To noble Agamemnon introduced

  Exulting Ajax, and the King of men

  In honor of the conqueror slew an ox

  Of the fifth year to Jove omnipotent.

  Him flaying first, they carved him next and spread

  The whole abroad, then, scoring deep the flesh,

  They pierced it with the spits, and from the spits

  (Once roasted well) withdrew it all again.

  Their labor thus accomplish'd, and the board

  Furnish'd with plenteous cheer, they feasted all

  Till all were satisfied; nor Ajax miss'd

  The conqueror's meed, to whom the hero-king

  Wide-ruling Agamemnon, gave the chine

  Perpetual, his distinguish'd portion due.

  The calls of hunger and of thirst at length

  Both well sufficed, thus, foremost of them all

  The ancient Nestor, whose advice had oft

  Proved salutary, prudent thus began.

  Chiefs of Achaia, and thou, chief of all,

  Great Agamemnon! Many of our host

  Lie slain, whose blood sprinkles, in battle shed,

  The banks of smooth Scamander, and their souls

  Have journey'd down into the realms of death.

  To-morrow, therefore, let the battle pause

  As need requires, and at the peep of day

  With mules and oxen, wheel ye from all parts

  The dead, that we may burn them near the fleet.

  So, home to Greece returning, will we give

  The fathers' ashes to the children's care.

  Accumulating next, the pile around,

  One common tomb for all, with brisk dispatch

  We will upbuild for more secure defence

  Of us and of our fleet, strong towers and tall

  Adjoining to the tomb, and every tower

  Shall have its ponderous gate, commodious pass

  Affording to the mounted charioteer.

  And last, without those towers and at their foot,

  Dig we a trench, which compassing around

  Our camp, both steeds and warriors shall exclude,

  And all fierce inroad of the haughty foe.

  So counsell'd he, whom every Chief approved.

  In Troy meantime, at Priam's gate beside

  The lofty citadel, debate began

  The assembled senators between, confused,

  Clamorous, and with furious heat pursued,

  When them Antenor, prudent, thus bespake.

  Ye Trojans, Dardans, and allies of Troy,

  My counsel hear! Delay not. Instant yield

  To the Atridæ, hence to be convey'd,

  Helen of Greece with all that is her own.

  For charged with violated oaths we fight,

  And hope I none conceive that aught by us

  Design'd shall prosper, unless so be done.

  He spake and sat; when from his seat arose

  Paris, fair Helen's noble paramour,

  Who thus with speech impassion'd quick replied.

  Antenor! me thy counsel hath not pleased;

  Thou could'st have framed far better; but if this

  Be thy deliberate judgment, then the Gods

  Make thy deliberate judgment nothing worth.

  But I will speak myself. Ye Chiefs of Troy,

  I tell you plain. I will not yield my spouse.

  But all her treasures to our house convey'd

  From Argos, those will I resign, and add

  Still other compensation from my own.

  Thus Paris said and sat; when like the Gods

  Themselves in wisdom, from his seat uprose

  Dardanian Priam, who them thus address'd.

  Trojans, Dardanians, and allies of Troy!

  I shall declare my sentence; hear ye me.

  Now let the legions, as at other times,

  Take due refreshment; let the watch be set,

  And keep ye vigilant guard. At early dawn

  We will dispatch Idæus to the fleet,

  Who shall inform the Atridæ of this last

  Resolve of Paris, author of the war.

  Discreet Idæus also shall propose

  A respite (if the Atridæ so incline)

  From war's dread clamor, while we burn the dead.

  Then will we clash again, till heaven at length

  Shall part us, and the doubtful strife decide.

  He ceased, whose voice the assembly pleased, obey'd.

  Then, troop by troop, the army took repast,

  And at the dawn Idæus sought the fleet.

  He found the Danaï, servants of Mars,

  Beside the stern of Agamemnon's ship

  Consulting; and amid the assembled Chiefs

  Arrived, with utterance clear them thus address'd.

  Ye sons of Atreus, and ye Chiefs, the flower

  Of all Achaia! Priam and the Chiefs

  Of Ilium, bade me to your ear impart

  (If chance such embassy might please your ear)

  The mind of Paris, author of the war.

  The treasures which on board his ships he brought

  From Argos home (oh, had he perish'd first!)

  He yields them with addition from his own.

  Not so the consort of the glorious prince

  Brave Menelaus; her (although in Troy

  All counsel otherwise) he still detains.

  Thus too I have in charge. Are ye inclined

  That the dread sounding clamors of the field

  Be caused to cease till we shall burn the dead?

  Then will we clash again, 'till heaven at length

  Shall part us, and the doubtful strife decide.

  So spake Idæus, and all silent sat;

  Till at the last brave Diomede replied.

  No. We will none of Paris' treasures now,

  Nor even Helen's self. A child may see

  Destruction winging swift her course to Troy.

  He said. The admiring Greeks with loud applause

  All praised the speech of warlike Diomede,

  And answer thus the King of men return'd.

  Idæus! thou hast witness'd the resolve

  Of the Achaian Chiefs, whose choice is mine.

  But for the slain, I shall not envy them

  A funeral pile; the spirit fled, delay

  Suits not. Last rites can not too soon be paid.

  Burn them. And let high-thundering Jove attest

  Himself mine oath, that war shall cease the while.

  So saying, he to all the Gods upraised

  His sceptre, and Idæus homeward sped

  To sacred Ilium. The Dardanians there

  And Trojans, all assembled, his return

  Expected anxious. He amid them told

  Distinct his errand, when, at once dissolved,

  The whole assembly rose, these to collect

  The scatter'd bodies, those to gather wood;

  While on the other side, the Greeks arose

  As sudden, and all issuing from the fleet

  Sought fuel, some, and some, the scatter'd dead.

  Now from the gently-swelling flood profound

  The sun arising, with his earliest rays

  In his ascent to heaven smote on the fields.

  When Greeks and Trojans met. Scarce could the slain

  Be clear distinguish'd, but they cleansed from each

  His clotted gore with water, and warm tears

  Distilling copious, heaved them to the wains.

  But wailing none was heard, for such command

  Had Priam issued; therefore heaping high

  The bodies, silent and with sorrowing hearts

  They burn'd them, and to sacred Troy return'd.

  The Grecians also, on the funeral pile

  The bodies heaping sad, burn'd them with fire

  Together, and return'd into the fleet.

  Then, ere the peep of dawn, and while the veil

  Of night, though thinner, still o'erhung the earth,

  Achaians, chosen from the rest, the pile

  Encompass'd. With a tomb (one tomb for all)

  They crown'd the spot adust, and to the tomb

  (For safety of their fleet and of themselves)

  Strong fortress added of high wall and tower,

  With solid gates affording egress thence

  Commodious to the mounted charioteer;

  Deep foss and broad they also dug without,

  And planted it with piles. So toil'd the Greeks.

  The Gods, that mighty labor, from beside

  The Thunderer's throne with admiration view'd,

  When Neptune, shaker of the shores, began.

  Eternal father! is there on the face

  Of all the boundless earth one mortal man

  Who will, in times to come, consult with heaven?

  See'st thou yon height of wall, and yon deep trench

  With which the Grecians have their fleet inclosed,

  And, careless of our blessing, hecatomb

  Or invocation have presented none?

  Far as the day-spring shoots herself abroad,

  So far the glory of this work shall spread,

  While Phœbus and myself, who, toiling hard,

  Built walls for king Laomedon, shall see

  Forgotten all the labor of our hands.

  To whom, indignant, thus high-thundering Jove.

  Oh thou, who shakest the solid earth at will,

  What hast thou spoken? An inferior power,

  A god of less sufficiency than thou,

  Might be allowed some fear from such a cause.

  Fear not. Where'er the morning shoots her beams,

  Thy glory shall be known; and when the Greeks

  Shall seek their country through the waves again,

  Then break this bulwark down, submerge it whole,

  And spreading deep with sand the spacious shore

  As at the first, leave not a trace behind.

  Such conference held the Gods; and now the sun

  Went down, and, that great work perform'd, the Greeks

  From tent to tent slaughter'd the fatted ox

  And ate their evening cheer. Meantime arrived

  Large fleet with Lemnian wine; Euneus, son

  Of Jason and Hypsipile, that fleet

  From Lemnos freighted, and had stow'd on board

  A thousand measures from the rest apart

  For the Atridæ; but the host at large

  By traffic were supplied; some barter'd brass,

  Others bright steel; some purchased wine with hides,

  These with their cattle, with their captives those,

  And the whole host prepared a glad regale.

  All night the Grecians feasted, and the host

  Of Ilium, and all night deep-planning Jove

  Portended dire calamities to both,

  Thundering tremendous! — Pale was every cheek;

  Each pour'd his goblet on the ground, nor dared

  The hardiest drink, 'till he had first perform'd

  Libation meet to the Saturnian King

  Omnipotent; then, all retiring, sought

  Their couches, and partook the gift of sleep.

  * * *

  BOOK VIII.

  * * *

  ARGUMENT OF THE EIGHTH BOOK.

  Jove calls a council, in which he forbids all interference of the Gods between the Greeks and Trojans. He repairs to Ida, where, having consulted the scales of destiny, he directs his lightning against the Grecians. Nestor is endangered by the death of one of his horses. Diomede delivers him. In the chariot of Diomede they both hasten to engage Hector, whose charioteer is slain by Diomede. Jupiter again interposes by his thunders, and the whole Grecian host, discomfited, is obliged to seek refuge within the rampart. Diomede, with others, at sight of a favorable omen sent from Jove in answer to Agamemnon's prayer, sallies. Teucer performs great exploits, but is disabled by Hector. Juno and Pallas set forth from Olympus in aid of the Grecians, but are stopped by Jupiter, who reascends from Ida, and in heaven foretells the distresses which await the Grecians.

  Hector takes measures for the security of Troy during the night, and prepares his host for an assault to be made on the Grecian camp in the morning.

  * * *

  BOOK VIII.

  The saffron-mantled morning now was spread

  O'er all the nations, when the Thunderer Jove

  On the deep-fork'd Olympian topmost height

  Convened the Gods in council, amid whom

  He spake himself; they all attentive heard.

  Gods! Goddesses! Inhabitants of heaven!

  Attend; I make my secret purpose known.

  Let neither God nor Goddess interpose

  My counsel to rescind, but with one heart

  Approve it, that it reach, at once, its end.

  Whom I shall mark soever from the rest

  Withdrawn, that he may Greeks or Trojans aid,

  Disgrace shall find him; shamefully chastised

  He shall return to the Olympian heights,

  Or I will hurl him deep into the gulfs

  Of gloomy Tartarus, where Hell shuts fast

  Her iron gates, and spreads her brazen floor,

  As far below the shades, as earth from heaven.

  There shall he learn how far I pass in might

  All others; which if ye incline to doubt,

  Now prove me. Let ye down the golden chain

  From heaven, and at its nether links pull all,

  Both Goddesses and Gods. But me your King,

  Supreme in wisdom, ye shall never draw

  To earth from heaven, toil adverse as ye may.

  Yet I, when once I shall be pleased to pull,

  The earth itself, itself the sea, and you

  Will lift with ease together, and will wind

  The chain around the spiry summit sharp

  Of the Olympian, that all things upheaved

  Shall hang in the mid heaven. So far do I,

  Compared with all who live, transcend them all.

  He ended, and the Gods long time amazed

  Sat silent, for with awful tone he spake:

  But at the last Pallas blue-eyed began.

  Father! Saturnian Jove! of Kings supreme!

  We know thy force resistless; but our hearts

  Feel not the less, when we behold the Greeks

  Exhausting all the sorrows of their lot.

  If thou command, we, doubtless, will abstain

  From battle, yet such counsel to the Greeks

  Suggesting still, as may in part effect

  Their safety, lest thy wrath consume them all.

  To whom with smiles answer'd cloud-gatherer Jove.

  Fear not, my child! stern as mine accent was,

  I forced a frown — no more. For in mine heart

  Nought feel I but benevolence to thee.

  He said, and to his chariot join'd his steeds

  Swift, brazen-hoof'd, and mailed with wavy gold;

  He put on golden raiment, his bright scourge

  Of gold receiving rose into his seat,

  And lash'd his steeds; they not unwilling flew

  Midway the earth between and starry heaven.

  To spring-fed Ida, mother of wild beasts,

  He came, where stands in Gargarus his shrine

  Breathing fresh incense! there the Sire of all

  Arriving, loosed his coursers, and around

  Involving them in gather'd clouds opaque,

  Sat on the mountain's head, in his own might

  Exulting, with the towers of Ilium all

  Beneath his eye, and the whole fleet of Greece.

  In all their tents, meantime, Achaia's sons

  Took short refreshment, and for fight prepared.

  On the other side, though fewer, yet constrain'd

  By strong necessity, throughout all Troy,

  In the defence of children and wives

  Ardent, the Trojans panted for the field.

  Wide flew the city gates: forth rush'd to war

  Horsemen and foot, and tumult wild arose.

  They met, they clash'd; loud was the din of spears

  And bucklers on their bosoms brazen-mail'd

  Encountering, shields in opposition from

  Met bossy shields, and tumult wild arose.

  There many a shout and many a dying groan

  Were heard, the slayer and the maim'd aloud

  Clamoring, and the earth was drench'd with blood.

  'Till sacred morn had brighten'd into noon,

  The vollied weapons on both sides their task

  Perform'd effectual, and the people fell.

  But when the sun had climb'd the middle skies,

  The Sire of all then took his golden scales;

  Doom against doom he weigh'd, the eternal fates

  In counterpoise, of Trojans and of Greeks.

  He rais'd the beam; low sank the heavier lot

  Of the Achaians; the Achaian doom

  Subsided, and the Trojan struck the skies.

  Then roar'd the thunders from the summit hurl'd

  of Ida, and his vivid lightnings flew

  Into Achaia's host. They at the sight

  Astonish'd stood; fear whiten'd every cheek.

  Idomeneus dared not himself abide

  That shock, nor Agamemnon stood, nor stood

  The heroes Ajax, ministers of Mars.

  Gerenian Nestor, guardian of the Greeks,

  Alone fled not, nor he by choice remain'd,

  But by his steed retarded, which the mate

  Of beauteous Helen, Paris, with a shaft

  Had stricken where the forelock grows, a part

  Of all most mortal. Tortured by the wound

  Erect he rose, the arrow in his brain,

  And writhing furious, scared his fellow-steeds.

  Meantime, while, strenuous, with his falchion's edge

  The hoary warrior stood slashing the reins,

  Through multitudes of fierce pursuers borne

  On rapid wheels, the dauntless charioteer

  Approach'd him, Hector. Then, past hope, had died

  The ancient King, but Diomede discern'd

  His peril imminent, and with a voice

  Like thunder, called Ulysses to his aid.

  Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!

  Art thou too fugitive, and turn'st thy back

  Like the base multitude? Ah! fear a lance

  Implanted ignominious in thy spine.

  Stop — Nestor dies. Fell Hector is at hand.

  So shouted Diomede, whose summons loud,

  Ulysses yet heard not, but, passing, flew

  With headlong haste to the Achaian fleet.