Or may some meaner caufe thy pity claim?
Perhaps yon reliques of the Grecian name,
Doom'd in their ships to fink by fire and sword,
And pay the forfeit of their haughty lord ?
Whate'er the caufe, reveal thy fecret care,
And fpeak thofe forrows which a friend would fhare.
A figh, that inftant, from his bofom broke,
Another follow'd, and Patroclus fpoke:
Let Greece at length with pity touch thy breaft,
Thyfelf a Greek; and, once, of Greeks the beft!
Lo! every chief that might her fate prevent,
Lies pierc'd with wounds, and bleeding in his tent.
Eurypylus, Tydides, Atreus' fon,.
And wife Ulyffes, at the navy groan,
More for their country's wounds than for their own.
Their pain, foft arts of pharmacy can ease,
Thy breaft alone no lenitives appeafe.
May never rage like thine my foul enslave,
O great in vain! unprofitably brave!
Thy country flighted in her last distress,
What friend, what man, from thee shall hope redress A
No-men unborn, and ages yet behind,
Shall curfe that fierce, that unforgiving mind.
O man unpitying! if of man thy race;
But fure thou fpring'st not from a foft embrace,
Nor ever amorous hero caus'd thy birth,
Nor ever tender: Goddefs brought thee forth.
Some rugged rock's hard entrails gave thee form, 50
And raging feas produc'd thee in a storm,
A foul well-fuiting that tempeftuous kind,
So rough thy manners, fo untam'd thy mind.
If fome 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 defert the war:
Without thy perfon Greece shall win the day,
And thy mere image chace her foes away.
Prefs'd by fresh forces, her o'erlabour'd train
Shall quit the ships, and Greece respire again.
Thus, blind to Fate! with fupplicating breath,
Thou begg'st his arms, and in his arms thy death. 65
Unfortunately good! a boding figh
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,
Thofe, my fole oracles, infpire my rage:
I made him tyrant: gave him power to wrong
Ev'n 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 mearest 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,
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, fave the fleets, and conquer in my right.
See the thin reliques of their baffled band,
At the last edge of yon deferted land!
Behold all Ilion on their fhips defcends;
How the cloud blackens, how the ftorm impends!
It was not thus, when, at my fight amaz'd,
Troy faw and trembled, as this helmet blaz'd:
Had not th' injurious king our friendship loft,
Yon ample trench had bury'd half her hoft.
No camps, no bulwarks, now the Trojans fear;
Thofe are not dreadful, no Achilles there:
No longer flames the lance of Tydeus' fon;
No more your general calls his heroes on;
Hector alone I hear; his dreadful breath
Commands your flaughter, or proclaims your death.
Yet now, Patroclus, iffue to the plain;
Now fave the ships, the rifing fires reftrain,
And give the Greeks to visit Greece again.
But heed my words, and mark a friend's command,
Who trufts his fame and honours in thy hand,
And from thy deeds expects, th' Achaian hoft
Shall render back the beauteous maid he loft.
Rage uncontrol'd through all the hoftile crew,
But touch not Hector, Hector is my due.
Though Jove in thunder should command the war ;
Be juft, confult my glory, and forbear:
The fleet once fav'd, defist from farther chace,
Nor lead to Ilion's walls the Grecian race;
Some adverse God thy rashness may destroy;
Some God, like Phœbus, ever kind to Troy.
Let Greece, redeem'd from this destructive strait, 120
Do her own work; and leave the reft 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;
Might only we the vast destruction fhun,
And only we destroy th' accursed town!
Such conference held the chiefs; while on the ftrand
Great Jove with conqueft crown'd the Trojan band.
Ajax no more the founding ftorm sustain'd,
So thick the darts an iron tempest rain'd :
On his tir'd arm the weighty buckler hung;
His hollow helm with falling javelins rung;
His breath, in quick, short pantings, comes and goes;
And painful fweat from all his members flows.
Spent and o'erpower'd, he barely breathes at most;
Yet fcarce an army ftirs him from his post:
Dangers on dangers all around him grow,
And toil to toil, and woe fucceeds to woe.
Say, Mufes, thron'd above the starry frame,
How first the navy blaz'd with Trojan flame?
Stern Hector wav'd his fword: and standing near
Where furious Ajax ply'd his afhen spear,
Full on the lance a stroke so justly sped,
That the broad falchion lopp'd its brazen head :
His pointless fpear the warriour shakes in vain ;
The brazen head falls founding on the plain.
Great Ajax faw, and own'd the hand divine,
Confeffing Jove, and trembling at the fign;
Warn'd, he retreats. Then fwift from all fides pour
The hiffing brands; thick ftreams the fiery shower;
O'er the high ftern the curling volumes rife,
And sheets of rolling smoke involve the skies.
Divine Achilles view'd the rifing flames,
And fmote his thigh, and thus aloud exclaims:
Arm, arm, Patroclus! Lo, the blaze aspires !
The glowing ocean reddens with the fires.
Arm, ere our veffels catch the spreading flame;
Arm, ere the Grecians be no more a name;
I hafte to bring the troops-the hero faid;
The friend with ardour and with joy obey'd.
He cas'd his limbs in brass; and first around
His manly legs with filver buckles bound
The clasping greaves; then to his breast applies
The flamy cuirafs, of a thousand dyes;
Emblaz'd with ftuds of gold his falchion fhone
In the rich belt, as in a starry zone:
Achilles' fhield his ample fhoulders 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 ftands,
Not to be pois'd but by Pelides' hands;
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