 | The poems of Dr. Yalden |  |
PATROCLUS'S REQUEST TO ACHILLES FOR HIS ARMS.
IMITATED FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE SIXTEENTH ILIAD OF HOMER.
Divine Achilles, with compassion mov'd,
Thus to Patroclus spake, his best-belov'd.
Thus to Patroclus spake, his best-belov'd.
“Why like a tender girl dost thou complain!
That strives to reach the mother's breast in vain;
Mourns by her side, her knees embraces fast,
Hangs on her robes, and interrupts her haste;
Yet, when with fondness to her arms she's rais'd,
Still mourns and weeps, and will not be appeas'd!
Thus my Patroclus in his grief appears,
Thus like a froward girl profuse of tears.
That strives to reach the mother's breast in vain;
Mourns by her side, her knees embraces fast,
Hangs on her robes, and interrupts her haste;
Yet, when with fondness to her arms she's rais'd,
Still mourns and weeps, and will not be appeas'd!
Thus my Patroclus in his grief appears,
Thus like a froward girl profuse of tears.
“From Phthia dost thou mournful tidings hear,
And to thy friend some fatal message bear?
Thy valiant father (if we Fame believe)
The good Menætius, he is yet alive:
And Peleus, though in his declining days,
Reigns o'er his Myrmidons in health and peace;
Yet, as their latest obsequies we paid,
Thou mourn'st them living, as already dead.
And to thy friend some fatal message bear?
Thy valiant father (if we Fame believe)
The good Menætius, he is yet alive:
And Peleus, though in his declining days,
Reigns o'er his Myrmidons in health and peace;
Yet, as their latest obsequies we paid,
Thou mourn'st them living, as already dead.
“Or thus with tears the Grecian host deplore,
That with their navy perish on the shore;
And with compassion their misfortunes view,
The just reward to guilt and falsehood due?
Impartial Heaven avenges thus my wrong,
Nor suffers crimes to go unpunish'd long.
Reveal the cause so much afflicts thy mind,
Nor thus conceal thy sorrows from thy friend.”
That with their navy perish on the shore;
And with compassion their misfortunes view,
The just reward to guilt and falsehood due?
Impartial Heaven avenges thus my wrong,
Nor suffers crimes to go unpunish'd long.
Reveal the cause so much afflicts thy mind,
Nor thus conceal thy sorrows from thy friend.”
When, gently raising up his drooping head,
Thus, with a sigh, the sad Patroclus said.
“Godlike Achilles, Peleus' valiant son!
Of all our chiefs, the greatest in renown;
Upbraid not thus th' afflicted with their woes,
Nor triumph now the Greeks sustain such loss!
To pity let thy generous breast incline,
And show thy mind is like thy birth divine.
For all the valiant leaders of their host,
Or wounded lie, or are in battle lost.
Ulysses great in arms, and Diomede,
Languish with wounds, and in the navy bleed:
This common fate great Agamemnon shares,
And stern Eurypylus, renown'd in wars.
Whilst powerful drugs th' experienc'd artists try,
And to their wounds apt remedies apply,
Easing th' afflicted heroes with their skill,
Thy breast alone remains implacable!
Thus, with a sigh, the sad Patroclus said.
“Godlike Achilles, Peleus' valiant son!
Of all our chiefs, the greatest in renown;
Upbraid not thus th' afflicted with their woes,
Nor triumph now the Greeks sustain such loss!
To pity let thy generous breast incline,
And show thy mind is like thy birth divine.
For all the valiant leaders of their host,
Or wounded lie, or are in battle lost.
Ulysses great in arms, and Diomede,
Languish with wounds, and in the navy bleed:
This common fate great Agamemnon shares,
And stern Eurypylus, renown'd in wars.
Whilst powerful drugs th' experienc'd artists try,
And to their wounds apt remedies apply,
Easing th' afflicted heroes with their skill,
Thy breast alone remains implacable!
“What, will thy fury thus for ever last!
Let present woes atone for injuries past:
How can thy soul retain such lasting hate!
Thy virtues are as useless as they're great.
What injur'd friend from thee shall hope redress,
That will not aid the Greeks in such distress?
Useless is all the valour that you boast,
Deform'd with rage, with sullen fury lost.
Let present woes atone for injuries past:
How can thy soul retain such lasting hate!
Thy virtues are as useless as they're great.
What injur'd friend from thee shall hope redress,
That will not aid the Greeks in such distress?
Useless is all the valour that you boast,
Deform'd with rage, with sullen fury lost.
“Could cruelty like thine from Peleus come,
Or be the offspring of fair Thetis' womb!
Thee raging seas, thee boisterous waves brought forth,
And to obdurate rocks thou ow'st thy birth!
Thy stubborn nature still retains their kind,
So hard thy heart, so savage is thy mind.
Or be the offspring of fair Thetis' womb!
Thee raging seas, thee boisterous waves brought forth,
And to obdurate rocks thou ow'st thy birth!
Thy stubborn nature still retains their kind,
So hard thy heart, so savage is thy mind.
“But, if thy boding breast admits of fear,
Or dreads what sacred oracles declare!
What awful Thetis in the courts above
Receiv'd from the unerring mouth of Jove!
If so—let me the threatening dangers face,
And head the warlike squadrons in thy place:
Whilst me thy valiant Myrmidons obey,
We yet may turn the fortune of the day.
Let me in thy distinguish'd arms appear,
With all thy dreadful equipage of war;
That when the Trojans our approaches view,
Deceiv'd, they shall retreat, and think 'tis you.
Or dreads what sacred oracles declare!
What awful Thetis in the courts above
Receiv'd from the unerring mouth of Jove!
If so—let me the threatening dangers face,
And head the warlike squadrons in thy place:
Whilst me thy valiant Myrmidons obey,
We yet may turn the fortune of the day.
Let me in thy distinguish'd arms appear,
With all thy dreadful equipage of war;
That when the Trojans our approaches view,
Deceiv'd, they shall retreat, and think 'tis you.
“Thus, from the rage of an insulting host,
We may retrieve that fame the Greeks have lost,
Vigorous and fresh, th' unequal fight renew,
And from our navy force the drooping foe;
O'er harass'd men an easy conquest gain,
And drive the Trojans to their walls again.”
We may retrieve that fame the Greeks have lost,
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And from our navy force the drooping foe;
O'er harass'd men an easy conquest gain,
And drive the Trojans to their walls again.”
| The poems of Dr. Yalden | |