Part 47 (1/2)
Such is the fate of Greece, and such is ours: Behold, ye warriors, and exert your powers
Death is the worst; a fate which all must try; And for our country, 'tis a bliss to die
The gallant ht he be, Yet leaves his nation safe, his children free; Entails a debt on all the grateful state; His own brave friends shall glory in his fate; His wife live honour'd, all his race succeed, And late posterity enjoy the deed!”
This roused the soul in every Trojan breast: The Godlike Ajax next his Greeks address'd:
”How long, ye warriors of the Argive race, (To generous Argos what a dire disgrace!) How long on these cursed confines will ye lie, Yet undetermined, or to live or die?
What hopes remain, what methods to retire, If once your vessels catch the Trojan fire?
Make how the flames approach, how near they fall, How Hector calls, and Troy obeys his call!
Not to the dance that dreadful voice invites, It calls to death, and all the rage of fights
'Tis now no time for wisdom or debates; To your own hands are trusted all your fates; And better far in one decisive strife, One day should end our labour or our life, Than keep this hard-got inch of barren sands, Still press'd, and press'd by such inglorious hands”
The listening Grecians feel their leader's fla bosohters spread on either side; By Hector here the Phocian Schedius died; There, pierced by Ajax, sunk Laodamas, Chief of the foot, of old Antenor's race
Polydamas laid Otus on the sand, The fierce coes at the victor threw; The victor, stooping, from the death withdrew; (That valued life, O Phoebus! was thy care) But Croes on the slippery shore; His radiant ares bore
Dolops, the son of La from the race of old Laoht field, He pierced the centre of his sounding shi+eld: But Meges, Phyleus' a shore; For king Euphetes gave the golden mail, Compact, and firm with many a jointed scale) Which oft, in cities storm'd, and battles won, Had saved the father, and now saves the son
Full at the Trojan's head he urged his lance, Where the high plu'd with Tyrian dye: in dust below, Shorn froht the Spartan king survey'd, And stood by Meges' side a sudden aid
Through Dolops' shoulder urged his forceful dart, Which held its passage through the panting heart, And issued at his breast With thundering sound The warrior falls, extended on the ground
In rush the conquering Greeks to spoil the slain: But Hector's voice excites his kindred train; The hero allant, brave, and young
He (ere to Troy the Grecians cross'd the e oxen on Percote's plain; But when oppress'd, his country claim'd his care, Return'd to Ilion, and excell'd in war; For this, in Priam's court, he held his place, Beloved no less than Prialed, as his troops he led, And thus infla to the dead
”Lo, Melanippus! lo, where Dolops lies; And is it thus our royal kinsman dies?
O'ermatch'd he falls; to two at once a prey, And lo! they bear the bloody are, But hand to hand thy country's foes engage: Till Greece at once, and all her glory end; Or Ilion froht descend, Heaved from the lowest stone; and bury all In one sad sepulchre, one common fall”
Hector (this said) rush'd forward on the foes: With equal ardour Melanippus glows: Then Ajax thus--”O Greeks! respect your fame, Respect yourselves, and learn an honest shame: Let mutual reverence mutual warmth inspire, And catch from breast to breast the noble fire, On valour's side the odds of colorious, or lamented die; The wretch that trembles in the field of fame, Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shaenerous sense he not in vain imparts; It sunk, and rooted in the Grecian hearts: They join, they throng, they thicken at his call, And flank the navy with a brazen wall; shi+elds touching shi+elds, in order blaze above, And stop the Trojans, though impell'd by Jove
The fiery Spartan first, with loud applause
Warms the bold son of Nestor in his cause
”Is there (he said) in arht, so active to pursue?
Why stand you distant, nor attempt a deed?
Lift the bold lance, and make some Trojan bleed”
He said; and backward to the lines retired; Forth rush'd the youth with martial fury fired, Beyond the foremost ranks; his lance he threw, And round the black battalions cast his view
The troops of Troy recede with sudden fear, While the swift javelin hiss'd along in air
Advancing Melanippus met the dart With his bold breast, and felt it in his heart: Thundering he falls; his falling arround
The victor leaps upon his prostrate prize: Thus on a roe the well-breath'd beagle flies, And rends his side, fresh-bleeding with the dart The distant hunter sent into his heart
Observing Hector to the rescue flew; Bold as he was, Antilochus withdrew
So when a savage, ranging o'er the plain, Has torn the shepherd's dog, or shepherd's swain, While conscious of the deed, he glares around, And hears the gathering multitude resound, Tiains the friendly shelter of the wood: So fears the youth; all Troy with shouts pursue, While stones and darts in led tempest flew; But enter'd in the Grecian ranks, he turns His manly breast, and with new fury burns
Now on the fleet the tides of Trojans drove, Fierce to fulfil the stern decrees of Jove: The sire of Gods, confir Thetis' prayer, The Grecian ardour quench'd in deep despair; But lifts to glory Troy's prevailing bands, Swells all their hearts, and strengthens all their hands
On Ida's top he waits with longing eyes, To view the navy blazing to the skies; Then, nor till then, the scale of war shall turn, The Trojans fly, and conquer'd Ilion burn
These fates revolved in his aln'd, Bids hihtning, on the foe