Classic Poem

Thus by their leader's care each martial band
Moves into ranks, and stretches o'er the land.
With shouts the Trojans rushing from afar
Proclaim their motions, and provoke the war:
So when inclement winters vex the plain
With piercing frosts, or thick-descending rain,
To warmer seas the cranes embody'd fly,
With noise, and order, thro' the mid-way sky;
To pygmy nations wounds and death they bring,
And all the war descends upon the wing.
But silent, breathing rage, resolv'd, and skill'd
By mutual aids to fix a doubtful field,
Swift march the Greeks : the rapid dust around
Dark'ning arises from the labour'd ground.
Thus from his flaggy wings when Notus sheds
A night of vapours round the mountain-heads,
Swift-gliding mists the dusky fields invade,
To thieves more grateful than the midnight shade;
While scarce the swains their feeding flocks survey,
Lost and confus'd amidst the thicken'd day:
So wrapt in gath'ring dust, the Grecian train
A moving cloud, swept on, and hid the plain.
Now front to front the hostile armies stand,
Eager of fight, and only wait command;
When, to the van, before the sons of fame
Whom Troy sent forth, the beauteous Paris came:
In form a God! the panther's speckled hyde
Flow'd o'er his armour with an easy pride,
His bended bow across his shoulders flung,
His sword beside him negligently hung,
Two pointed spears he shook with gallant grace,
And dar'd the bravest of the Grecian race.
As thus with glorious air and proud disdain,
He boldly stalk'd, the foremost on the plain,
Him Menelaüs , lov'd of Mars , espies,
With Heart elated, and with joyful eyes:
So joys a lion if the branching deer
Or mountain goat, his bulky prize, appear;
Eager he seizes and devours the slain,
Prest by bold youths, and baying dogs in vain.
Thus fond of vengeance, with a furious bound,
In clanging arms he leaps upon the ground
From his high chariot: Him, approaching near,
The beauteous champion views with marks of fear,
Smit with a conscious sense, retires behind,
And shuns the fate he well deserv'd to find.
As when some shepherd from the rustling trees
Shot forth to view, a scaly serpent sees;
Trembling and pale, he starts with wild affright,
And all confus'd, precipitates his flight.
So from the King the shining warriour flies,
And plung'd amid the thickest Trojans lies.
As god-like Hector sees the Prince retreat,
He thus upbraids him with a gen'rous heat.
Unhappy Paris ! but to women brave,
So fairly form'd, and only to deceive!
Oh had'st thou dy'd when first thou saw'st the light,
Or dy'd at least before thy nuptial rite!
A better fate than vainly thus to boast,
And fly, the scandal of thy Trojan host.
Gods! how the scornful Greeks exult to see
Their fears of danger undeceiv'd in thee!
Thy figure promis'd with a martial air,
But ill thy soul supplies a form so fair.
In former days, in all thy gallant pride,
When thy tall ships triumphant stem'd the tide,
When Greece beheld thy painted canvas flow,
And crowds stood wond'ring at the passing show;
Say, was it thus, with such a baffled mien,
You met th' approaches of the Spartan Queen,
Thus from her realm convey'd the beauteous prize,
And both her warlike Lords outshin'd in Helen 's eyes?
This deed, thy foes delight, thy own disgrace,
Thy father's grief, and ruin of thy race;
This deed recalls thee to the proffer'd fight;
Or hast thou injur'd whom thou dar'st not right?
Soon to thy cost the field wou'd make thee know
Thou keep'st the consort of a braver foe.
Thy graceful form instilling soft desire,
Thy curling tresses, and thy silver lyre,
Beauty and youth, in vain to these you trust,
When youth and beauty shall be laid in dust:
Troy yet may wake, and one avenging blow
Crush the dire author of his country's woe.
His silence here, with blushes, Paris breaks;
'Tis just, my brother, what your anger speaks:
But who like thee can boast a soul sedate,
So firmly proof to all the shocks of fate?
Thy force like steel a temper'd hardness shows,
Still edg'd to wound, and still untir'd with blows,
Like steel, uplifted by some strenuous swain,
With falling woods to strow the wasted plain.
Thy gifts I praise, nor thou despise the charms
With which a lover golden Venus arms;
Soft moving speech, and pleasing outward show,
No wish can gain 'em, but the gods bestow.
Yet, wou'd'st thou have the proffer'd combate stand,
The Greeks and Trojans seat on either hand;
Then let a mid-way space our hosts divide,
And, on that stage of war, the cause be try'd:
By Paris there the Spartan King be fought,
For beauteous Helen and the wealth she brought:
And who his rival can in arms subdue,
His be the fair, and his the treasure too.
Thus with a lasting league your toils may cease,
And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace;
Thus may the Greeks review their native shore,
Much fam'd for gen'rous steeds, for beauty more.
He said. The Challenge Hector heard with joy,
Then with his spear restrain'd the youth of Troy ,
Held by the midst, athwart; and near the foe
Advanc'd with steps majestically slow.
While round his dauntless head the Grecians pour
Their stones and arrows in a mingled show'r.
Then thus the Monarch great Atrides cry'd;
Forbear ye warriours! lay the darts aside:
A Parley Hector asks, a message bears;
We know him by the various plume he wears.
Aw'd by his high command the Greeks attend,
The tumult silence, and the fight suspend.
While from the centre Hector rolls his eyes
On either host, and thus to both applies.
Hear, all ye Trojans , all ye Grecian bands!
What Paris , author of the war, demands.
Your shining swords within the sheath restrain,
And pitch your lances in the yielding plain.
Here, in the midst, in either army's sight,
He dares the Spartan King to single fight;
And wills, that Helen and the ravish'd spoil
That caus'd the contest, shall reward the toil.
Let these the brave triumphant victor grace,
And diff'ring nations part in leagues of peace.
He spoke: in still suspense on either side
Each army stood: The Spartan Chief reply'd.
Me too ye warriours hear, whose fatal right
A world engages in the toils of fight.
To me the labour of the field resign;
Me Paris injur'd; all the war be mine.
Fall he that must beneath his rival's arms,
And live the rest secure of future harms.
Two lambs, devoted by your country's rite,
To Earth a sable, to the Sun a white,
Prepare ye Trojans ! while a third we bring
Select to Jove , th' inviolable King.
Let rev'rend Priam in the truce engage,
And add the sanction of consid'rate age;
His sons are faithless, headlong in debate,
And youth itself an empty wav'ring state:
Cool age advances venerably wise,
Turns on all hands its deep-discerning eyes;
Sees what befell, and what may yet befall;
Concludes from both, and best provides for all.
The nations hear, with rising hopes possest,
And peaceful prospects dawn in ev'ry breast.
Within the lines they drew their steeds around,
And from their chariots issu'd on the ground:
Next all unbuckling the rich mail they wore,
Lay'd their bright arms along the sable shore.
On either side the meeting hosts are seen,
With lances fix'd, and close the space between.
Two heralds now dispatch'd to Troy , invite
The Phrygian Monarch to the peaceful rite;
Talthybius hastens to the fleet, to bring
The Lamb for Jove , th' inviolable King.
Mean time, to beauteous Helen , from the skies
The various Goddess of the rain-bow flies:
(Like fair Laodice in form and face,
The loveliest Nymph of Priam 's royal race)
Her in the palace, at her loom she found;
The golden web her own sad story crown'd.
The Trojan wars she weav'd (herself the prize)
And the dire triumphs of her fatal eyes.
To whom the Goddess of the painted bow;
Approach, and view the wond'rous scene below!
Each hardy Greek and valiant Trojan Knight,
So dreadful late, and furious for the fight,
Now rest their spears, or lean upon their shields;
Ceas'd is the war, and silent all the fields.
Paris alone and Sparta 's king advance,
In single fight to toss the beamy lance;
Each met in arms, the fate of combate tries,
Thy love the motive, and thy charms the prize.
This said, the many-colour'd maid inspires
Her husband's love, and wakes her former fires;
Her country, parents, all that once were dear,
Rush to her thought, and force a tender tear.
O'er her fair face a snowy veil she threw,
And, softly sighing, from the loom withdrew.
Her handmaids Clymene and Æthra wait
Her silent footsteps to the Scaean gate.
There sate the seniors of the Trojan race,
(Old Priam 's Chiefs, and most in Priam 's grace)
The King the first; Thymaetes at his side;
Lampus and Clytius , long in council try'd;
Panthus , and Hicetäon , once the strong,
And next the wisest of the rev'rend Throng,
Antenor grave, and sage Ucalegon ,
Lean'd on the walls, and bask'd before the sun.
Chiefs, who no more in bloody fights engage,
But wise thro' time, and narrative with age,
In summer-days like grasshoppers rejoice,
A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.
These, when the Spartan Queen approach'd the tow'r,
In secret own'd resistless beauty's pow'r:
They cry'd, No wonder, such celestial charms
For nine long years have set the world in arms;
What winning graces! what majestick mien!
She moves a Goddess, and she looks a Queen!
Yet hence, oh heav'n! convey that fatal face,
And from destruction save the Trojan race.
The good old Priam welcom'd her, and cry'd,
Approach my child, and grace thy father's side.
See on the plain thy Grecian spouse appears,
The friends and kindred of thy former years.
No crime of thine our present suff'rings draws,
Not thou, but heav'ns disposing will, the cause;
The Gods these armies and this force employ,
The hostile Gods conspire the fate of Troy .
But lift thy eyes, and say, What Greek is he
(Far as from hence these aged orbs can see)
Around whose brow such martial graces shine,
So tall, so awful, and almost divine?
Tho' some of larger stature tread the green,
None match his grandeur and exalted mien:
He seems a Monarch, and his country's pride.
Thus ceas'd the King, and thus the fair reply'd.
Before thy presence, Father, I appear
With conscious shame and reverential fear.
Ah! had I dy'd, e're to these walls I fled,
False to my country and my nuptial bed,
My brothers, friends, and daughter left behind,
False to them all, to Paris only kind!
For this I mourn, 'till grief or dire disease
Shall waste the form whose crime it was to please!
The King of Kings, Atrides , you survey,
Great in the war, and great in arts of sway.
My brother once, before my days of shame;
And oh! that still he bore a brother's Name!
With wonder Priam view'd the Godlike man,
Extoll'd the happy Prince, and thus began.
O blest Atrides ! born to prosp'rous fate,
Successful Monarch of a mighty state!
How vast thy empire? Of yon' matchless train
What numbers lost, what numbers yet remain?
In Phrygia once were gallant armies known,
In ancient time, when Otreus ' fill'd the throne,
When Godlike Mygdon led their troops of horse,
And I, to join them, rais'd the Trojan force:
Against the manlike Amazons we stood,
And Sangar 's stream ran purple with their blood.
But far inferior those, in martial grace
And strength of numbers, to this Grecian race.
This said, once more he view'd the warriour-train:
What's he, whose arms lie scatter'd on the plain?
Broad is his breast, his shoulders larger spread,
Tho' great Atrides overtops his head.
Nor yet appear his care and conduct small;
From rank to rank he moves, and orders all.
The stately ram thus measures o'er the ground,
And, master of the flocks, surveys them round.
Then Helen thus. Whom your discerning eyes
Have singled out, is Ithacus the wise:
A barren island boasts his glorious birth;
His fame for wisdom fills the spacious earth.
Antenor took the word, and thus began:
My self, O King! have seen that wondrous man;
When trusting Jove and hospitable laws,
To Troy he came, to plead the Grecian cause;
(Great Menelaus urg'd the same request)
My house was honour'd with each royal guest:
I knew their persons, and admir'd their parts,
Both brave in arms, and both approv'd in arts.
Erect, the Spartan most engag'd our view,
Ulysses seated, greater rev'rence drew.
When Atreus ' son harangu'd the list'ning train,
Just was his sense, and his expression plain,
His words succinct, yet full, without a fault;
He spoke no more than just the thing he ought.
But when Ulysses rose, in thought profound,
His modest eyes he fix'd upon the ground,
As one unskill'd or dumb, he seem'd to stand,
Nor rais'd his head, nor stretch'd his sceptred hand;
But, when he speaks, what elocution flows!
Soft as the fleeces of descending snows
The copious accents fall, with easy art;
Melting they fall, and sink into the heart!
Wond'ring we hear, and fix'd in deep surprize
Our ears refute the censure of our eyes.
The King then ask'd (as yet the camp he view'd)
What Chief is that, with giant strength endu'd,
Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swelling chest,
And lofty stature far exceed the rest?
Ajax the great (the beauteous Queen reply'd)
Himself a host: the Grecian strength and pride.
See! bold Idomeneus superior tow'rs
Amidst yon' circle of his Cretan pow'rs,
Great as a God! I saw him once before,
With Menelaüs , on the Spartan shore.
The rest I know, and could in order name;
All valiant chiefs, and men of mighty fame.
Yet two are wanting of the num'rous train,
Whom long my eyes have sought, but sought in vain:
Castor and Pollux , first in martial force,
One bold on foot, and one renown'd for horse.
My brothers these; the same our native shore,
One house contain'd us, as one mother bore.
Perhaps the Chiefs, from warlike toils at ease,
For distant Troy refus'd to sail the seas:
Perhaps their sword some nobler quarrel draws,
Asham'd to combate in their sister's cause.
So spoke the fair, nor knew her brother's doom,
Wrapt in the cold embraces of the tomb;
Adorn'd with honours in their native shore,
Silent they slept, and heard of wars no more.
Meantime the heralds, thro' the crowded town,
Bring the rich wine and destin'd victims down.
Idaeus ' arms the golden goblets prest,
Who thus the venerable King addrest.
Arise, O father of the Trojan state!
The nations call, thy joyful people wait,
To seal the truce and end the dire debate.
Paris thy son, and Sparta 's King advance,
In measur'd lists to toss the weighty lance;
And who his rival shall in arms subdue,
His be the dame, and his the treasure too.
Thus with a lasting league our toils may cease,
And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace;
So shall the Greeks review their native shore,
Much fam'd for gen'rous steeds, for beauty more.
With grief he heard, and bade the chiefs prepare
To join his milk-white coursers to the car:
He mounts the seat, Antenor at his side;
The gentle steeds thro' Scaea 's gates they guide:
Next from the car descending on the plain,
Amid the Grecian host and Trojan train
Slow they proceed: The sage Ulysses then
Arose, and with him rose the King of Men.
On either side a sacred herald stands,
The wine they mix, and on each monarch's hands
Pour the full urn; then draws the Grecian Lord
His cutlace sheath'd beside his pondrous sword;
From the sign'd victims crops the curling hair,
The heralds part it, and the Princes share;
Then loudly thus before th' attentive bands
He calls the Gods, and spreads his lifted hands.
O first and greatest pow'r! whom all obey,
Who high on Ida 's holy mountain sway,
Eternal Jove ! and you bright orb that roll
From east to west, and view from pole to pole!
Thou mother Earth ! and all ye living Floods !
Infernal Furies , and Tartarean Gods,
Who rule the dead, and horrid woes prepare
For perjur'd Kings, and all who falsely swear!
Hear, and be witness. If, by Paris slain,
Great Menelaüs press the fatal plain;
The Dame and treasures let the Trojan keep,
And Greece returning plow the watry deep.
If by my brother's lance the Trojan bleed;
Be his the wealth and beauteous dame decreed:
Th' appointed fine let Ilion justly pay,
And ev'ry age record the signal day.
This if the Phrygians shall refuse to yield,
Arms must revenge, and Mars decide the field.
With that, the Chief the tender victims slew,
And in the dust their bleeding bodies threw:
The vital spirit issu'd at the wound,
And left the members quiv'ring on the ground.
From the same urn they drink the mingled wine,
And add libations to the pow'rs divine.
While thus their pray'rs united mount the sky;
Hear mighty Jove ! and hear ye Gods on high!
And may their blood, who first the league confound,
Shed like this wine, distain the thirsty ground;
May all their consorts serve promiscuous lust,
And all their race be scatter'd as the dust!
Thus either host their imprecations join'd,
Which Jove refus'd, and mingled with the wind.
The rites now finish'd, rev'rend Priam rose,
And thus express'd a heart o'ercharg'd with woes.
Ye Greeks and Trojans , let the chiefs engage,
But spare the weakness of my feeble age:
In yonder walls that object let me shun,
Nor view the danger of so dear a son.
Whose arms shall conquer, and what Prince shall fall,
Heav'n only knows, for heav'n disposes all.
This said, the hoary King no longer stay'd,
But on his car the slaughter'd victims laid,
Then seiz'd the reins his gentle steeds to guide,
And drove to Troy , Antenor at his side.
Bold Hector and Ulysses now dispose
The lists of combate, and the ground inclose;
Next to decide by sacred lots prepare,
Who first shall launce his pointed spear in air.
The people pray with elevated hands,
And words like these are heard thro' all the bands.
Immortal Jove ! high heav'n's superior lord,
On lofty Ida 's holy mount ador'd!
Whoe'er involv'd us in this dire debate,
Oh give that author of the war to fate,
And shades eternal! Let division cease,
And joyful nations join in leagues of peace.
With eyes averted Hector hasts to turn
The lots of Fight, and shakes the brazen urn.
Then, Paris , thine leap'd forth, by fatal chance
Ordain'd the first to whirl the weighty lance.
Both armies sate, the combate to survey,
Beside each chief his azure armour lay,
And round the lists the gen'rous coursers neigh.
The beauteous warriour now arrays for fight,
In gilded arms magnificently bright:
The purple cuishes clasp his thighs around,
With flow'rs adorn'd, with silver buckles bound:
Lycaon 's cors'let his fair body drest,
Brac'd in, and fitted to his softer breast;
A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder ty'd,
Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side:
His youthful face a polish'd helm o'erspread;
The waving horse-hair nodded on his head;
His figur'd shield, a shining orb, he takes,
And in his hand a pointed jav'lin shakes.
With equal speed, and fir'd by equal charms,
The Spartan hero sheaths his limbs in arms.
Now round the lists th' admiring armies stand,
With jav'lins fix'd, the Greek and Trojan band.
Amidst the dreadful vale the Chiefs advance,
All pale with rage, and shake the threat'ning lance.
The Trojan first his shining jav'lin threw;
Full on Atrides ' ringing shield it flew,
Nor pierc'd the brazen orb, but with a bound
Leap'd from the buckler blunted on the ground.
Atrides then his massy lance prepares,
In act to throw, but first prefers his pray'rs.
Give me, great Jove ! to punish lawless lust,
And lay the Trojan gasping in the dust:
Destroy th' aggressor, aid my righteous cause,
Avenge the breach of hospitable laws!
Let this example future times reclaim,
And guard from wrong fair friendship's holy name.
He said, and pois'd in air the jav'lin sent,
Thro' Paris ' shield the forceful weapon went,
His cors'let pierces, and his garment rends,
And glancing downward, near his flank descends.
The wary Trojan , bending from the blow,
Eludes the death, and disappoints his foe:
But fierce Atrides wav'd his sword and strook
Full on his casque; the crested helmet shook;
The brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand,
Broke short: the fragments glitter'd on the sand.
The raging warriour to the spacious skies
Rais'd his upbraiding voice, and angry eyes:
Then is it vain in Jove himself to trust?
And is it thus the Gods assist the just?
When crimes provoke us, heav'n success denies;
The dart falls harmless, and the faulchion flies.
Furious he said, and tow'rd the Grecian crew
(Seiz'd by the crest) th' unhappy warriour drew;
Struggling he follow'd, while th' embroider'd thong
That ty'd his helmet, dragg'd the chief along.
Then had his ruin crown'd Atrides ' joy,
But Venus trembl'd for the Prince of Troy :
Unseen she came, and burst the golden band;
And left an empty helmet in his hand.
The casque, enrag'd, amidst the Greeks he threw;
The Greeks with smiles the polish'd trophy view.
Then, as once more he lifts the deadly dart,
In thirst of vengeance, at his rival's heart,
The Queen of Love her favour'd champion shrouds
(For Gods can all things) in a veil of clouds.
Rais'd from the field the panting youth she led,
And gently laid him on the bridal bed,
With pleasing sweets his fainting sense renews,
And all the dome perfumes with heav'nly dews.
Meantime the brightest of the female kind,
The matchless Helen o'er the walls reclin'd:
To her, beset with Trojan beauties, came
In borrow'd form the laughter-loving dame.
(She seem'd an ancient maid, well-skill'd to cull
The snowy fleece, and wind the twisted wool.)
The Goddess softly shook her silken vest,
That shed perfumes, and whisp'ring thus addrest.
Haste, happy nymph! for thee thy Paris calls,
Safe from the fight, in yonder lofty walls,
Fair as a God! with odours round him spread
He lies, and waits thee on the well-known bed:
Not like a warriour parted from the foe,
But some gay dancer in the publick show.
She spoke, and Helen 's secret soul was mov'd;
She scorn'd the champion, but the man she lov'd.
Fair Venus ' neck, her eyes that sparkled fire,
And breast, reveal'd the Queen of soft desire.
Struck with her presence, strait the lively red
Forsook her cheek; and, trembling, thus she said.
Then is it still thy pleasure to deceive?
And woman's frailty always to believe?
Say, to new nations must I cross the main,
Or carry wars to some soft Asian plain?
For whom must Helen break her second vow?
What other Paris is thy darling now?
Left to Atrides , (victor in the strife)
An odious conquest and a captive wife,
Hence let me sail: And if thy Paris bear
My absence ill, let Venus ease his care.
A hand-maid goddess at his side to wait,
Renounce the glories of thy heav'nly state,
Be fix'd for ever to the Trojan shore,
His spouse, or slave; and mount the skies no more.
For me, to lawless love no longer led,
I scorn the coward, and detest his bed;
Else should I merit everlasting shame,
And keen reproach, from ev'ry Phrygian dame:
Ill suits it now the joys of love to know,
Too deep my anguish, and too wild my woe.
Then thus, incens'd, the Paphian Queen replies;
Obey the pow'r from whom thy glories rise:
Should Venus leave thee, ev'ry charm must fly,
Fade from thy cheek, and languish in thy eye.
Cease to provoke me, lest I make thee more
The world's aversion, than their love before;
Now the bright prize for which mankind engage,
Then, the sad victim of the publick rage.
At this, the fairest of her sex obey'd,
And veil'd her blushes in a silken shade;
Unseen, and silent, from the train she moves,
Led by the Goddess of the Smiles and Loves.
Arriv'd, and enter'd at the Palace gate,
The maids officious round their mistress wait;
Then all dispersing, various tasks attend;
The Queen and Goddess to the Prince ascend.
Full in her Paris ' sight the Queen of Love
Had plac'd the beauteous progeny of Jove ;
Where, as he view'd her charms, she turn'd away
Her glowing eyes, and thus began to say.
Is this the Chief, who lost to sense of shame
Late fled the field, and yet survives his fame?
Oh hadst thou dy'd beneath the righteous sword
Of that brave man whom once I call'd my Lord!
The boaster Paris oft' desir'd the day
With Sparta 's King to meet in single fray:
Go now, once more thy rival's rage excite,
Provoke Atrides and renew the fight:
Yet Helen bids thee stay, lest thou unskill'd
Should'st fall an easy conquest on the field.
The Prince replies; Ah cease, divinely fair,
Nor add reproaches to the wounds I bear;
This day the foe prevail'd by Pallas ' pow'r;
We yet may vanquish in a happier hour:
There want not gods to favour us above;
But let the business of our Life be Love:
These softer moments let delights employ,
And kind embraces snatch the hasty joy.
Not thus I lov'd thee, when from Sparta 's shore
My forc'd, my willing heav'nly prize I bore,
When first entranc'd in Cranai 's isle I lay,
Mix'd with thy soul, and all dissolv'd away.
Thus having spoke, th' enamour'd Phrygian boy
Rush'd to the bed, impatient for the joy.
Him Helen follow'd slow with bashful charms,
And clasp'd the blooming Hero in her arms.
While these to love's delicious rapture yield,
The stern Atrides rages round the field:
So some fell lion whom the woods obey,
Roars thro' the desart, and demands his prey.
Paris he seeks, impatient to destroy,
But seeks in vain along the troops of Troy ;
Ev'n those had yielded to a foe so brave
The recreant warriour, hateful as the grave.
Then speaking thus, the King of Kings arose;
Ye Trojans , Dardans , all our gen'rous foes!
Hear and attest! From heav'n with conquest crown'd,
Our brother's arms the just success have found:
Be therefore now the Spartan wealth restor'd,
Let Argive Helen own her lawful Lord,
Th' appointed fine let Ilion justly pay,
And Age to Age record this signal Day.
He ceas'd; his army's loud applauses rise,
And the long shout runs echoing thro' the skies.