Chapter 7
ARGUMENT.
THE EPISODES OF GLAUCUS AND DIOMED, AND OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.
The gods having left the field, the Grecians prevail. Helenus, the chief augur of Troy, commands Hector to return to the city, in order to appoint a solemn procession of the queen and the Trojan matrons to the temple of Minerva, to entreat her to remove Diomed from the fight. The battle relaxing during the absence of Hector, Glaucus and Diomed have an interview between the two armies; where, coming to the knowledge, of the friendship and hospitality passed between their ancestors, they make exchange of their arms. Hector, having performed the orders of Helenus, prevails upon Paris to return to the battle, and, taking a tender leave of his wife Andromache, hastens again to the field. The scene is first in the field of battle, between the rivers Simois and Scamander, and then changes to Troy.
Now heaven forsakes the fight: the immortals yield To human force and human skill the field: Dark showers of javelins fly from foes to foes; Now here, now there, the tide of combat flows; While Troy’s famed streams, that bound the deathful plain On either side, run purple to the main.
Great Ajax first to conquest led the way, Broke the thick ranks, and turn’d the doubtful day. The Thracian Acamas his falchion found, And hew’d the enormous giant to the ground; His thundering arm a deadly stroke impress’d Where the black horse-hair nodded o’er his crest; Fix’d in his front the brazen weapon lies, And seals in endless shades his swimming eyes. Next Teuthras’ son distain’d the sands with blood, Axylus, hospitable, rich, and good: In fair Arisbe’s walls (his native place)[161] He held his seat! a friend to human race. Fast by the road, his ever-open door Obliged the wealthy, and relieved the poor. To stern Tydides now he falls a prey, No friend to guard him in the dreadful day! Breathless the good man fell, and by his side His faithful servant, old Calesius died.
By great Euryalus was Dresus slain, And next he laid Opheltius on the plain. Two twins were near, bold, beautiful, and young, From a fair naiad and Bucolion sprung: (Laomedon’s white flocks Bucolion fed, That monarch’s first-born by a foreign bed; In secret woods he won the naiad’s grace, And two fair infants crown’d his strong embrace:) Here dead they lay in all their youthful charms; The ruthless victor stripp’d their shining arms.
Astyalus by Polypœtes fell; Ulysses’ spear Pidytes sent to hell; By Teucer’s shaft brave Aretaon bled, And Nestor’s son laid stern Ablerus dead; Great Agamemnon, leader of the brave, The mortal wound of rich Elatus gave, Who held in Pedasus his proud abode,[162] And till’d the banks where silver Satnio flow’d. Melanthius by Eurypylus was slain; And Phylacus from Leitus flies in vain.
Unbless’d Adrastus next at mercy lies Beneath the Spartan spear, a living prize. Scared with the din and tumult of the fight, His headlong steeds, precipitate in flight, Rush’d on a tamarisk’s strong trunk, and broke The shatter’d chariot from the crooked yoke; Wide o’er the field, resistless as the wind, For Troy they fly, and leave their lord behind. Prone on his face he sinks beside the wheel: Atrides o’er him shakes his vengeful steel; The fallen chief in suppliant posture press’d The victor’s knees, and thus his prayer address’d:
“O spare my youth, and for the life I owe Large gifts of price my father shall bestow. When fame shall tell, that, not in battle slain, Thy hollow ships his captive son detain: Rich heaps of brass shall in thy tent be told,[163] And steel well-temper’d, and persuasive gold.”
He said: compassion touch’d the hero’s heart He stood, suspended with the lifted dart: As pity pleaded for his vanquish’d prize, Stern Agamemnon swift to vengeance flies, And, furious, thus: “Oh impotent of mind![164] Shall these, shall these Atrides’ mercy find? Well hast thou known proud Troy’s perfidious land, And well her natives merit at thy hand! Not one of all the race, nor sex, nor age, Shall save a Trojan from our boundless rage: Ilion shall perish whole, and bury all; Her babes, her infants at the breast, shall fall;[165] A dreadful lesson of exampled fate, To warn the nations, and to curb the great!”
The monarch spoke; the words, with warmth address’d, To rigid justice steel’d his brother’s breast. Fierce from his knees the hapless chief he thrust; The monarch’s javelin stretch’d him in the dust, Then pressing with his foot his panting heart, Forth from the slain he tugg’d the reeking dart. Old Nestor saw, and roused the warrior’s rage; “Thus, heroes! thus the vigorous combat wage; No son of Mars descend, for servile gains, To touch the booty, while a foe remains. Behold yon glittering host, your future spoil! First gain the conquest, then reward the toil.”
And now had Greece eternal fame acquired, And frighted Troy within her walls, retired, Had not sage Helenus her state redress’d, Taught by the gods that moved his sacred breast. Where Hector stood, with great Æneas join’d, The seer reveal’d the counsels of his mind:
“Ye generous chiefs! on whom the immortals lay The cares and glories of this doubtful day; On whom your aids, your country’s hopes depend; Wise to consult, and active to defend! Here, at our gates, your brave efforts unite, Turn back the routed, and forbid the flight, Ere yet their wives’ soft arms the cowards gain, The sport and insult of the hostile train. When your commands have hearten’d every band, Ourselves, here fix’d, will make the dangerous stand; Press’d as we are, and sore of former fight, These straits demand our last remains of might. Meanwhile thou, Hector, to the town retire, And teach our mother what the gods require: Direct the queen to lead the assembled train Of Troy’s chief matrons to Minerva’s fane;[166] Unbar the sacred gates, and seek the power, With offer’d vows, in Ilion’s topmost tower. The largest mantle her rich wardrobes hold, Most prized for art, and labour’d o’er with gold, Before the goddess’ honour’d knees be spread, And twelve young heifers to her altars led: If so the power, atoned by fervent prayer, Our wives, our infants, and our city spare, And far avert Tydides’ wasteful ire, That mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire; Not thus Achilles taught our hosts to dread, Sprung though he was from more than mortal bed; Not thus resistless ruled the stream of fight, In rage unbounded, and unmatch’d in might.”
Hector obedient heard: and, with a bound, Leap’d from his trembling chariot to the ground; Through all his host inspiring force he flies, And bids the thunder of the battle rise. With rage recruited the bold Trojans glow, And turn the tide of conflict on the foe: Fierce in the front he shakes two dazzling spears; All Greece recedes, and ’midst her triumphs fears; Some god, they thought, who ruled the fate of wars, Shot down avenging from the vault of stars.
Then thus aloud: “Ye dauntless Dardans, hear! And you whom distant nations send to war! Be mindful of the strength your fathers bore; Be still yourselves, and Hector asks no more. One hour demands me in the Trojan wall, To bid our altars flame, and victims fall: Nor shall, I trust, the matrons’ holy train, And reverend elders, seek the gods in vain.”
This said, with ample strides the hero pass’d; The shield’s large orb behind his shoulder cast, His neck o’ershading, to his ankle hung; And as he march’d the brazen buckler rung.
Now paused the battle (godlike Hector gone),[167] Where daring Glaucus and great Tydeus’ son Between both armies met: the chiefs from far Observed each other, and had mark’d for war. Near as they drew, Tydides thus began:
“What art thou, boldest of the race of man? Our eyes till now that aspect ne’er beheld, Where fame is reap’d amid the embattled field; Yet far before the troops thou dar’st appear, And meet a lance the fiercest heroes fear. Unhappy they, and born of luckless sires, Who tempt our fury when Minerva fires! But if from heaven, celestial, thou descend, Know with immortals we no more contend. Not long Lycurgus view’d the golden light, That daring man who mix’d with gods in fight. Bacchus, and Bacchus’ votaries, he drove, With brandish’d steel, from Nyssa’s sacred grove: Their consecrated spears lay scatter’d round, With curling vines and twisted ivy bound; While Bacchus headlong sought the briny flood, And Thetis’ arms received the trembling god. Nor fail’d the crime the immortals’ wrath to move; (The immortals bless’d with endless ease above;) Deprived of sight by their avenging doom, Cheerless he breathed, and wander’d in the gloom, Then sunk unpitied to the dire abodes, A wretch accursed, and hated by the gods! I brave not heaven: but if the fruits of earth Sustain thy life, and human be thy birth, Bold as thou art, too prodigal of breath, Approach, and enter the dark gates of death.”
“What, or from whence I am, or who my sire, (Replied the chief,) can Tydeus’ son inquire? Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies; They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay; So flourish these, when those are pass’d away. But if thou still persist to search my birth, Then hear a tale that fills the spacious earth.
“A city stands on Argos’ utmost bound, (Argos the fair, for warlike steeds renown’d,) Æolian Sisyphus, with wisdom bless’d, In ancient time the happy wall possess’d, Then call’d Ephyre: Glaucus was his son; Great Glaucus, father of Bellerophon, Who o’er the sons of men in beauty shined, Loved for that valour which preserves mankind. Then mighty Praetus Argos’ sceptre sway’d, Whose hard commands Bellerophon obey’d. With direful jealousy the monarch raged, And the brave prince in numerous toils engaged. For him Antaea burn’d with lawless flame, And strove to tempt him from the paths of fame: In vain she tempted the relentless youth, Endued with wisdom, sacred fear, and truth. Fired at his scorn the queen to Praetus fled, And begg’d revenge for her insulted bed: Incensed he heard, resolving on his fate; But hospitable laws restrain’d his hate: To Lycia the devoted youth he sent, With tablets seal’d, that told his dire intent.[168] Now bless’d by every power who guards the good, The chief arrived at Xanthus’ silver flood: There Lycia’s monarch paid him honours due, Nine days he feasted, and nine bulls he slew. But when the tenth bright morning orient glow’d, The faithful youth his monarch’s mandate show’d: The fatal tablets, till that instant seal’d, The deathful secret to the king reveal’d. First, dire Chimaera’s conquest was enjoin’d; A mingled monster of no mortal kind! Behind, a dragon’s fiery tail was spread; A goat’s rough body bore a lion’s head; Her pitchy nostrils flaky flames expire; Her gaping throat emits infernal fire.
“This pest he slaughter’d, (for he read the skies, And trusted heaven’s informing prodigies,) Then met in arms the Solymæan crew,[169] (Fiercest of men,) and those the warrior slew; Next the bold Amazons’ whole force defied; And conquer’d still, for heaven was on his side.
“Nor ended here his toils: his Lycian foes, At his return, a treacherous ambush rose, With levell’d spears along the winding shore: There fell they breathless, and return’d no more.
“At length the monarch, with repentant grief, Confess’d the gods, and god-descended chief; His daughter gave, the stranger to detain, With half the honours of his ample reign: The Lycians grant a chosen space of ground, With woods, with vineyards, and with harvests crown’d. There long the chief his happy lot possess’d, With two brave sons and one fair daughter bless’d; (Fair e’en in heavenly eyes: her fruitful love Crown’d with Sarpedon’s birth the embrace of Jove;) But when at last, distracted in his mind, Forsook by heaven, forsaking humankind, Wide o’er the Aleian field he chose to stray, A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way![170] Woes heap’d on woes consumed his wasted heart: His beauteous daughter fell by Phoebe’s dart; His eldest born by raging Mars was slain, In combat on the Solymaean plain. Hippolochus survived: from him I came, The honour’d author of my birth and name; By his decree I sought the Trojan town; By his instructions learn to win renown, To stand the first in worth as in command, To add new honours to my native land, Before my eyes my mighty sires to place, And emulate the glories of our race.”
He spoke, and transport fill’d Tydides’ heart; In earth the generous warrior fix’d his dart, Then friendly, thus the Lycian prince address’d: “Welcome, my brave hereditary guest! Thus ever let us meet, with kind embrace, Nor stain the sacred friendship of our race. Know, chief, our grandsires have been guests of old; Œneus the strong, Bellerophon the bold: Our ancient seat his honour’d presence graced, Where twenty days in genial rites he pass’d. The parting heroes mutual presents left; A golden goblet was thy grandsire’s gift; Œneus a belt of matchless work bestowed, That rich with Tyrian dye refulgent glow’d. (This from his pledge I learn’d, which, safely stored Among my treasures, still adorns my board: For Tydeus left me young, when Thebe’s wall Beheld the sons of Greece untimely fall.) Mindful of this, in friendship let us join; If heaven our steps to foreign lands incline, My guest in Argos thou, and I in Lycia thine. Enough of Trojans to this lance shall yield, In the full harvest of yon ample field; Enough of Greeks shall dye thy spear with gore; But thou and Diomed be foes no more. Now change we arms, and prove to either host We guard the friendship of the line we boast.”
Thus having said, the gallant chiefs alight, Their hands they join, their mutual faith they plight; Brave Glaucus then each narrow thought resign’d, (Jove warm’d his bosom, and enlarged his mind,) For Diomed’s brass arms, of mean device, For which nine oxen paid, (a vulgar price,) He gave his own, of gold divinely wrought,[171] A hundred beeves the shining purchase bought.
Meantime the guardian of the Trojan state, Great Hector, enter’d at the Scæan gate.[172] Beneath the beech-tree’s consecrated shades, The Trojan matrons and the Trojan maids Around him flock’d, all press’d with pious care For husbands, brothers, sons, engaged in war. He bids the train in long procession go, And seek the gods, to avert the impending woe. And now to Priam’s stately courts he came, Rais’d on arch’d columns of stupendous frame; O’er these a range of marble structure runs, The rich pavilions of his fifty sons, In fifty chambers lodged: and rooms of state,[173] Opposed to those, where Priam’s daughters sate. Twelve domes for them and their loved spouses shone, Of equal beauty, and of polish’d stone. Hither great Hector pass’d, nor pass’d unseen Of royal Hecuba, his mother-queen. (With her Laodice, whose beauteous face Surpass’d the nymphs of Troy’s illustrious race.) Long in a strict embrace she held her son, And press’d his hand, and tender thus begun:
“O Hector! say, what great occasion calls My son from fight, when Greece surrounds our walls; Com’st thou to supplicate the almighty power With lifted hands, from Ilion’s lofty tower? Stay, till I bring the cup with Bacchus crown’d, In Jove’s high name, to sprinkle on the ground, And pay due vows to all the gods around. Then with a plenteous draught refresh thy soul, And draw new spirits from the generous bowl; Spent as thou art with long laborious fight, The brave defender of thy country’s right.”
“Far hence be Bacchus’ gifts; (the chief rejoin’d;) Inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind, Unnerves the limbs, and dulls the noble mind. Let chiefs abstain, and spare the sacred juice To sprinkle to the gods, its better use. By me that holy office were profaned; Ill fits it me, with human gore distain’d, To the pure skies these horrid hands to raise, Or offer heaven’s great Sire polluted praise. You, with your matrons, go! a spotless train, And burn rich odours in Minerva’s fane. The largest mantle your full wardrobes hold, Most prized for art, and labour’d o’er with gold, Before the goddess’ honour’d knees be spread, And twelve young heifers to her altar led. So may the power, atoned by fervent prayer, Our wives, our infants, and our city spare; And far avert Tydides’ wasteful ire, Who mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire. Be this, O mother, your religious care: I go to rouse soft Paris to the war; If yet not lost to all the sense of shame, The recreant warrior hear the voice of fame. Oh, would kind earth the hateful wretch embrace, That pest of Troy, that ruin of our race![174] Deep to the dark abyss might he descend, Troy yet should flourish, and my sorrows end.”
This heard, she gave command: and summon’d came Each noble matron and illustrious dame. The Phrygian queen to her rich wardrobe went, Where treasured odours breathed a costly scent. There lay the vestures of no vulgar art, Sidonian maids embroider’d every part, Whom from soft Sidon youthful Paris bore, With Helen touching on the Tyrian shore. Here, as the queen revolved with careful eyes The various textures and the various dyes, She chose a veil that shone superior far, And glow’d refulgent as the morning star. Herself with this the long procession leads; The train majestically slow proceeds. Soon as to Ilion’s topmost tower they come, And awful reach the high Palladian dome, Antenor’s consort, fair Theano, waits As Pallas’ priestess, and unbars the gates. With hands uplifted and imploring eyes, They fill the dome with supplicating cries. The priestess then the shining veil displays, Placed on Minerva’s knees, and thus she prays:
“Oh awful goddess! ever-dreadful maid, Troy’s strong defence, unconquer’d Pallas, aid! Break thou Tydides’ spear, and let him fall Prone on the dust before the Trojan wall! So twelve young heifers, guiltless of the yoke, Shall fill thy temple with a grateful smoke. But thou, atoned by penitence and prayer, Ourselves, our infants, and our city spare!” So pray’d the priestess in her holy fane; So vow’d the matrons, but they vow’d in vain.
While these appear before the power with prayers, Hector to Paris’ lofty dome repairs.[175] Himself the mansion raised, from every part Assembling architects of matchless art. Near Priam’s court and Hector’s palace stands The pompous structure, and the town commands. A spear the hero bore of wondrous strength, Of full ten cubits was the lance’s length, The steely point with golden ringlets join’d, Before him brandish’d, at each motion shined Thus entering, in the glittering rooms he found His brother-chief, whose useless arms lay round, His eyes delighting with their splendid show, Brightening the shield, and polishing the bow. Beside him Helen with her virgins stands, Guides their rich labours, and instructs their hands.
Him thus inactive, with an ardent look The prince beheld, and high-resenting spoke. “Thy hate to Troy, is this the time to show? (O wretch ill-fated, and thy country’s foe!) Paris and Greece against us both conspire, Thy close resentment, and their vengeful ire. For thee great Ilion’s guardian heroes fall, Till heaps of dead alone defend her wall, For thee the soldier bleeds, the matron mourns, And wasteful war in all its fury burns. Ungrateful man! deserves not this thy care, Our troops to hearten, and our toils to share? Rise, or behold the conquering flames ascend, And all the Phrygian glories at an end.”
“Brother, ’tis just, (replied the beauteous youth,) Thy free remonstrance proves thy worth and truth: Yet charge my absence less, O generous chief! On hate to Troy, than conscious shame and grief: Here, hid from human eyes, thy brother sate, And mourn’d, in secret, his and Ilion’s fate. ’Tis now enough; now glory spreads her charms, And beauteous Helen calls her chief to arms. Conquest to-day my happier sword may bless, ’Tis man’s to fight, but heaven’s to give success. But while I arm, contain thy ardent mind; Or go, and Paris shall not lag behind.”