the wish'd relief, And, faint, la, thus implored the chief:
”O suffer not the foe to bear away My helpless corpse, an unassisted prey; If I, unbless'd, must see my son no more, My much-loved consort, and my native shore, Yet let me die in Ilion's sacred wall; Troy, in whose cause I fell, shall mourn my fall”
He said, nor Hector to the chief replies, But shakes his plume, and fierce to co foes; And dyes the ground with purple as he goes
Beneath a beech, Jove's consecrated shade, His on, his favourite chief, was nigh, Who wrench'd the javelin fro'd for flight, And o'er his eye-balls swaentle breath, Recall'd his spirit froenerous Greeks recede with tardy pace, Though Mars and Hector thunder in their face; None turn their backs tofight
Who first, who last, by Mars' and Hector's hand, Stretch'd in their blood, lay gasping on the sand?