Part 28

Victorious Ithacus his sails unfurls, To seek the land Hypsipylé once rul'd, And Thoäs fam'd. An isle of old disgrac'd By slaughter of its males, to bring the darts, The weapons of Tyrinthius. These obtain'd To Greece, and with their owner brought, at length The furious war was finish'd. Priam falls With Troy; and Priam's more unhappy spouse, To crown her losses, loses human shape; With new-heard barkings shaking foreign climes. Where the long Hellespont's contracted bounds Are seen, Troy blaz'd: nor yet the fires were quench'd. The scanty drops of blood Jove's altar soak'd, Which flow'd from aged Priam. By her locks Dragg'd on, Apollo's priestess vainly stretch'd To lofty heaven her arms. The victor Greeks Tear off the Trojan mothers as they clasp Their country's imag'd gods; and as they cling To flaming temples--an invidious prey. Astyänax is from those turrets flung, Whence erst he wont to view his sire, whose arm Him guarding, and his ancestorial realm In fight, his mother shew'd. And Boreas now Departure urg'd. Swol'n by a favoring breeze The rattling canvas warn'd the sailor crew. "O, Troy! farewel!"--The Trojan matrons cry-- "Hence are we borne."--They kiss their natal soil; And leave the smoking ruins of their domes. Last--mournful object! Hecuba, descry'd Amid her children's graves, the bark ascends. Ulysses' hand her dragg'd, as close she grasp'd Their tombs, and kiss'd their bones which still remain'd. Yet snatch'd she hastily, and bore away Of Hector's ashes some, and in her breast Hugg'd them; and on the top of Hector's tomb Left her grey hairs; her hairs, and flowing tears. Oblation fruitless to his last remains.

Oppos'd to Phrygia, where Troy once was seen, A country stands, where live Bistonia's race: Where Polymnestor, wealthy monarch, rul'd, To whom, O, Polydore! thy cautious sire Thee sent; from Iliüm's battles far remov'd, For safe protection. Wisdom sway'd the king; Save that he sent him store of treasure too, Reward of wickedness; and tempting much His greedy soul. Soon as Troy's fortune sank, Impious the Thracian monarch plung'd his sword In his young charge's throat: as if his crime And body from his sight at once 'twere given To move, he flung him in the dashing main.

Now on the Thracian coast, Atrides moor'd His fleet, till placid were the waves again, And favoring more, the winds. Achilles here, Out from the earth, by sudden rupture rent, Appear'd in 'semblance of his living form: Threatening his brow appear'd, as when so fierce He Agamemnon with rebellious sword Sought to assail.--"Depart ye then, O, Greeks!" He cry'd--"of me unmindful? Is the fame "Of all my yaliant acts with me interr'd? "Treat me not thus. That honors due my tomb "May want not, let Polyxena be given "In sacrifice to soothe Achilles' ghost." He said; his fellows with the ruthless shade Complying, from the mother's bosom tore Her whom she sole had left to cherish. Brave Than female more, the hapless maid was led To the dire tomb in sacrificial pomp. She, of her state still mindful, when before The cruel altar brought; when all prepar'd The savage-urg'd oblation of herself She saw; and Neoptolemus beheld There stand, the steel there grasping; on his face Her eyes firm-fixing, spoke.--"My noble blood "This instant spill. Delay not--plunge thy blade "Or in my throat, or bosom;"--and her throat And bosom, as she spoke she bar'd--"for ne'er "Polyxena, a slavish life had borne. "Yet grateful is this victim to no god! "My only wish, that from my mother dear "May be my death conceal'd: my mother clogs "My final passage; damps the joys of death. "Yet should she wail my death not, but my life. "But distant stand ye all, that to the shades "Inviolate I sink; if what I ask "Be just, let every hand of man avoid "A virgin's touch. Whoe'er your steel prepares "To move propitiatory with my blood, "A victim quite untainted best must please. "And should the final accents that I speak, "(King Priam's daughter, not a captive sues) "My corse unransom'd to my mother give. "Let her not buy the sad sepulchral rites "With gold, but tears. Yet time has been, with gold "I might have been redeem'd."--The princess ceas'd, And save her own no cheek unwet was seen. And ev'n the priest reluctant, and in tears, Op'd by a sudden plunge the offer'd breast. She, to earth sinking, 'neath her tottering limbs, Wore to the last a face unmov'd; ev'n then Her final care was in her fall to veil Limbs that a veil demanded, as she sank; And decent pride of modesty preserve.

The Trojan dames receive her, and recount The woes of Priam's house, the streams of blood That single stock has spent. Thee too, O, maid! They weep; and thee, a royal spouse so late, And royal parent stil'd; pride of the realm Of glorious Asia; now a mournful lot Amid the spoil; whom Ithacus would scorn To own, great Hector hadst thou not brought forth: The name of Hector scarce a master finds, To claim his mother. She, the lifeless trunk Embracing, which had held a soul so brave, Tears pour'd; tears often had she pour'd before, For country, husband, children--now for her Those tears gush'd in the wound; lips press'd to lips; And beat that breast which oft with grievous blows Was punish'd. Sweeping 'mid the clotted blood Her silver'd tresses; all these plaints, and more She utter'd, as she still her bosom rent.

"My child, thy mother's last afflicting grief "(For who is spar'd me?) low, my child, thou ly'st; "And in thy wound, I all my wounds behold. "Yes, lest a single remnant of my race "Unslaughter'd should expire, thou too must bleed. "A female, thee, safe from the sword I thought: "A female, thee the sword has stretch'd in death. "The same Achilles, ruiner of Troy, "Bereaver of my offspring, all destroy'd,-- "Yes, all thy brethren, he, now murders thee! "Yet when by Paris' and Apollo's darts "He fell,--now, surely,--said I,--now no more "Pelides need be dreaded! Yet ev'n now, "Dreadful to me he proves. Inurned, rage "His ashes 'gainst our hapless race; we feel "Ev'n in his grave the anger of this foe. "I fruitful only for Pelides prov'd. "Low lies proud Iliüm, and the public woe, "The heavy ruin ends: if ended yet: "For Troy to me still stands; my sufferings still "Roll endless on. I, late in power so high, "Great in my children, in my husband great, "Am now dragg'd forth in poverty; exil'd "From all my children's tombs; a gift to please "Penelopé; who, while my daily task "She gives to Ithaca's proud dames, will taunt, "And cry;--of Hector, the fam'd mother see! "Lo! Priam's spouse!--And thou who sole wast spar'd "To soothe maternal pangs, so many lost, "Now bleed'st, atonement to an hostile shade: "And funeral victims has my womb produc'd "T' appease a foe. Why holds this stubborn heart? "Why still delay I? What to me avails "This loath'd, this long-protracted life? Why spin, "O, cruel deities! the lengthen'd thread "Of an old wretch, save that she yet may see "More deaths? Who e'er could Priam happy deem, "Iliüm o'erthrown? Yet happy was his death, "Thy sacrifice, my daughter! not to see; "At once of life and realm bereft. Yet sure "O, royal maid! funereal rites await "Thy last remains; thy corse will be inhum'd "In ancestorial sepulchres. Ah, no! "Such fortune smiles not on our house; the tears "A mother can bestow, are all thy gifts; "Sprinkled with foreign dust. All have I lost. "Of the whole stock I could as parent boast, "To tempt me now still longer to sustain "This life, my Polydore alone is left; "Once least of all my manly sons, erst given "To Thracia's monarch's care, upon these shores. "But why delay to cleanse that ghastly wound "With water, and that face, with spouting blood "Besmear'd."--She ceas'd, and bent her tottering steps, With torn and scatter'd locks down to the shore. And as the hapless wretch--"O, Trojans!"--cry'd, "An urn supply to draw the liquid waves;"-- The corse of Polydore, flung on the beach She saw, pierc'd deep with wounds of Thracian steel. Loud shriek'd the Trojan matrons; she by grief Dumb-stricken stood. Affliction keen suppress'd Her rising moans, and ready-springing tears: Stupid, and like a rigid stone she stood. Now on the earth her eyes are fixt; and now To heaven her furious countenance she lifts: Now dwells she on his face, now on the wounds Her son receiv'd, and on the wounds the most: And now her bosom with collected rage Furiously burning, all on vengeance fierce Her soul is bent, as still in power a queen. As storms a lioness robb'd of her cub, The track pursuing of her flying foe, Whom yet she sees not: rage and grief were mixt Just so in Hecuba; of her old years Regardless, mindful of her ire alone. She Polymnestor seeks, of the dire deed The perpetrator, and his ear demands-- That more of gold, intended for her boy, Her wish was to disclose. The Thracian king Heard credulous; lur'd by his wonted love Of gain, with her withdrew, and wily thus; With coaxing words;--"quick, Hecuba!"--exclaim'd, "Give for thy son the treasure. By the gods! "I swear, all shall be his; what more thou giv'st, "And what thou gav'st before."--Him, speaking so, And falsely swearing, savagely she view'd, And her fierce bosom swell'd with double rage. Then instant on him, by the captive dames Fast held, she flies; in his perfidious face Digs deep; her fingers (rage all strength supply'd) Tear from their orbs his eyes; bury'd her hands, Streaming with blood, where once the eyes had been; Widening the wounds, for eyes no more remain'd.

Fir'd at their monarch's fate the Thracian crowd With stones and darts t'attack the queen began. The queen with harsher voice, as they pursue, Bites at th' assailing stones, and, trying words, Barkings her jaws produce. The place remains Nam'd from the change. She, of her ancient woes Long mindful, grieving still, Sithonia's fields With howlings fill'd. Her fate with pity mov'd Her fellow Trojans; and the hostile Greeks; Nay, all the gods above; and all deny, (Ev'n she, the sister-wife of mighty Jove) That Hecuba so harsh a lot deserv'd.

Nor leisure now Aurora had to mourn (Though strong their cause she favor'd) the sad fall, And mournful fate of Hecuba, and Troy. A nearer case, a more domestic woe, The loss of Memnon, wrung the goddess' breast: Whom on the Phrygian plains the mother saw Beneath the weapon of Achilles sink. She saw--that color which the blushing morn Displays, grew pale, and heaven with clouds was hid. Still could the parent not support the sight, Plac'd on the funeral pyre his limbs, but straight With locks dishevell'd, not disdain'd to sue Prostrate before the knees of mighty Jove. These words her tears assisting.--"Meanest I, "Of those the golden heaven supports; to me "The fewest temples through earth's space are rais'd: "Yet still a goddess sues. Not to demand "Temples, nor festal days, nor altars warm'd "With blazing fires; yet if you but behold "What I, a female, for you all atchieve, "Bounding night's confines with new-springing light, "Such boons you might consider but my due. "But these are not my care. Aurora's mind "Not now e'en honors merited demands. "I come, my Memnon lost, who bravely fought, "But vainly, in his uncle Priam's cause: "And in his prime of youth (so will'd your fates) "Fell by the stout Achilles. Lord supreme! "Of all the deities, grant, I beseech "To him some honor, solace of his death; "Allay the smarting of a mother's wounds."

Jove nodded, round the lofty funeral pile Of Memnon, rose th' aspiring flames; black clouds Of smoke the day obscur'd. So streams exhale The rising mists which Phoebus' rays conceal. Mount the black ashes, and conglob'd in one They thicken in a body, and a shape That body takes, and heat and light receives From the bright flames. Its lightness gave it wings: Much like a bird at first, and soon indeed A bird, its pinions sounded. And a crowd Of sister birds, their pinions sounded too; Their origin the same. Thrice they surround The pile, and thrice with noisy clang the air Resounds; the fourth time all the troop divide: Then two and two, they furious wage the war On either side; fierce with their crooked claws And beaks, they pounce their adversary's breast, And tire his wings. Each kindred body falls An offering to the ashes of the dead, And prove their offspring from a valiant man. These birds of sudden origin receive Their name, Memnonides, from him whose limbs Produc'd them. Oft as Sol through all his signs Has run, the battle they renew again, To perish at their parent-warrior's tomb. Thus, while all others Dymas' daughter weep In howling shape, Aurora still on griefs Her own sad brooding, her maternal tears Sprinkles in dew o'er all th' extent of earth.

Yet fate doom'd not with Iliüm's towers the fall Of Iliüm's hopes. The Cythereän prince Bore off his gods; and on his shoulders bore A no less sacred, venerable load, His sire. Of all his riches these preferr'd. The pious hero, with his youthful son Ascanius, from Antandros, o'er the main Borne in the flying fleet, leaves far the shore Of savage Thrace, still moisten'd with the blood Of Polydore, and enters Phoebus' port; Aided by currents, and by gentle gales, With all his social crew. Anius receives The exile, in his temple,--in his dome; Where o'er the land he monarch rul'd; and where, As Phoebus' priest, he tended due his rites: The city, and the votive temples shew'd, And shew'd two trees, once by Latona grasp'd In bearing throes. The incense in the flames Distributed, wine o'er the incense thrown, The entrails of the offer'd bulls consum'd As wont; the regal roof approach they all; And high on tapestry reclin'd, partake Of Ceres' gift, and Bacchus' flowing boon. Then good Anchises, thus--"O chosen priest "Of Phoebus! was I then deceiv'd? methought, "As far as memory aids me to recal, "When first mine eyes these lofty walls beheld, "That twice two daughters, and a son were thine." Old Anius shook his head, begirt around With snowy fillets, as in grief, he said:-- "No, mighty hero! not deceiv'd art thou, "Me hast thou seen of five the parent; now "Thou well-nigh childless see'st me: (such to man "The varying change of sublunary things) "For, ah! what can an absent son bestow "To aid me, who, in Andros' isle now dwells, "Where for his sire the realm and state he holds? "Delius on him prophetic art bestow'd; "And Bacchus, to my female offspring, gave "A boon beyond all credit, and their hopes. "For all whate'er, which felt my daughters' touch "To corn, and wine, and olives, was transformed: "A mighty treasure in themselves they held. "But Agamemnon, Troy's destroyer learn'd "This gift (think not but that your overthrow "In some respect we shar'd,) by ruthless force, "Tore them unwilling from their parent's arms; "And stern commanded that the heavenly gift "Should feed the Grecian fleet. Each as she can "Escapes. Euboeä two attain, and two "Fraternal Andros seek. The troops pursue "And threaten warfare, if withheld the maids. "Fraternal love was vanquish'd in his breast "By fear, (that thou this terror mayst excuse, "Reflect, Æneäs was not there, nor there "Was Hector, Andros to defend, whose arms "To the tenth year made Iliüm stand.) And now "Chains were prepar'd their captive arms to bind. "While yet unchain'd, those arms to heaven they rais'd, "O father Bacchus!--crying--grant thy aid.-- "And aid the author of the gift bestow'd: "If them to lose by an unheard-of mode "Be aid bestowing. Then could I not know, "Nor now relate the order of the change "Which lost their shapes; the summit of my grief "I know; with plumage were they cloth'd; transform'd "To snowy doves, thy spouse's favor'd bird."

With these, and tales like these, the feast was clos'd: The board remov'd, all sought repose. With day Arising, all Apollo's shrine attend; Who bids that they their ancient mother seek, And kindred shores. The king attends them, gives His presents as they go. Anchises holds A sceptre, while a quiver and a robe Ascanius boasts; Æneäs holds a cup, Erst from Boeötia's shores to Anius sent, By Theban Therses. Therses sent the gift; Sicilian Alcon form'd it, and engrav'd A copious tale around. A town was there, And seven wide gates appear'd: for name were these, What town it was displaying. All without Its walls were funeral trains, and tombs beheld; And fires; and piles; and matrons, whose bare breasts, And locks dishevell'd, shew'd their mournful woe. Weeping the nymphs appear'd, and seem'd to wail Their arid streams; the leafless trees were hard; The goats were browsing on the naked rocks: And, lo! amid the Theban town was seen Orion's daughters: this her naked throat Offering, with more than female courage; that On the sharp weapon's point forth leaning, dy'd, To save the people: round the town are borne Their pompous funerals, they in splendor burn. Then, lest the race should perish, spring two youths From out their virgin ashes; which by fame Are call'd Coronæ, and the pomp attend, When their maternal ashes are interr'd.

Thus far the images on ancient brass Were grav'n; the bordering summit of the cup In gold acanthus rough appear'd. Nor gave The Trojans gifts less worthy than they took. To hold his incense, they a vase present The royal priest; a goblet, and a crown, Shining with gold, and bright with sparkling gems.

Thence, mindful that the Trojan race first sprung From Teucer's blood, tow'rd Crete their course they bend: But long Jove's native clime they could not bear. The hundred-city'd isle now left behind, Ausonia's port they hope to gain. Rough swell The wintry storms, and toss them on the main; And in the port of faithless Strophades Receiv'd, the wing'd Aëllo scares them far. Now had they sail'd beyond Dulichium's bay; Samos; and Ithaca, Neritus' soil; The realms Ulysses, so perfidious, sway'd: And saw Ambracia, for the strife of gods Renown'd, and stone to which the judge was chang'd; Now as Apollo's Actium far more fam'd: And saw Dodona's land with vocal groves; And deep Chaonia's bay, where vain-urg'd flames Molossus' sons, on new-sprung pinions 'scap'd. Phæäcia's neighbouring country, planted thick With grateful apples, now they reach; from thence Epirus and Buthrotus, by the seer Of Iliüm govern'd, image true of Troy. Thence of the future certain, full of faith, In all that Helenus of fate them told, Sicilia's isle they enter, which extends Midst of the waves its promontories three. Pachymos, tow'rd the showery south is plac'd; And Zephyr soft on Lilybæum blows: But 'gainst the Arctic bear that shuns the sea, And Boreas' rugged storms, Pelorus looks. By this the Trojans steer; urg'd by their oars, And favoring tide, by night on Zanclé's beach The fleet is moor'd. Here Scylla on the right; Charybdis, restless, on the left alarms. This sucks the destin'd ships beneath the waves, And whirls them up again: fierce dogs surround The other's sable belly, while she bears A virgin's face; and, if what poets tell Be feign'd not all, she had a virgin been.

Her many wooers sought; these all repuls'd, She join'd the ocean nymphs; by ocean's nymphs Much favor'd was the maid; and told the loves Of all the baffled youths. Her, while she gave Her locks to comb, thus Galatea fair, Bespoke, but first suppress'd a rising sigh. "'Tis true, O maid! a gentle race thee seeks, "Whom safely, as thou dost, thou may'st deny: "But I, whose sire is Nereus; who was born "Of blue-hair'd Doris; who am potent too "In crowds of sisters, refuge only found "From the fierce Cyclops' love, in my own waves." Tears chok'd her utterance here; which when the maid Had wip'd with marble fingers, and had sooth'd The goddess.--"Dearest Galatea! speak; "Nor from thy friend this cause of grief conceal: "Faithful am I to thee." The goddess yields, And to Cratæis' daughter, thus replies.

"From Faunus and the nymph Symethis sprung "Acis, his sire's delight, his mother's pride; "But far to me more dear. For me the youth, "And me alone, lov'd warmly; twice eight years "Had o'er him pass'd; when on his tender cheek "A doubtful down appear'd. Him I desir'd, "As ceaseless as the Cyclops sought for me. "Nor should you ask, if in my bosom dwelt "For him most hate, or most for Acis love, "Could I inform you: equal both in force. "O, gentle Venus! with what mighty power "Thou sway'st; lo! he, the merciless, the dread "Of his own woods; whom hapless guest ne'er saw "With safety; spurner of the power of Jove, "And all the host of heaven, what love is, feels! "Seiz'd with desire of me he flames, forgets "His flocks, and caverns. All thy anxious care "Thy beauty, Polyphemus! to improve, "And all thy anxious care is now to please. "And now with rakes thou comb'st thy rugged hair; "Now with a scythe thou mow'st thy bushy beard: "Thy features to behold in the clear brook, "And calm their fire employs thee. All his love "Of slaughter; all his fierceness; all his thirst "Cruel of blood, him leaves; and on the coast, "Ships safely moor, and safe again depart. "Meantime at Etna Telemus arriv'd, "Of Eurymus the son, whom never bird "Deceiv'd; he to dread Polyphemus came, "And spoke:--Thee, of the single light thou bear'st "Mid front, Ulysses will deprive.--Loud laugh'd "The monster, saying;--Stupidest of seers, "How much thou err'st!--already is it gone.-- "So spurns the truth the prophet told in vain. "Then moving on along the shore, he sinks "The sand with heavy steps, or tir'd returns "To his dark caves. Far stretching in the main "A wedge-like promontory rears its ridge "Aloft; on either side the surging waves "Foam on it. To its loftiest height ascends "The Cyclops fierce; his station in the midst "Assumes; his woolly flocks his steps pursue "Unshepherded. He when the pine immense, "Which serv'd him for a staff, though fit to serve "For sailyard, low beneath his feet had thrown; "And grasp'd the pipe, an hundred 'pacted reeds "Compos'd; the pastoral whistling all around "The hills confess'd, and all the waters nigh. "I, hid beneath a rock, my head reclin'd "On my dear Acis' bosom, heard these words--, "And still the words are noted in my breast.--