University of Virginia Library

Thus Hector, great in Arms, contends in vain
To fix the Fortune of the fatal Plain,
Nor Troy cou'd conquer, nor the Greeks wou'd yield,
'Till bold Sarpedon rush'd into the Field;
For Mighty Jove inspir'd with Martial Flame
His God-like Son, and urg'd him on to Fame.
In Arms he shines, conspicuous from afar,
And bears aloft his ample Shield in Air,
Within whose Orb the thick Bull-hides were roll'd,
Pondrous with Brass, and bound with ductile Gold;
And while two pointed Jav'lins arm his Hands,
Majestick moves along, and leads his Lycian Bands.

So prest with Hunger, from the Mountain's Brow,
Descends a Lion on the Flocks below;
So stalks the Lordly Savage o'er the Plain,
In sullen Majesty, and stern Disdain:
In vain loud Mastives bay him from afar,
And Shepherds gaul him with an Iron War;
Regardless, furious, he pursues his way;
He foams, he roars, he rends the panting Prey.

Resolv'd alike, Divine Sarpedon glows
With gen'rous Rage, that drives him on the Foes.
He views the Tow'rs, and meditates their Fall;
To sure Destruction dooms the Grecian Wall;
Then casting on his Friend an ardent Look,
Fir'd with the Thirst of Glory, thus he spoke.

Why boast we, Glaucus, our extended Reign,
Where Xanthus' Streams enrich the Lycian Plain?
Our num'rous Herds that range each fruitful Field,
And Hills where Vines their Purple Harvest yield?
Our foaming Bowls with gen'rous Nectar crown'd,
Our Feasts enhanc'd with Musick's sprightly Sound?
Why on those Shores are we with Joy survey'd,
Admir'd as Heroes, and as Gods obey'd?
Unless great Acts superior Merit prove,
And Vindicate the bounteous Pow'rs above:
'Tis ours, the Dignity They give, to grace;
The first in Valour, as the first in Place:
That while with wondring Eyes our Martial Bands
Behold our Deeds transcending our Commands,
Such, they may cry, deserve the Sov'reign State,
Whom those that Envy dare not Imitate!
Cou'd all our Care elude the greedy Grave,
Which claims no less the Fearful than the Brave,
For Lust of Fame I shou'd not vainly dare
In fighting Fields, nor urge thy Soul to War.
But since, alas, ignoble Age must come,
Disease, and Death's inexorable Doom;
The Life which others pay, let Us bestow,
And give to Fame what we to Nature owe;
Brave, tho' we fall; and honour'd, if we live;
Or let us Glory gain, or Glory give!

He said, his Words the list'ning Chief inspire
With equal Warmth, and rouze the Warrior's Fire;
The Troops pursue their Leaders with Delight,
Rush to the Foe, and claim the promis'd Fight.
Menestheus from on high the Storm beheld,
Threat'ning the Fort, and black'ning in the Field;
Around the Walls he gaz'd, to view from far
What Aid appear'd t'avert th'approaching War,
And saw where Teucer with th'Ajaces stood,
Insatiate of the Fight, and prodigal of Blood.
In vain he calls, the Din of Helms and Shields
Rings to the Skies, and ecchoes thro' the Fields,
The Gates resound, the Brazen Hinges fly,
While each is bent to conquer or to die.
Then thus to Thoos;—Hence with speed (he said)
And urge the bold Ajaces to our Aid;
Their Strength united best may help to bear
The bloody Labours of the doubtful War:
Hither the Lycian Princes bend their Course,
The best and bravest of the Trojan Force.
But if too fiercely, there, the Foes contend,
Let Telamon at least our Tow'rs defend,
And Teucer haste, with his unerring Bow,
To share the Danger, and repel the Foe.

Swift as the Word, the Herald speeds along
The lofty Ramparts, through the Warlike Throng,
And finds the Heroes, bath'd in Sweat and Gore,
Oppos'd in Combate on the dusty Shore.
Strait to the Fort great Ajax turn'd his Care,
And thus bespoke his Brothers of the War:
Now valiant Lycomede, exert your Might,
And brave Oïleus, prove your Force in Fight:
To you I trust the Fortune of the Field,
'Till by this Arm the Foe shall be repell'd;
That done, expect me to compleat the Day:
Then, with his Sev'nfold Shield, he strode away.
With equal Steps bold Teucer prest the Shore,
Whose fatal Bow the strong Pandion bore.
High on the Walls appear'd the Lycian Pow'rs,
Like some black Tempest gath'ring round the Tow'rs:
The Greeks oppress'd, their utmost Force unite,
Prepar'd to labour in th'unequal Fight;
The War begins; mix'd Shouts and Groans arise;
Tumultuous Clamour mounts, and thickens in the Skies.
Fierce Ajax first th'advancing Host invades,
And sends the brave Epicles to the Shades,
Sarpedon's Friend; Across the Warrior's Way,
Rent from the Walls, a Rocky Fragment lay;
In modern Ages not the strongest Swain
Cou'd heave th'unwieldy Burthen from the Plain:
He poiz'd, and swung it round; then tost on high,
It flew with Force, and labour'd up the Sky;
Full on the Lycian's Helmet thundring down,
The pondrous Ruin crush'd his batter'd Crown.
As skilful Divers from some Airy Steep
Headlong descend, and shoot into the Deep,
So falls Epicles; then in Groans expires,
And murm'ring from the Corps th'unwilling Soul retires.

While to the Ramparts daring Glaucus drew,
From Teucer's Hand a winged Arrow flew,
The bearded Shaft the destin'd Passage found,
And on his naked Arm inflicts a Wound.
The Chief who fear'd some Foe's insulting Boast
Might stop the Progress of his warlike Host,
Conceal'd the Wound, and leaping from his Height,
Retir'd reluctant from th'unfinish'd Fight.
Divine Sarpedon with Regret beheld
Disabl'd Glaucus slowly quit the Field;
His beating Breast with gen'rous Ardour glows,
He springs to Fight, and flies upon the Foes.
Alcmaon first was doom'd his Force to feel,
Deep in his Breast he plung'd the pointed Steel,
Then from the yawning Wound with Fury tore
The Spear, pursu'd by gushing Streams of Gore;
Down sinks the Warrior, with a thundring Sound,
His Brazen Armour rings against the Ground.

Swift to the Battlement the Victor flies,
Tugs with full Force, and ev'ry Nerve applies;
It shakes; the pondrous Stones disjoynted yield;
The rowling Ruins smoak along the Field.
A mighty Breach appears, the Walls lye bare,
And like a Deluge rushes in the War.
At once bold Teucer draws the twanging Bow,
And Ajax sends his Jav'lin at the Foe;
Fix'd in his Belt the feather'd Weapon stood,
And thro' his Buckler drove the trembling Wood;
But Jove was present in the dire Debate,
To shield his Off-spring, and avert his Fate.
The Prince gave back; not meditating Flight,
But urging Vengeance and severer Fight;
Then rais'd with Hope, and fir'd with Glory's Charms,
His fainting Squadrons to new Fury warms.
O where, ye Lycians, is the Strength you boast,
Your former Fame, and ancient Virtue lost?
The Breach lyes open, but your Chief in vain
Attempts alone the guarded Pass to gain:
Unite, and soon that Hostile Fleet shall fall,
The Force of pow'rful Union conquers All.

This just Rebuke inflam'd the Lycian Crew,
They join, they thicken, and th'Assault renew;
Unmov'd, th'embody'd Greeks their Fury dare,
And fix'd support the Weight of all the War:
Nor cou'd the Greeks repell the Lycian Pow'rs,
Nor the bold Lycians force the Grecian Tow'rs.
As on the Confines of adjoyning Grounds,
Two stubborn Swains with Blows dispute their Bounds;
They tugg, they sweat; but neither gain, nor yield,
One Foot, one Inch, of the contended Field:
Thus obstinate to Death, they fight, they fall;
Nor these can keep, nor those can win the Wall:
Their Manly Breasts are pierc'd with many a Wound,
Loud Strokes are heard, and ratling Arms resound,
The copious Slaughter covers all the Shore,
And the high Ramparts drop with Human Gore.

As when two Scales are charg'd with doubtful Loads,
From side to side the trembling Balance nods,
'Till poiz'd aloft, the resting Beam suspends
Each equal Weight, nor this, nor that descends.
So Conquest loth for either to declare,
Levels her Wings, and hov'ring hangs in Air.
'Till Hector came, to whose Superior Might
Jove ow'd the Glory of the destin'd Fight.
Fierce as a Whirlwind, up the Walls he flies,
And fires his Host with loud repeated Cries:
Advance ye Trojans, lend your valiant Hands,
Haste to the Fleet, and toss the blazing Brands!
They hear, they run, and gath'ring at his Call,
Raise scaling Engines, and ascend the Wall:
Around the Works a Wood of glitt'ring Spears
Shoots up, and All the rising Host appears.
A pondrous Stone bold Hector heav'd to throw,
Pointed above, and rough and gross below:
Not two strong Men th'enormous Weight cou'd raise,
Such Men as live in these degen'rate Days.
Yet this, as easie as a Swain wou'd bear
The snowy Fleece; he tost, and shook in Air:
For Jove upheld, and lighten'd of its Load
Th'unwieldy Rock, the Labour of a God.
Thus arm'd, before the folded Gates he came,
Of massy Substance and stupendous Frame,
With Iron Bars and brazen Hinges strong,
On lofty Beams of solid Timber hung.
Then thundring thro' the Planks, with forceful Sway,
Drives the sharp Rock; the solid Beams give way,
The Folds are shatter'd, from the crackling Door
Leap the resounding Bars, the flying Hinges roar.
Now rushing in the furious Chief appears,
Gloomy as Night, and shakes two shining Spears;
A dreadful Gleam from his bright Armour came,
And from his Eye-balls flash'd the living Flame:
He moves a God, resistless in his Course,
And seems a Match for more than Mortal Force.
Then pouring after, thro' the gaping Space
A Tide of Trojans flows, and fills the Place;
The Greeks behold, they tremble, and they fly,
The Shore is heap'd with Death, and Tumult rends the Sky.