University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Field of Battle, the Greeks flying.
Chalcas, Ulysses, Agamemnon, &c. &c.
Chal.
Think, warriors, think upon your former fame,
You yet can save us if you will but turn;
Flight is destruction; Hector raging comes
Like sweeping flame, and vaunting of his gods
Calls Jove his sire! O if your hearts retain
One spark of ancient emulation, turn,
Avenge yourselves, and vindicate the heavens.

[Exit.
Ulys.
O lasting infamy! O last disgrace!
Gods! what a prodigy surprises here;
Fly we from Troy, from Troy's oft vanquish'd bands?
Halt, cowards, halt! halt, dastards dead to shame!

[Exit.
Agam.
Tremendous Jove, thou aid of the distrest,
Was ever king like me so wretched made?
Whence is thy favor to an impious foe,
An atheist crew, abandon'd and unjust?
At altars heap'd with smoking sacrifice,
I ask'd destruction of the Trojan race:
Now, God austere, far humbler is my prayer,
Save but our relics from dread Hector's hand.

[Exeunt.
Thunder. Enter Hector and Trojans.
Hect.
Hear ye the voice of Jove? Success and fame
Wait on our ensigns, and the flying Greeks
For sculking shelter cower behind their wall;
They thought on ours to raise their haughty crests,
And to such ruin as their own shall sink,
To heave the towers of Troy. Come, let us on;
And when before yon fated ships ye fight,
Fight all with fire, and blazing torches hurl,
Till we have wrapt them in one general flame.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Tent of Achilles.
Achilles, Ulysses, &c. &c.
Achil.
Princes, all hail! welcome, though Greeks. To me
Ye come not foes, but to my heart are dearer
Than all that bear the name. Patroclus haste,
Fill up a larger cup with older wine,
For we shall mix our souls. Of all the host
Thy friend most values these, and these thy friend.

Ulys.
Hail to Achilles! happy are his guests,
Not higher honored they, that at the board
Of Agamemnon feast. But on our minds
Lie heavier cares, than feasts or bowls can ease.
Greece driven to the brink of fate implores
Thy aid, and owns no saving arm but thine:
Troy strides to vengeance, and her threatening tents
Darken our wall—Hark! how she shouts, and points
The desolating fire against our fleet.
For her the Father of the Gods declares,
And rolls for her the omen. Full of Jove,
See where proud Hector o'er the dead dilates,
And Heaven and earth defies. O must we, Gods!
To day inglorious feed the Trojan soil!
Return Achilles—Oh, though late, return
To serve thy friends, and stop the doom of Greece!

Ach.
What in my soul is fix'd, my tongue proclaims,
And action still confirms. Let Greece then know
My rivetted resolve, nor teaze in vain.
Long time, long toils I in her service bore;
But barren glory now has ceas'd to charm.
I sack'd twelve cities on the sea-beat coast;
And twelve I burnt upon the Trojan plain,
And at the haughty feet of your proud lord
Laid all the spoil. All he in peace obtained.
Presents to ev'ry prince were made, and theirs
They still enjoy; but I alone of all
Must mine restore. 'Tis I that must restore!
My share, mine only can his lust appease;
But let him use the woman as he may,
He has her now. Never my sword again
Shall be unsheath'd in any woman's cause!
Ye have my answer.

Ulys.
Prince, divinely brave,
Regard thy father's counsel, ere too late.
When in his arms he prest thee at departure,
Dost thou remember what his blessing was?
‘My son, may Juno and Minerva crown
Thy arms with strength and fame. Trust that to Heav'n:
Be thy own care thy passions to subdue;
Contention shun, and win by manners mild
The happy honors of urbanity.’
Such were his words—but words, alas! despised.
If thou wilt yield to Agamemnon's pray'r,
Gifts worthy thee—

Ach.
All gifts from him are hateful!
Kings of his cast stand but as cringing slaves
Before the noble mind. Not though he proffer'd
All he himself possess'd, and all his grasp
Could tear from others of their dearly won;
With all the ceaseless golden tide that flows
In Orchomenos' many-peopled bound;
Not all the wealth and countless stores that lie
In the magnificence of Thebes; though he
Heap'd bribes on bribes, with gems out-numb'ring all
The stars of heav'n, and sands on the sea-shore;
Should all these offers ask again my friendship,
'Tis he that offers, and I scorn them all!

Ulys.
The Gods themselves, bethink thee, mortal man,
Are mov'd by offerings, vows, and sacrifice.

Ach.
Thou hast said well; but at the tyrant's name
My rage rekindles, and my soul is fir'd!
Not till amidst the navy wrapt in flame
The Grecian blood to crimson stain the sea;
Not till the flames, by Hector's fury driven,
Consume your vessels, and approach my own;
Just then th'impetuous homicide shall stand
Depriv'd of triumph, and depriv'd by me.

[Exeunt all but Achilles and Patroclus.

SCENE III.

Ach.
What means this grief, Patroclus? why these tears?
Griev'st thou for me—or for my martial train?
Or some sad tidings from our native land?
Or for some meaner cause?—perhaps the fate
Of yonder Greeks, doom'd in their ships to pay
The forfeit of their proud imperious lord?

Pat.
Let Greece at length touch thy obdurate breast;
For every chief that might avert the doom
Lies bleeding, or lies dead.

Ach.
My wrongs—my wrongs!
These all my thoughts engage.

Pat.
Unpitying man!
Oh sure thou spring'st not from a soft embrace!
Thy country slighted in her last distress,
Who shall from thee mercy or justice hope?
No: men unborn shall curse thy stubborn mind,
Thy unforgiving and relentless heart!

Ach.
But hear me speak!—The wrong I grieve is past,
I fix'd its period, and the hour draws nigh.
Now Hector to my ships the battle drives;
I see his fires, and hear the Trojans shout.
Behold the thin remains of all the Greeks
On the last edge of yon deserted land!
It was not thus, when in the van of war
I gave the battle, and saw back in heaps
The proudest waves of Trojan valor roll
Before my coming tempest. Now from all,
The cry is Hector!—and his dreadful voice
Commands the slaughter, and commissions death!
But haste, Patroclus, hasten to the fight;
Now save the ships, repress the rising flames;
Yet heed my words, and mark thy friend's command,
Who trusts to thee his honor:—with full sweep
Rage o'er the hostile crew—drive uncontrould,
But touch not Hector—Hector is my prey!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The Field of Battle.
Ulys.
O friends! O heroes! names so fam'd, so dear—
What aids expect you, or what forts to save?
Nor aid, nor fortress, your retreat can gain;
There stand the Trojans, and here rolls the deep!

[Exit.

SCENE V.

The Battle.
Enter Patroclus and Soldiers.
Pat.
Ye soldiers, sharers of Achilles' fame,
Be mindful now of your acquired renown;
Proclaim by valor whom ye own for chief,
And add new honors to his mighty name!
Think that Achilles sees you as ye fight,
And mortify the haughty lord ye save.

Enter Hector.
Pat.
Hector, come on—and cease thy mighty threats;
Vain are the hopes thy insolence conceives,
To force the Greeks! Have we not hands and hearts?
Long ere thy fires shall on our ships descend,
Thy boasted city, and her God-built towers,
Shall smoke in ruins, scattered o'er the plain.

[They fight.
Hec.
Take that, Patroclus; and with thee lie there
The hope of seeing Ilion wrapt in flames,
And thy soft pleasures by her captives served.

Pat.
Presumptuous man, soon shalt thou lie as low;
Black Fate hangs o'er thee, and thy hour draws on.
The time shall come, when chased along the plain,
Even thou shalt vainly call thy Gods to save;
And wish, to aid thee in thy desperate flight,
The wings of eagles with the horse's speed.
Then shalt thou run forgetful of thy fame;
I see, I see thee by Achilles fall.

[Dies.
Hec.
Whence this prophetic bode—and why to me?
Why not as well Achilles' fate be given
To Hector's sword, as Hector's fate to his?

[Exit.
Enter Agamemnon.
Agam.
What! shall I quit Patroclus, slain for me!
Desert his arms—the relics of my friend!
No—rather let the cleaving earth engulph
Our squadrons for a sacrifice, than Troy
Shall boast the precious trophy of his corse.

Uly.
Fly to the fleet, this instant fly and tell
The sad Achilles that his friend is slain.
He too may haste to save the naked corse,
The arms are Hector's, and he bears the spoil.

[Exit.
Agam.
Who does not see that partial Jove bestows
Success and glory on the Trojan cause,
Whether the weak or strong assail. Secure
The winged fates all pierce the hearts of Greece,
Not so our shafts incessant though they shower,
The winds disperse them, and they fly in vain,
And on our sight confusing darkness falls.
O King, O Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth,
Dispel this cloud nor sink us in despair.

[Exeunt.
Hector (re-enters).
Hec.
This day we hop'd to crown our toils, and end
The dire invasion! but the Sun retires,
And coming darkness from our swords rescues
The trembling foe. Let us too here take aid
From the refreshing night—but lest the Greeks
Fly in the silence, sheltered by the gloom,
Let numerous fires the absent Sun supply,
Around the circuit of the city wall:
Let all the youth as yet unfit for arms,
And hoary men retreated from the field,
Keep wakeful watch, and let the matrons place
Lights in their windows and on all the towers,
Lest in the darkness the insidious foe
Assail the town defenceless by our absence—
Suffice to-night these orders. At the dawn
Be all in arms and ready for the fight,
Your breast-plates doubled by courageous hearts,
And with the ceaseless lightning of your swords,
Consume and drive the vultures from the land.
O let them not in safety from us fly,
But on each back some hostile mark inflict,
Some wound that long their joyless wives shall tend,
And warn their children from a Trojan war!