With these Eurypylus and Thoas stand,
And wise Ulysses clos'd the daring band.
All these, alike inspir'd with noble rage,
Demand the fight. To whom the Pylian sage:

Lest thirst of glory your brave souls divide, "What chief shall combat, let the lots decide.

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'Whom heaven shall choose, be his the chance to raise

'His country's fame, his own immortal praise.'
The lots produc'd, each hero signs his own;
Then in the general's helm the fates are thrown.
The people pray with lifted eyes and hands,
And vows like these ascend from all the bands:
'Grant thou, Almighty! in whose hand is fate,
A worthy champion for the Grecian state.
"This task let Ajax or Tydides prove,

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'Or he, the king of kings, belov'd by Jove.'

Old Nestor shook the casque. By heaven inspir'd,

Leap'd forth the lot, of every Greek desir'd.

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This from the right to left the herald bears,

Held out in order to the Grecian peers;
Each to his rival yields the mark unknown,
Till godlike Ajax finds the lot his own;
Surveys th' inscription with rejoicing eyes,
Then casts before him, and with transport cries:
'Warriors! I claim the lot, and arm with joy;
'Be mine the conquest of this chief of Troy.
'Now, while my brightest arms my limbs invest,
'To Saturn's son be all your vows address'd:
'But pray in secret, lest the foes should hear,

And deem your prayers the mean effect of fear.
'Said I in secret? No, your vows declare,
'In such a voice as fills the earth and air.

'Lives there a chief, whom Ajax ought to dread,
'Ajax, in all the toils of battle bred ?
From warlike Salamis I drew my birth,

'And, born to combats, fear no force of earth.
He said. The troops with elevated eyes,

Implore the god whose thunder rends the skies:
'O father of mankind, superior lord!
'On lofty Ida's holy hill ador'd;

Who in the highest heaven hast fix'd thy throne, Supreme of gods! unbounded, and alone : 'Grant thou, that Telamon

bear may

away

The praise and conquest of this doubtful day; 'Or if illustrious Hector be thy care,

"That both may claim it, and that both

may share.'

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B. VII.]

HECTOR AND AJAX ENGAGE.

Now Ajax braced his dazzling armour on;
Sheath'd in bright steel the giant warrior shone :
He moves to combat with majestic pace;
So stalks in arms the grizly god of Thrace,
When Jove to punish faithless men prepares,
And gives whole nations to the waste of wars.
Thus march'd the chief, tremendous as a god;
Grimly he smil'd; earth trembled as he strode :
His massy javelin quivering in his hand,
He stood, the bulwark of the Grecian band.
Through every Argive heart new transport ran;
All Troy stood trembling at the mighty man.

E'en Hector paus'd; and, with new doubt oppress'd,
Felt his great heart suspended in his breast:
'Twas vain to seek retreat, and vain to fear;
Himself had challeng'd, and the foe drew near.
Stern Telamon behind his ample shield,
As from a brazen tower, o'erlook'd the field.
Huge was its orb, with seven thick folds o'ercast
Of tough bull-hides; of solid brass the last.
(The work of Tychius, who in Hylé dwell'd,
And all in arts of armoury excell'd.)

This Ajax bore before his manly breast,

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And, threatening, thus his adverse chief address'd:

6

Hector! approach my arm, and singly know

'What strength thou hast, and what the Grecian foe.

'Achilles shuns the fight; yet some there are

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Not void of soul, and not unskill'd in war:

'Let him, inactive on the sea-beat shore,

Indulge his wrath, and aid our arms no more; 'Whole troops of heroes Greece has yet to boast, 'And sends thee one, a sample of her host. 'Such as I am, I come to prove thy might; 'No more-▬ -be sudden, and begin the fight.' 'O son of Telamon, thy country's pride!' (To Ajax thus the Trojan prince replied,)

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Me, as a boy or woman, would'st thou fright, New to the field, and trembling at the fight? Thou meet'st a chief deserving of thy arms, 'To combat born, and bred amidst alarms :

I know to shift my ground, remount the car,
Turn, charge, and answer every call of war:
To right, to left, the dexterous lance I wield,
And bear thick battle on my sounding shield.
But open be our fight, and bold each blow

I steal no conquest from a noble foe.'

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He said, and, rising high above the field,
Whirl'd the long lance against the sevenfold shield.
Full on the brass descending from above

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Through six bull-hides the furious weapon drove,
Till in the seventh it fix'd. Then Ajax threw ;
Through Hector's shield the forceful javelin flew ;
His corslet enters, and his garment rends,

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And, glancing downwards, near his flank descends.
The wary Trojan shrinks, and, bending low
Beneath his buckler, disappoints the blow.

From their bor'd shields the chiefs their javelins drew,

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Then close impetuous, and the charge renew:

Fierce as the mountain lions bathed in blood,

Or foaming boars, the terror of the wood.
At Ajax, Hector his long lance extends;
The blunted point against the buckler bends.
But Ajax, watchful as his foe drew near,

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Drove through the Trojan targe the knotty spear;

It reach'd his neck, with matchless strength impell'd;
Spouts the black gore, and dims the shining shield.
Yet ceas'd not Hector thus; but, stooping down,

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In his strong hand upheav'd a flinty stone,

Black, craggy, vast: to this his force he bends;
Full on the brazen boss the stone descends;
The hollow brass resounded with the shock.
Then Ajax seized the fragment of a rock,

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Applied each nerve, and, swinging round on high,

With force tempestuous let the ruin fly:

The huge stone thundering through his buckler broke;

His slacken'd knees received the numbing stroke;

Great Hector falls extended on the field,

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His bulk supporting on the shatter'd shield :

Nor wanted heavenly aid: Apollo's might

Confirm'd his sinews, and restor'❜d to fight.

And now both heroes their broad faulchions drew ;

In flaming circles round their heads they flew ;

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But then by heralds' voice the word was given,

The sacred ministers of earth and heaven:

Divine Talthybius whom the Greeks employ,
And sage Idæus on the part of Troy,
Between the swords their peaceful sceptres rear'd;
And first Idæus' awful voice was heard:

Forbear, my sons! your farther force to prove,

'Both dear to men, and both belov'd of Jove.

To either host your matchless worth is known,

Each sounds your praise, and war is all your own.

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