Classic Poem

The stern fight freed of al the Gods, conquest with doubtful wings
Flew on their lances: everie way the restlesse field she flings
Betwixt the floods of Simois and Xanthus, that confin'd
All their affaires at Ilion and round about them shin'd.
The first that weigh'd downe all the field of one particular side
Was Ajax, sonne of Telamon, who like a bulwarke plide
The Greekes' protection and of Troy the knottie orders brake,
Held out a light to all the rest and shew'd them how to make
Way to their conquest: he did wound the strongest man of Thrace,
The tallest and the biggest set, Eussorian Acamas;
His lance fell on his caske's plum'd top in stooping; the fell head
Drave through his forehead to his jawes; his eyes Night shadowed.
Tydides slue Teuthranides Axylus that did dwell
In faire Arisbe's well-built towres. He had of wealth a Well
And yet was kind and bountifull: he would a traveller pray
To be his guest; his friendly house stood in the brode high way,
In which he all sorts nobly usd—yet none of them would stand
Twixt him and death, but both himselfe and he that had command
Of his faire horse, Calesius, fell livelesse on the ground.
Euryalus, Opheltius and Dresus dead did wound,
Nor ended there his fierie course, which he againe begins
And ran to it succesfully upon a paire of twins,
Æsepus and bold Pedasus, whom good Bucolion
(That first cald father, though base borne, renowm'd Laomedon)
On Nais Abarbarea got, a Nymph that (as she fed
Her curled flocks) Bucolion woo'd and mixt in love and bed.
Both these were spoild of armes and life by Mecistiades.
Then Polypœtes for sterne death Astyalus did seise;
Ulysses slue Percosius; Teucer, Aretaon;
Antilochus (old Nestor's joy) Ablerus; the great sonne
Of Atreus and king of men, Elatus, whose abode
He held at upper Pedasus where Satnius' river flow'd.
The great Heroe Leitus staid Phylacus in flight
From further life; Eurypylus, Melanthius reft of light.
The brother to the king of men Adrestus tooke alive,
Whose horse (affrighted with the flight) their driver now did drive
Amongst the low-growne Tamricke trees, and at an arme of one
The chariot in the draught-tree brake, the horse brake loose and ron
The same way other flyers fled, contending all to towne.
Himselfe close at the chariot wheele upon his face was throwne
And there lay flat roll'd up in dust. Atrides inwards drave,
And (holding at his breast his lance) Adrestus sought to save
His head by losing of his feet and trusting to his knees,
On which the same parts of the king he hugs and offers fees
Of worthie value for his life, and thus pleades their receipt:
‘Take me alive, O Atreus' sonne, and take a worthie weight
Of brasse, elaborate iron and gold; a heape of precious things
Are in my father's riches hid, which (when your servant brings
Newes of my safetie to his eares) he largely will divide
With your rare bounties.’ Atreus' sonne thought this the better side
And meant to take it, being about to send him safe to fleete—
Which when (farre off) his brother saw, he wing'd his royall feet
And came in threatning, crying out: ‘O soft heart; what's the cause
Thou spar'st these men thus? Have not they observ'd these gentle lawes
Of mild humanitie to thee with mightie argument
Why thou shouldst deale thus? In thy house and with all president
Of honord guest-rites entertaind? Not one of them shall flie
A bitter end for it from heaven, and much lesse (dotingly)
Scape our revengefull fingers: all, even th' infant in the wombe
Shall tast of what they merited and have no other tombe
Than razed Ilion, nor their race have more fruite than the dust.’
This just cause turnd his brother's mind, who violently thrust
The prisoner from him, in whose guts the king of men imprest
His ashen lance, which (pitching downe his foote upon the brest
Of him that upwards fell) he drew. Then Nestor spake to all:
‘O friends and household men of Mars, let not your pursuit fall
With those ye fell for present spoile; nor (like the king of men)
Let any scape unfeld: but on, dispatch them all and then
Ye shall have time enough to spoile.’ This made so strong their chace
That all the Troyans had bene housd and never turnd a face
Had not the Priamist Helenus (an Augure most of name)
Will'd Hector and Æneas thus: ‘Hector! Anchises' fame!
Since on your shoulders, with good cause, the weightie burthen lies
Of Troy and Lycia (being both of noblest faculties
For counsell, strength of hand, and apt to take chance at her best
In every turne she makes) stand fast and suffer not the rest
(By any way searcht out for scape) to come within the ports,
Lest (fled into their wives' kind armes) they there be made the sports
Of the pursuing enemie: exhort and force your bands
To turne their faces, and, while we employ our ventur'd hands
(Though in a hard condition) to make the other stay,
Hector, go thou to Ilion and our Queene mother pray
To take the richest robe she hath, the same that's chiefly deare
To her Court fancie, with which Jemme (assembling more to her
Of Troy's chiefe Matrones) let all go (for feare of all our fates)
To Pallas' temple, take the key, unlocke the leavie gates,
Enter and reach the highest towre where her Palladium stands,
And on it put the precious veile with pure and reverend hands
And vow to her (besides the gift) a sacrificing stroke
Of twelve fat Heifers of a yeare that never felt the yoke
(Most answering to her maiden state) if she will pittie us,
Our towne, our wives, our yongest joyes, and him that plagues them thus
Take from the conflict, Diomed, that Furie in a fight,
That true sonne of great Tydeus, that cunning Lord of Flight,
Whom I esteeme the strongest Greeke—for we have never fled
Achilles (that is Prince of men and whom a Goddesse bred)
Like him, his furie flies so high and all men's wraths commands.’
Hector intends his brother's will, but first through all his bands
He made quicke way, encouraging and all to feare affraide:
All turnd their heads and made Greece turne. Slaughter stood still dismaid
On their parts, for they thought some God, falne from the vault of starres,
Was rusht into the Ilians' aide, they made such dreadfull warres.
Thus Hector, toyling in the waves and thrusting backe the flood
Of his ebb'd forces, thus takes leave: ‘So, so, now runs your blood
In his right current. Forwards now, Troyans and farre-cald friends!
Awhile hold out till, for successe to this your brave amends,
I haste to Ilion and procure our Counsellours and wives
To pray and offer Hecatombs for their states in our lives.’
Then faire-helm'd Hector turnd to Troy and (as he trode the field)
The blacke Bul's hide that at his backe he wore about his shield
(In the extreme circumference) was with his gate so rockt
That (being large) it (both at once) his necke and ankles knockt.
And now betwixt the hosts were met Hippolochus' brave sonne
Glaucus, who in his verie looke hope of some wonder wonne,
And little Tydeus' mightie heire, who, seeing such a man
Offer the field (for usuall blowes), with wondrous words began:
‘What art thou, strongst of mortall men, that putst so farre before,
Whom these fights never shew'd mine eyes? They have bene evermore
Sonnes of unhappie parents borne that came within the length
Of this Minerva-guided lance and durst close with the strength
That she inspires in me. If heaven be thy divine abode
And thou a Deitie, thus inform'd no more with any God
Will I change lances. The strong sonne of Dryas did not live
Long after such a conflict dar'd, who godlesly did drive
Nysæus' Nurses through the hill made sacred to his name
And cald Nyseius; with a goade he puncht each furious dame
And made them every one cast downe their greene and leavie speares.
This th' homicide Lycurgus did, and those ungodly feares
He put the Froes in seised their God. Even Bacchus he did drive
From his Nyseius, who was faine (with huge exclaimes) to dive
Into the Ocean: Thetis there in her bright bosome tooke
The flying Deitie, who so feard Lycurgus' threats he shooke.
For which the freely-living Gods so highly were incenst
That Saturn's great sonne strooke him blind and with his life dispenc't
But small time after—all because th' immortals lov'd him not,
Nor lov'd him since he striv'd with them. And his end hath begot
Feare in my powres to fight with heaven. But if the fruits of earth
Nourish thy bodie and thy life be of our humane birth,
Come neare that thou maist soone arrive on that life-bounding shore
To which I see thee hoise such saile.’ ‘Why dost thou so explore,’
Said Glaucus, ‘of what race I am, when like the race of leaves
The race of man is, that deserves no question? Nor receives
My being any other breath. The wind in Autumne strowes
The earth with old leaves; then the Spring the woods with new endowes—
And so death scatters men on earth, so life puts out againe
Man's leavie issue. But my race, if (like the course of men)
Thou seekst in more particular termes, tis this (to many knowne):—
‘In midst of Argos, nurse of horse, there stands a walled towne
Ephyré, where the Mansion house of Sisyphus did stand,
Of Sisyphus Æolides, most wise of all the land.
Glaucus was sonne to him and he begat Bellerophon,
Whose bodie heaven endued with strength and put a beautie on
Exceeding lovely. Prœtus yet his cause of love did hate
And banisht him the towne: he might—he ruld the Argive state;
The vertue of the one Jove plac't beneath the other's powre.
His exile grew since he denied to be the Paramour
Of faire Anteia, Prœtus' wife, who felt a raging fire
Of secret love to him; but he, whom wisedome did inspire
As well as prudence (one of them advising him to shunne
The danger of a Princesse' love, the other not to runne
Within the danger of the Gods, the act being simply ill),
Still entertaining thoughts divine, subdu'd the earthly still.
She (rul'd by neither of his wits) preferd her lust to both
And (false to Prœtus) would seeme true with this abhorr'd untroth:
“Prœtus, or die thy selfe,” said she, “or let Bellerophon die.
He urg'd dishonour to thy bed, which since I did denie
He thought his violence should grant—and sought thy shame by force.”
The king, incenst with her report, resolv'd upon her course
But doubted how it should be runne: he shund his death direct
(Holding a way so neare not safe) and plotted the effect
By sending him with letters seald (that, opened, touch his life)
To Rheuns, King of Lycia and father to his wife.
He went, and happily he went: the Gods walkt all his way.
And being arriv'd in Lycia, where Xanthus doth display
The silver ensignes of his waves, the king of that brode land
Receiv'd him with a wondrous free and honourable hand.
Nine daies he feasted him and kild an Oxe in every day
In thankfull sacrifice to heaven for his faire guest, whose stay
With rosie fingers brought the world the tenth wel-welcomd morne.
And then the king did move to see the letters he had borne
From his lov'd sonne in law, which seene, he wrought thus their conten's:
Chimæra the invincible he sent him to convince—
Sprung from no man but meere divine; a Lyon's shape before.
Behind a dragon's, in the midst a Gote's shagg'd forme she bore,
And flames of deadly fervencie flew from her breath and eyes.
Yet her he slue: his confidence in sacred prodigies
Renderd him victor. Then he gave his second conquest way
Against the famous Solymi, when (he himselfe would say,
Reporting it) he enterd on a passing vigorous fight.
His third huge labour he approv'd against a woman's spight
That fild a field of Amazons: he overcame them all.
Then set they on him slie Deceipt when Force had such a fall.
An ambush of the strongest men that spacious Lycia bred
Was lodg'd for him—whom he lodg'd sure: they never raisd a head.
‘His deeds thus shewing him deriv'd from some Celestiall race,
The king detaind and made amends with doing him the grace
Of his faire daughter's Princely gift, and with her (for a dowre)
Gave halfe his kingdome, and to this the Lycians on did powre
More than was given to any king—a goodly planted field,
In some parts thicke of groves and woods, the rest rich crops did yeeld.
This field the Lycians futurely (of future wandrings there
And other errors of their Prince in the unhappie Rere
Of his sad life) the Errant cald. The Princesse brought him forth
Three children (whose ends griev'd him more, the more they were of worth),
Isander and Hippolochus and faire Laodamy,
With whom even Jupiter himselfe left heaven it selfe to lie
And had by her the man at armes Sarpedon, cald divine.
The Gods then left him (lest a man should in their glories shine)
And set against him: for his sonne Isandrus (in a strife
Against the valiant Solymi) Mars reft of light and life;
Laodamia (being envied of all the Goddesses)
The golden-bridle-handling Queene, the maiden Patronesse,
Slue with an arrow. And for this he wandred evermore
Alone through his Aleian field and fed upon the core
Of his sad bosome, flying all the loth'd consorts of men.
Yet had he one surviv'd to him of those three childeren,
Hippolochus, the root of me, who sent me here with charge
That I should alwaies beare me well and my deserts enlarge
Beyond the vulgar lest I sham'd my race, that farre exceld
All that Ephyre's famous towres or ample Lycia held.
This is my stocke, and this am I.’ This cheard Tydides' heart,
Who pitcht his speare downe, leand and talkt in this affectionate part:
‘Certesse, in thy great Ancestor and in mine owne thou art
A guest of mine right ancient. King OEneus twentie daies
Detaind with feasts Bellerophon, whom all the world did praise;
Betwixt whom mutuall gifts were given: my Grandsire gave to thine
A girdle of Phœnician worke, impurpl'd wondrous fine;
Thine gave a two-neckt Jugge of gold which, though I use not here,
Yet still it is my gemme at home. But if our fathers were
Familiar or each other knew, I know not, since my sire
Left me a child at siege of Thebes, where he left his life's fire.
But let us prove our Grandsires' sonnes and be each others' guests.
To Lycia when I come, do thou receive thy friend with feasts;
Peloponnesus with the like shall thy wisht presence greet.
Meane space shun we each other here, though in the preasse we meet.
There are enow of Troy beside, and men enough renownd,
To right my powres, whom ever heaven shall let my lance confound.
So are there of the Greeks for thee; kill who thou canst; and now
For signe of amitie twixt us and that all these may know
We glorie in th' hospitious rites our Grandsires did commend,
Change we our armes before them all. From horse then both descend,
Joyne hands, give faith and take.’ And then did Jupiter elate
The mind of Glaucus, who, to shew his reverence to the state
Of vertue in his grandsire's heart and gratulate beside
The offer of so great a friend, exchang'd (in that good pride)
Curets of gold for those of brasse that did on Diomed shine—
One of a hundred Oxens' price, the other but of nine.
By this had Hector reacht the ports of Scæa and the tow'rs.
About him flockt the wives of Troy, the children, paramours,
Enquiring how their husbands did, their fathers, brothers, loves.
He stood not then to answer them, but said: ‘It now behoves
Ye should go all t' implore the aide of heaven in a distresse
Of great effect and imminent.’ Then hasted he accesse
To Priam's goodly builded Court, which round about was runne
With walking porches, galleries, to keepe off raine and Sunne.
Within, of one side, on a rew, of sundrie colourd stones,
Fiftie faire lodgings were built out for Priam's fiftie sonnes,
And of as faire sort for their wives; and in the opposite view
Twelve lodgings of like stone, like height, were likewise built arew,
Where with their faire and vertuous wives twelve Princes, sons in law
To honourable Priam, lay. And here met Hecuba
(The loving mother) her great sonne, and with her needs must be
The fairest of her femall race, the bright Laodice.
The Queene grip't hard her Hector's hand and said: ‘O worthiest sonne,
Why leav'st thou field? Is't not because the cursed nation
Afflict our countrimen and friends? They are their mones that move
Thy mind to come and lift thy hands (in his high towre) to Jove.
But stay a little that my selfe may fetch our sweetest wine
To offer first to Jupiter, then that these joynts of thine
May be refresht—for (wo is me) how thou art toyld and spent!
Thou for our citie's generall state, thou for our friends farre sent,
Must now the preasse of fight endure, now solitude to call
Upon the name of Jupiter, thou onely for us all.
But wine will something comfort thee, for to a man dismaid,
With carefull spirits, or too much with labour overlaid,
Wine brings much rescue, strengthning much the bodie and the mind.’
The great Helme-mover thus receiv'd the authresse of his kind:
‘My royall mother, bring no wine, lest rather it impaire
Than helpe my strength and make my mind forgetfull of th' affaire
Committed to it. And (to poure it out in sacrifice)
I feare with unwasht hands to serve the pure-liv'd Deities;
Nor is it lawfull, thus imbrew'd with blood and dust, to prove
The will of heaven or offer vowes to clowd-compelling Jove.
I onely come to use your paines (assembling other Dames,
Matrons and women honourd most with high and vertuous names)
With wine and odors, and a robe most ample, most of price
And which is dearest in your love, to offer sacrifice
In Pallas' temple, and to put the precious robe ye beare
On her Palladium, vowing all twelve Oxen of a yeare
Whose necks were never wrung with yoke shall pay her Grace their lives
If she will pittie our sieg'd towne, pittie our selves, our wives,
Pittie our children, and remove from sacred Ilion
The dreadfull souldier Diomed. And when your selves are gone
About this worke, my selfe will go to call into the field
(If he will heare me) Helen's love, whom would the earth would yeeld
And headlong take into her gulfe even quicke before mine eyes,
For then my heart, I hope, would cast her lode of miseries.
Borne for the plague he hath bene borne and bred to the deface
(By great Olympius) of Troy, our Sire and all our race.’
This said, grave Hecuba went home and sent her maids about
To bid the Matrones; she her selfe descended and searcht out
(Within a place that breath'd perfumes) the richest robe she had,
Which lay with many rich ones more, most curiously made
By women of Sidonia, which Paris brought from thence,
Sailing the brode Sea when he made that voyage of offence
In which he brought home Helena. That robe, transferd so farre
(That was the undermost) she tooke: it glitterd like a starre:
And with it went she to the Fane with many Ladies more,
Amongst whom faire-cheekt Theano unlockt the folded dore,
Chaste Theano, Antenor's wife and of Cisseus' race,
Sister to Hecuba, both borne to that great king of Thrace.
Her th' Ilians made Minerva's Priest, and her they followed all
Up to the Temple's highest towre, where on their knees they fall,
Lift up their hands and fill the Fane with Ladies' pitious cries.
Then lovely Theano tooke the veile and with it she implies
The great Palladium, praying thus: ‘Goddesse of most renowne
In all the heaven of Goddesses! great guardian of our towne!
Reverend Minerva! breake the lance of Diomed, ceasse his grace,
Give him to fall in shamefull flight, headlong and on his face,
Before our ports of Ilion—that instantly we may
Twelve unyok't Oxen of a yeare in this thy Temple slay
To thy sole honor. Take their bloods and banish our offence,
Accept Troy's zeale, her wives, and save our infants' innocence.’
She praid, but Pallas would not grant. Meane space was Hector come
Where Alexander's lodgings were, that many a goodly roome
Had built in them by Architects of Troy's most curious sort,
And were no lodgings, but a house; nor no house, but a Court—
Or had all these containd in them; and all within a towre,
Next Hector's lodgings and the king's. The lov'd of heaven's chiefe powre
(Hector) here entred. In his hand a goodly lance he bore,
Ten cubits long; the brasen head went shining in before,
Helpt with a burnisht ring of gold. He found his brother then
Amongst the women, yet prepar'd to go amongst the men.
For in their chamber he was set trimming his armes, his shield,
His curets, and was trying how his crooked bow would yeeld
To his streight armes. Amongst her maids was set the Argive Queene,
Commanding them in choisest workes. When Hector's eye had seene
His brother thus accompanied, and that he could not beare
The verie touching of his armes but where the women were,
And when the time so needed men, right cunningly he chid.
That he might do it bitterly, his cowardise he hid
(That simply made him so retir'd) beneath an anger, faind
In him by Hector, for the hate the citizens sustaind
Against him for the foile he tooke in their cause, and againe
For all their generall foiles in his. So Hector seemes to plaine
Of his wrath to them for their hate and not his cowardise
As that were it that shelterd him in his effeminacies
And kept him in that dangerous time from their fit aid in fight:
For which he chid thus: ‘Wretched man! so timelesse is thy spight
That tis not honest, and their hate is just gainst which it bends.
Warre burns about the towne for thee; for thee our slaughterd friends
Besiege Troy with their carkasses, on whose heapes our high wals
Are overlookt by enemies; the sad sounds of their fals
Without are eccho'd with the cries of wives and babes within—
And all for thee. And yet for them thy honor cannot win
Head of thine anger. Thou shouldst need no spirit to stirre up thine
But thine should set the rest on fire, and with a rage divine
Chastise impartially the best that impiously forbeares.
Come forth, lest thy faire towers and Troy be burnd about thine eares.’
Paris acknowledg'd (as before) all just that Hector spake,
Allowing justice, though it were for his injustice sake;
And where his brother put a wrath upon him by his art,
He takes it (for his honor's sake) as sprung out of his hart,
And rather would have anger seeme his fault than cowardise.
And thus he answerd: ‘Since with right you joynd checke with advise
And I heare you, give equall eare. It is not any spleene
Against the Towne (as you conceive) that makes me so unseene,
But sorrow for it, which to ease and by discourse digest
(Within my selfe) I live so close; and yet, since men might wrest
My sad retreat like you, my wife (with her advice) inclinde
This my addression to the field, which was mine owne free minde
As well as th' instance of her words: for, though the foyle were mine,
Conquest brings forth her wreaths by turnes. Stay then this hast of thine
But till I arme, and I am made a consort for thee streight:
Or go—I'le overtake thy haste.’ Helen stood at receipt
And tooke up all great Hector's powers t' attend her heavie words,
By which had Paris no reply: this vent her griefe affords:
‘Brother (if I may call you so, that had bene better borne
A dog than such a horride Dame as all men curse and scorne,
A mischiefe-maker, a man-plague), O would to God the day
That first gave light to me had bene a whirlwind in my way,
And borne me to some desert hill, or hid me in the rage
Of earth's most far-resounding seas, ere I should thus engage
The deare lives of so many friends: yet, since the Gods have beene
Helplesse foreseers of my plagues, they might have likewise seene
That he they put in yoke with me, to beare out their award,
Had bene a man of much more spirit, and, or had noblier dar'd
To shield mine honour with his deed or with his mind had knowne
Much better the upbraids of men, that so he might have showne
(More like a man) some sence of griefe for both my shame and his.
But he is senslesse, nor conceives what any manhood is,
Nor now, nor ever after will; and therefore hangs, I feare,
A plague above him. But come neare, good brother, rest you here
Who (of the world of men) stands charg'd with most unrest for me
(Vile wretch) and for my Lover's wrong—on whom a destinie
So bitter is imposde by Jove that all succeeding times
Will put (to our un-ended shames) in all men's mouthes our crimes.’
He answerd: ‘Helen, do not seeke to make me sit with thee.
I must not stay, though well I know thy honourd love of me.
My mind cals forth to aid our friends, in whom my absence breeds
Longings to see me—for whose sakes importune thou to deeds
This man by all meanes, that your care may make his owne make hast
And meete me in the open towne, that all may see at last
He minds his lover. I my selfe will now go home and see
My houshold, my deare wife and sonne, that little hope of me.
For, sister, tis without my skill if I shall ever more
Returne and see them, or to earth her right in me restore.
The Gods may stoupe me by the Greekes.’ This said, he went to see
The vertuous Princesse, his true wife, white-arm'd Andromache.
She (with her infant sonne and maide) was climb'd the towre, about
The sight of him that fought for her, weeping and crying out.
Hector, not finding her at home, was going forth, retir'd,
Stood in the gate, her woman cald and curiously enquir'd
Where she was gone, bad tell him true if she were gone to see
His sisters or his brothers' wives, or whether she should be
At Temple with the other Dames t' implore Minerva's ruth.
Her woman answerd: since he askt and urg'd so much the truth,
The truth was she was neither gone to see his brothers' wives,
His sisters, nor t' implore the ruth of Pallas on their lives,
But she (advertisde of the bane Troy sufferd and how vast
Conquest had made her selfe for Greece), like one distraught, made hast
To ample Ilion with her sonne and Nurse, and all the way
Mournd and dissolv'd in teares for him. Then Hector made no stay
But trod her path and through the streets (magnificently built)
All the great Citie past and came where (seeing how bloud was spilt)
Andromache might see him come, who made as he would passe
The ports without saluting her, not knowing where she was.
She, with his sight, made breathlesse hast to meet him, she, whose grace
Brought him withall so great a dowre, she that of all the race
Of King Eetion onely liv'd—Eetion whose house stood
Beneath the mountaine Placius, environd with the wood
Of Theban Hypoplace, being Court to the Cilician land.
She ran to Hector and with her (tender of heart and hand)
Her sonne borne in his Nurse's armes, when like a heavenly signe
Compact of many golden starres the princely child did shine,
Whom Hector cald Scamandrius but whom the towne did name
Astyanax because his sire did onely prop the same.
Hector, though griefe bereft his speech, yet smil'd upon his joy.
Andromache cride out, mixt hands and to the strength of Troy
Thus wept forth her affection: ‘O noblest in desire,
Thy mind, inflam'd with others' good, will set thy selfe on fire,
Nor pitiest thou thy sonne, nor wife, who must thy widdow be
If now thou issue: all the field will onely run on thee.
Better my shoulders underwent the earth than thy decease,
For then would earth beare joyes no more—then comes the blacke increase
Of griefes (like Greeks on Ilion). Alas, what one survives
To be my refuge? One blacke day bereft seven brothers' lives
By sterne Achilles; by his hand my father breath'd his last;
His high-wald rich Cilician Thebes sackt by him and laid wast.
The royall bodie yet he left unspoild—Religion charm'd
That act of spoile—and all in fire he burnd him compleat arm'd
Built over him a royall tombe, and to the monument
He left of him th' Oreades (that are the high descent
Of Ægis-bearing Jupiter) another of their owne
Did adde to it and set it round with Elms: by which is showne
(In theirs) the barrennesse of death; yet might it serve beside
To shelter the sad Monument from all the ruffinous pride
Of stormes and tempests, usde to hurt things of that noble kind.
The short life yet my mother liv'd he sav'd, and serv'd his mind
With all the riches of the Realme, which not enough esteemd,
He kept her prisoner, whom small time but much more wealth redeemd,
And she in sylvane Hypoplace Cilicia rul'd againe,
But soone was over-rul'd by death—Diana's chast disdaine
Gave her a Lance and tooke her life. Yet all these gone from me
Thou amply renderst all: thy life makes still my father be,
My mother, brothers—and besides thou art my husband too,
Most lov'd, most worthy. Pitie then, deare love, and do not go,
For, thou gone, all these go againe: pitie our common joy,
Lest (of a father's patronage, the bulwarke of all Troy)
Thou leav'st him a poore widdowe's charge: stay, stay then, in this Towre
And call up to the wilde Fig-tree all thy retired powre,
For there the wall is easiest seal'd and fittest for surprise:
And there th' Ajaces, Idomen, th' Atrides, Diomed thrise
Have both survaid and made attempt—I know not if induc'd
By some wise Augure, or the fact was naturally infusd
Into their wits or courages.’ To this great Hector said:
‘Be well assur'd, wife, all these things in my kind cares are waid
But what a shame and feare it is to thinke how Troy would scorne
(Both in her husbands and her wives, whom long-traind gownes adorne)
That I should cowardly flie off! The spirit I first did breath
Did never teach me that—much lesse since the contempt of death
Was settl'd in me and my mind knew what a Worthy was,
Whose office is to leade in fight and give no danger passe
Without improvement. In this fire must Hector's triall shine.
Here must his country, father, friends be in him made divine.
And such a stormy day shall come, in mind and soule I know,
When sacred Troy shall shed her towres for teares of overthrow,
When Priam, all his birth and powre, shall in those teares be drownd.
But neither Troy's posteritie so much my soule doth wound—
Priam, nor Hecuba her selfe, nor all my brothers' woes
(Who, though so many and so good, must all be food for foes)—
As thy sad state, when some rude Greeke shall leade thee weeping hence,
These free dayes clouded and a night of captive violence
Loding thy temples, out of which thine eyes must never see
But spin the Greeke wives webs of taske and their Fetch-water be
To Argos, from Messeides, or cleare Hyperia's spring—
Which (howsoever thou abhorst) Fate's such a shrewish thing
She will be mistris, whose curst hands, when they shall crush out cries
From thy oppressions (being beheld by other enemies)
Thus they will nourish thy extremes: “This dame was Hector's wife,
A man that, at the warres of Troy, did breathe the worthiest life
Of all their armie.” This againe will rub thy fruitfull wounds
To misse the man that to thy bands could give such narrow bounds.
But that day shall not wound mine eyes: the solide heape of night
Shall interpose and stop mine eares against thy plaints and plight.’
This said, he reacht to take his sonne, who (of his armes afraid,
And then the horse-haire plume, with which he was so overlaid,
Nodded so horribly) he clingd backe to his nurse and cride.
Laughter affected his great Sire, who doft and laid aside
His fearfull Helme, that on the earth cast round about it light.
Then tooke and kist his loving sonne and (ballancing his weight
In dancing him) these loving vowes to living Jove he usde
And all the other bench of Gods: ‘O you that have infusde
Soule to this Infant, now set downe this blessing on his starre.
Let his renowne be cleare as mine, equall his strength in warre,
And make his reigne so strong in Troy that yeares to come may yeeld
His facts this fame (when, rich in spoiles, he leaves the conquerd field
Sowne with his slaughters): “These high deeds exceed his father' worth.”
And let this eccho'd praise supply the comforts to come forth
Of his kind mother with my life.’ This said, th' Heroicke Sire
Gave him his mother, whose faire eyes fresh streames of love's salt fire
Billow'd on her soft cheekes to heare the last of Hector's speech,
In which his vowes comprisde the summe of all he did beseech
In her wisht comfort. So she tooke into her odorous brest
Her husband's gift; who (mov'd to see her heart so much opprest)
He dried her teares and thus desir'd: ‘Afflict me not, deare wife,
With these vaine griefes. He doth not live that can disjoyne my life
And this firme bosome but my Fate—and Fate, whose wings can flie?
Noble, ignoble, Fate controuls: once borne, the best must die.
Go home and set thy houswifrie on these extremes of thought,
And drive warre from them with thy maids: keep them from doing nought.
These will be nothing: leave the cares of warre to men and mee,
In whom (of all the Ilian race) they take their high'st degree.’
On went his helme; his Princesse home, halfe cold with kindly feares,
When every feare turnd backe her lookes, and every looke shed teares,
Fo-slaughtering Hector's house soone reacht; her many women there
Wept all to see her: in his life great Hector's funerals were—
Never lookt any eye of theirs to see their Lord safe home,
Scap't from the gripes and powers of Greece. And now was Paris come
From his high towres, who made no stay when once he had put on
His richest armour, but flew forth; the flints he trod upon
Sparkled with luster of his armes; his long-ebd spirits now flowd
The higher for their lower ebbe. And as a faire Steed, proud
With ful-given mangers, long tied up and now (his head-stall broke)
He breakes from stable, runnes the field and with an ample stroke
Measures the center, neighs and lifts aloft his wanton head,
About his shoulders shakes his Crest, and where he hath bene fed
Or in some calme floud washt or (stung with his high plight) he flies
Amongst his femals, strength puts forth, his beautie beautifies,
And like Life's mirror beares his gate—so Paris from the towre
Of loftie Pergamus came forth; he shewd a Sun-like powre
In cariage of his goodly parts, addrest now to the strife,
And found his noble brother neere the place he left his wife.
Him (thus respected) he salutes: ‘Right worthy, I have feare
That your so serious haste to field my stay hath made forbeare,
And that I come not as you wish.’ He answerd: ‘Honourd man,
Be confident, for not my selfe nor any others can
Reprove in thee the worke of fight—at least not any such
As is an equall judge of things, for thou hast strength as much
As serves to execute a mind very important. But
Thy strength too readily flies off: enough will is not put
To thy abilitie. My heart is in my mind's strife sad
When Troy (out of her much distresse she and her friends have had
By thy procurement) doth deprave thy noblesse in mine eares.
But come, hereafter we shall calme these hard conceits of theirs
When (from their ports the foe expulst) high Jove to them hath given
Wisht peace, and us free sacrifice to all the powers of heaven.’