B. XV.]

AJAX INSPIRES THE GREEKS.

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What aids expect you in this utmost strait? 'What bulwarks rising between you and fate? No aids, no bulwarks, your retreat attend, "No friends to help, no city to defend. This spot is all you have, to lose or keep;

There stands the Trojans, and here rolls the deep.
'Tis hostile ground you tread; your native lands
Far, far from hence: your fates are in your hands.'
Raging he spoke; nor farther wastes his breath,
But turns his javelin to the work of death.
Whate'er bold Trojan arm'd his daring bands
Against the sable ships with flaming brands,
So well the chief his naval1o weapon sped,
The luckless warrior at his stern lay dead:
Full twelve, the boldest, in a moment fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell.

BOOK XVI.

THE ARGUMENT,

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THE SIXTH BATTLE: THE ACTS AND DEATH OF PATROCLUS.

Patroclus (in pursuance of the request of Nestor in the eleventh book) entreats Achilles to suffer him to go to the assistance of the Greeks with Achilles' troops and armour. He agrees to it, but at the same time charges him to content himself with rescuing the fleet, without farther pursuit of the enemy. The armour, horses, soldiers, and officers of Achilles are described. Achilles offers a libation for the success of his friend, after which Patroclus leads the Myrmidons to battle. The Trojans, at the sight of Patroclus in Achilles' armour, taking him for that hero, are cast into the utmost consternation: he beats them off from the vessels, Hector himself flies, Sarpedon is killed, though Jupiter was averse to his fate. Several other particulars of the battle are described; in the heat of which, Patroclus, neglecting the orders of Achilles, pursues the foe to the walls of Troy; where Apollo repulses and disarms him. Euphorbus wounds him, and Hector kills him: which concludes the book.

So warr'd both armies on th' ensanguin'd shore, While the black vessels smok'd with human gore. Meantime Patroclus to Achilles flies;

The streaming tears fall copious from his eyes;

10 "Naval" is the reading of all the copies. Pope seems to use the word for "employed in defence of the ships." There is no basis for it in the original.

Not faster, trickling to the plains below,
From the tall rock the sable waters flow.
Divine Pelides, with compassion mov'd,
Thus spoke, indulgent to his best belov'd:

Patroclus, say, what grief thy bosom bears,
'That flows so fast in these unmanly tears?
'No girl, no infant whom the mother keeps
From her loved breast, with fonder passion weeps;
'Not more the mother's soul that infant warms,
'Clung to her knees, and reaching at her arms,
Than thou hast mine! Oh tell me to what end
Thy melting sorrows thus pursue thy friend?
'Griev'st thou for me, or for my martial band?
'Or come sad tidings from our native land?
'Our fathers live (our first, most tender care,)
'Thy good Mencetius breathes the vital air,
And hoary Peleus yet extends his days;

'Pleas'd in their age to hear their children's praise. 'Or may some meaner cause thy pity claim? Perhaps yon relics of the Grecian name,

‘Doom'd in their ships to sink by fire and sword, 'And pay the forfeit of their haughty lord ?

'Whate'er the cause, reveal thy secret care,

And speak those sorrows which a friend would share.'
A sigh, that instant, from his bosom broke,

Another follow'd, and Patroclus spoke:

Let Greece at length with pity touch thy breast, Thyself a Greek; and, once, of Greeks the best! 'Lo! every chief that might her fate prevent,

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Lies pierced with wounds, and bleeding in his tent :
Eurypylus, Tydides, Atreus' son,

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And wise Ulysses, at the navy groan,

More for their country's wounds, than for their own.

Their pain soft arts of pharmacy can ease;

Thy breast alone no lenitives appease.

May never rage like thine my soul enslave,

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"O great in vain! unprofitably brave!

Thy country slighted in her last distress,

No: men unborn, and ages yet behind,

'What friend, what man, from thee shall hope redress?

'Shall curse that fierce, that unforgiving mind.
'O man unpitying! if of man thy race;

But sure thou spring'st not from a soft embrace,
Nor ever amorous hero caused thy birth,
Nor ever tender goddess brought thee forth.
Some rugged rock's hard entrails gave

thee form,

'And raging seas produced thee in a storm;

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B. XVI.]

PATROCLUS INTREATS ACHILLES.

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A soul well-suiting that tempestuous kind,
'So rough thy manners, so untam'd thy mind.
'If some dire oracle thy breast alarm,

If aught from Jove, or Thetis, stop thy arm,

Some beam of comfort yet on Greece may shine,
If I but lead the Myrmidonian line:

Clad in thy dreadful arms if I appear,
Proud Troy shall tremble and desert the war:
'Without thy person Greece shall win the day,

And thy mere image chase her foes away.

Press'd by fresh forces, her o'erlabour'd train
'Shall quit the ships, and Greece respire again.
Thus, blind to fate! with supplicating breath,
Thou begg'st his arms, and in his arms thy death.
Unfortunately good! a boding sigh

Thy friend return'd; and with it, this reply :
'Patroclus! thy Achilles knows no fears ;
Nor words from Jove, nor oracles, he hears;
Nor aught a mother's caution can suggest;
'The tyrant's pride lies rooted in my breast.

'My wrongs, my wrongs, my constant thought engage,

Those, my sole oracles, inspire my rage:

I made him tyrant; gave him power to wrong.

'E'en me: I felt it; and shall feel it long.
The maid, my black-ey'd maid, he forc'd away,
'Due to the toils of many a well-fought day;
'Due to my conquest of her father's reign;
Due to the votes of all the Grecian train.
'From me he forc'd her, me the bold and brave;
"Disgrac'd, dishonour'd, like the meanest slave.

But bear we this-The wrongs I grieve are past; 'Tis time our fury should relent at last :

‘I fix'd its date; the day I wish'd appears; 'Now Hector to my ships his battle bears,

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The flames my eyes, the shouts invade my ears.

'Go, then, Patroclus! court fair honour's charms

In Troy's fam'd fields, and in Achilles' arms:
Lead forth my martial Myrmidons to fight,

Go, save the fleets, and conquer in my right.
See the thin relics of their baffled band,
'At the last edge of yon deserted land!

'Behold all Ilion on their ships descends ;

How the cloud blackens, how the storm impends!
It was not thus, when, at my sight amaz'd,
Troy saw and trembled as this helmet blaz'd:
Had not th' injurious king our friendship lost,
'Yon ample trench had buried half her host.

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'No camps, no bulwarks, now the Trojans fear,

Those are not dreadful, no Achilles there:

No longer flames the lance of Tydeus' son; No more your general calls his heroes on; 'Hector alone I hear; his dreadful breath 'Commands your slaughter, or proclaims your death. Yet now, Patroclus, issue to the plain;

'Now save the ships, the rising fires restrain,
And give the Greeks to visit Greece again.

'But heed my words, and mark a friend's command,
'Who trusts his fame and honours in thy hand,
And from thy deeds expects th' Achaian host

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Though Jove in thunder should command the war, 'Be just, consult my glory, and forbear.

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'The fleet once sav'd, desist from farther chase,

Nor lead to Ilion's walls the Grecian race;

'Some adverse god thy rashness may destroy;

'Some god, like Phoebus, ever kind to Troy.

'Let Greece, redeem'd from this destructive strait,

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'Do her own work, and leave the rest to fate.

Oh! would to all th' immortal powers above,

Apollo, Pallas, and almighty Jove!

That not one Trojan might be left alive,

'And not a Greek of all the race survive ;

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Such conference held the chiefs: while, on the strand,

His breath, in quick short pantings, comes and goes;
And painful sweat from all his members flows.

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Eustathius informs us, that some of the ancients rejected this wish with which Achilles concludes his answer, on account of its impossibility, and the extravagant ambition that it discovers. But their reasons were not good; for, in respect of manners, the poet constantly represents his hero, not such as he ought to have been, but such as he was reported; and as to the extravagance of it, it is not greater than Diomed uses, when he declares that, if all renounce the siege, himself and Sthenelus alone will continue it till Troy be taken. Cowper. See B. ix. 65.

B. XVI.!

PATROCLUS ARMS HIMSELF.

Spent and o'erpower'd, he barely breathes at most;

Yet scarce an army stirs him from his post:

Say, Muses, thron'd above the starry frame,

How first the navy blaz'd with Trojan flame?

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Stern Hector wav'd his sword, and, standing near
Where furious Ajax plied his ashen spear,
Full on the lance a stroke so justly sped,
That the broad faulchion lopp'd its brazen head:
His pointless spear the warrior shakes in vain ;
The brazen head falls sounding on the plain.
Great Ajax saw, and own'd the hand divine,
Confessing Jove, and trembling at the sign;
Warn'd he retreats. Then swift from all sides pour
The hissing brands; thick streams the fiery shower;
O'er the high stern the curling volumes rise,
And sheets of rolling smoke involve the skies.
Divine Achilles view'd the rising flames,
And smote his thigh, and thus aloud exclaims:
Arm, arm, Patroclus! lo, the blaze aspires!
The glowing ocean reddens with the fires.

Arm, ere our vessels catch the spreading flame;
Arm, ere the Grecians be no more a name;
'I haste to bring the troops.' The hero said;
The friend with ardour and with joy obey'd.

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He cas'd his limbs in brass; and first around
His manly legs with silver buckles bound
The clasping greaves: then to his breast applies
The flamy cuirass, of a thousand dyes;

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Emblaz'd with studs of gold, his faulchion shone

In the rich belt, as in a starry zone.

Achilles' shield his ample shoulders spread,

Achilles' helmet nodded o'er his head.
Adorn'd in all his terrible array,
He flash'd around intolerable day.
Alone, untouch'd, Pelides' javelin stands,
Not to be pois'd but by Pelides' hands:
From Pelion's shady brow the plant entire
Old Chiron rent, and shap'd it for his sire;
Whose son's great arm alone the weapon wields,
The death of heroes, and the dread of fields.

Then brave Automedon (an honour'd name,
The second to his lord in love and fame,
In peace his friend, and partner of the war)
The winged coursers harness'd to the car.

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