Let these the brave triumphant victor grace,
And differing nations part in leagues of peace."
He spoke in still suspense on either side
Each army stood. The Spartan chief replied:
"Me too, ye warriors, hear, whose fatal right
A world engages in the toils of fight.
To me the labour of the field resign;
Me Paris injured; 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 reverend Priam in the truce engage,
And add the sanction of considerate age;
His sons are faithless, headlong in debate,
And youth itself an empty, wavering 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 possess'd,
And peaceful prospects dawn in every breast.
Within the lines they drew their steeds around,
"And from their chariots issued on the ground.
Next all, unbuckling the rich mail they wore,
Laid 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, despatched to Troy, invite
The Phrygian monarch to the peaceful rite;
Talthybius hastens to the fleet, to bring
The lamb for Jove, th' inviolable king.
Meantime, to beauteous Helen, from the skies
The various goddess of the rainbow flies
(Like fair Laodicè 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 weaved (herself the prize),
And the dire triumphs of her fatal eyes.
To whom the goddess of the painted bow:
"Approach, and view the wondrous scenes 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,
Ceased 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 combat 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, Clymenè and Æthra, wait
Her silent footsteps to the Scæan gate.
There sat the seniors of the Trojan race
(Old Priam's chiefs, and most in Priam's grace)
The king the first; Thymates at his side;
Lampus and Clytius, long in council tried;
Panthus, and Hicetäon, once the strong;
And next, the wisest of the reverend 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 through 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 tower,
In secret own'd resistless beauty's power:
They cried: "No wonder such celestial charms
For nine long years have set the world in arms!
What winning graces! what majestic mien!
She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen!
Yet hence, oh Heaven! convey that fatal face,
And from destruction save the Trojan race.”
The good old Priam welcomed her; and cried:
"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 sufferings draws,
Not thou, but Heaven's 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?
Though some of larger stature tread the green,
None match his grandeur and exalted mien:
He seems a monarch, and his country's pride."
Thus ceased the king; and thus the fair replied:
'Before thy presence, father, I appear
With conscious shame and reverential fear.
Ah! had I died, ere 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:
"Oh, bless'd Atrides! born to prosperous 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, raised the Trojan force:
Against the manlike Amazons we stood,
And Sangar's stream ran purple in 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 warrior train:
"What's he whose arms lie scatter'd on the plain?
Broad is his breast, his shoulders larger spread,
Though 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 flock, 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:
"Myself, O king! have seen that wondrous man,
When, trusting Jove and hospitable laws,
To Troy he came, to plead the Grecian cause.
(Great Menalaüs urged the same request);
My house was honour'd with each royal guest:
I knew their persons, and admired their parts,
Both brave in arms, and both approved in arts.
Erect, the Spartan most engaged our view:
Ulysses, seated, greater reverence drew.
When Atreus' son harangued the listening 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 raised 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!
Wondering we hear, and, fix'd in deep surprise,
Our ears refute the censure of our eyes."
The king then ask'd, as yet the camp he viewed,
"What chief is that, with giant strength endued,
Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swelling chest,
And lofty stature, far exceed the rest?"
"Ajax the great," the beauteous queen replied; "Himself a host: the Grecian strength and pride. See! bold Idomeneus superior towers
Amidst yon circle of his Cretan powers,
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 numerous 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 refused to sail the seas:
Perhaps their swords some nobler quarrel draws,
Ashamed to combat in their sister's cause."
So spoke the fair, nor knew her brothers' 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 through the crowded town
Bring the rich wine and destined victims down.
Idæus' arms the golden goblets press'd,
Who thus the venerable king address'd:
"Arise, O father of the Trojan state!
The nations call, thy joyful people wait
To seal the truce, and end the dire debate.
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