Mosaics of Grecian History Part 16

Now on the shield a choir appear'd to move, Whose flying feet the tuneful labyrinth wove; Youths and fair girls there, hand in hand, advanced, Timed to the song their steps, and gayly danced.

Round every maid light robes of linen flowed; Round every youth a glossy tunic glowed; Those wreathed with flowers, while from their partners hung Swords that, all gold, from belts of silver swung.

Train'd by nice art each flexile limb to wind, Their twinkling feet the measured maze entwined, Fleet as the wheel whose use the potter tries, When, twirl'd beneath his hand, its axle flies.

Now all at once their graceful ranks combine, Each rang'd against the other, line with line.

The crowd flock'd round, and, wondering as they view'd, Thro' every change the varying dance pursued; The while two tumblers, as they led the song, Turned in the midst and rolled themselves along.

Then, last, the G.o.d the force of Ocean bound, And poured its waves the buckler's...o...b..around.

--B. XVIII. SOTHEBY'S Trans.

Achilles Engages in the Fight.

Desire to avenge the death of Patroclus proves more powerful in the breast of Achilles than anger against Agamemnon, and, clad in his new armor, he is with difficulty restrained from rushing alone into the fight while his comrades are resting.

Turning and addressing his horses, he reproaches them with the death of Patroclus. One of them is represented as being Miraculously endowed with voice, and, replying to Achilles, prophesies his death in the near future; but, with unabated rage, the intrepid chief replies:

"So let it be!

Portents and prodigies are lost on me.

I know my fate: to die, to see no more My much-loved parents and my native sh.o.r.e.

Enough--when Heaven ordains I sink in night.

Now perish Troy!" he said, and rushed to fight.

Jupiter now a.s.sembles the G.o.ds in council, and permits them to a.s.sist either party. The poet vividly describes the terrors of the combat and the tumult that arose when "the powers descending swelled the fight." Achilles first encounters aene'as, who is preserved by Neptune; he then meets Hector, whom he is on the point of killing, when Apollo rescues him and carries him away in a cloud. The Trojans, defeated with terrible slaughter, are driven into the river Scamander, where Achilles receives the aid of Neptune and Pallas.

This Death of Hector.

Vulcan having dried up the Scamander in aid of the Trojans, all those who survive, save Hector, seek refuge in Troy. This hero alone remains without the walls to oppose Achilles. At the latter's advance, however, Hector's resolution and courage fail him, and he flees, pursued by Achilles three times around the city; At length he turns upon his pursuer, determined to meet his fate; and the account of the meeting and contest with Achilles, as translated by BRYANT, is as follows:

He spake, and drew the keen-edged sword that hung, Ma.s.sive and finely tempered, at his side, And sprang--as when an eagle high in heaven Through the thick cloud darts downward to the plain, To clutch some tender lamb or timid hare.

So Hector, brandishing that keen-edged sword, Sprang forward, while Achilles opposite Leaped toward him, all on fire with savage hate, And holding his bright buckler, n.o.bly wrought, Before him. As in the still hours of night Hesper goes forth among the host of stars, The fairest light of heaven, so brightly shone, Brandished in the right hand of Pe'leus' son, The spear's keen blade, as, confident to slay The n.o.ble Hector, o'er his glorious form His quick eye ran, exploring where to plant The surest wound. The glittering mail of bra.s.s Won from the slain Patroclus guarded well Each part, save only where the collar-bones Divide the shoulder from the neck, and there Appeared the throat, the spot where life is most In peril. Through that part the n.o.ble son Of Peleus drave his spear; it went quite through The tender neck, and yet the brazen blade Cleft not the windpipe, and the power to speak Remained.

And then the crested Hector faintly said: "I pray thee, by thy life, and by thy knees, And by thy parents, suffer not the dogs To tear me at the galleys of the Greeks.

Accept abundant store of bra.s.s and gold, Which gladly will my father and the queen, My mother, give in ransom. Send to them My body, that the warriors and the dames Of Troy may light for me the funeral pile."

The swift Achilles answered, with a frown: "Nay, by my knees entreat me not, thou cur, Nor by my parents. I could even wish My fury prompted me to cut thy flesh In fragments and devour it, such the wrong That I have had from thee. There will be none To drive away the dogs about thy head, Not though thy Trojan friends should bring to me Tenfold and twentyfold the offered gifts, And promise others--not though Priam, sprung From Dar'da.n.u.s, should send thy weight in gold.

Thy mother shall not lay thee on thy bier, To sorrow over thee whom she brought forth; But dogs and birds of prey shall mangle thee."

And then the crested Hector, dying, said: "I know thee, and too clearly I foresaw I should not move thee, for thou hast a heart Of iron. Yet reflect that for my sake The anger of the G.o.ds may fall on thee When Paris and Apollo strike thee down, Strong as thou art, before the Scae'an gates."

Thus Hector spake, and straightway o'er him closed The light of death; the soul forsook his limbs, And flew to Hades, grieving for its fate, So soon divorced from youth and youthful might.

The great achievement of Achilles was followed by funeral games in honor of Patroclus, and by the inst.i.tution of various other festivities. At their close Jupiter sends The'tis to Achilles to influence him to restore the dead body of Hector to his family, and sends Iris to Priam to encourage him to go in person to treat for it. Priam thereupon sets out upon his journey, and, having arrived at the camp of Achilles, thus appeals to his compa.s.sion:

Priam Begging for the Body of Hector.

"Think, O Achilles, semblance of the G.o.ds, On thine own father, full of days like me, And trembling on the gloomy verge of life.

Some neighbor chief, it may be, even now Oppresses him, and there is none at hand, No friend, to succor him in his distress.

Yet, doubtless, hearing that Achilles lives, He still rejoices, hoping day by day That one day he shall see the face again Of his own son, from distant Troy returned.

But me no comfort cheers, whose bravest sons, So late the flowers of Ilium, are all slain.

"When, Greece came hither I had fifty sons; But fiery Mars hath thinned them. One I had-- One, more than all my sons, the strength of Troy, Whom, standing for his country, thou hast slain-- Hector. His body to redeem I come Into Achaia's fleet, bringing, myself, Ransom inestimable to thy tent.

Rev'rence the G.o.ds, Achilles! recollect Thy father; for his sake compa.s.sion show To me, more pitiable still, who draw Home to my lips (humiliation yet Unseen on earth) his hand who slew my son!"

--COWPER'S Trans.

Achilles, moved with compa.s.sion, granted the request of the grief-stricken father, and sent him home with the body of his son. First to the corse the weeping Androm'ache flew, and thus spoke:

Lamentation of Andromache.

"And oh, my Hector! Oh, my lord! (she cries) s.n.a.t.c.hed in thy bloom from these desiring eyes!

Thou to the dismal realms forever gone!

And I abandoned, desolate, alone!

An only son, once comfort of our pains, Sad product now of hapless love, remains!

Never to manly age that son shall rise, Or with increasing graces glad my eyes; For Ilion now (her great defender slain) Shall sink a smoking ruin on the plain.

"Who now protects her wives with guardian care?

Who saves her infants from the rage of war?

Now hostile fleets must waft those infants o'er (Those wives must wait them) to a foreign sh.o.r.e: Thou too, my son, to barbarous climes shalt go, The sad companion of thy mother's woe; Or else some Greek whose father pressed the plain, Or son, or brother, by great Hector slain, In Hector's blood his vengeance shall enjoy, And hurl thee headlong from the towers of Troy."

[Footnote: Such was the fate of Astyanax, Hector's son, when Troy was taken:

"Here, from the tower by stem Ulysses thrown, Andromache bewailed her infant son."

--MERRICK'S Tryphiodo'rus.]

The death of Hector was also lamented by Helen, and her lamentation is thus spoken of by COLERIDGE: "I have always thought the following speech, in which Helen laments Hector, and hints at her own invidious and unprotected situation in Troy, as almost the sweetest pa.s.sage in the poem. It is another striking instance of that refinement of feeling and softness of tone which so generally distinguish the last book of the Iliad from the rest."

Helen's Lamentation.

"Ah, dearest friend! in whom the G.o.ds had joined The mildest manners with the bravest mind, Now twice ten years (unhappy years) are o'er Since Paris brought me to the Trojan sh.o.r.e; (Oh, had I perished ere that form divine Seduced this soft, this easy heart of mine!) Yet was it ne'er my fate from thee to find A deed ungentle, or a word unkind: When others cursed the auth.o.r.ess of their woe, Thy pity checked my sorrows in their flow: If some proud brother eyed me with disdain, Or scornful sister, with her sweeping train, Thy gentle accents softened all my pain.

For thee I mourn; and mourn myself in thee, The wretched source of all this misery.

The fate I caused forever I bemoan; Sad Helen has no friend, now thou art gone!

Through Troy's wide streets abandoned shall I roam!

In Troy deserted, as abhorred at home!"

--POPE'S Trans.

THE FATE OF TROY.

Homer's Iliad ends with the burial of Hector, and gives no account of the result of the war and the fate of the chief actors in the conflict. But in VIRGIL'S aene'id, which gives an account of the escape of aene'as, from the flames of Troy, and of his wanderings until he reaches the sh.o.r.es of Italy, the way in which Troy is taken, soon after the death of Hector, is told by aeneas to Dido, the Queen of Carthage. By the advice of Ulysses a huge wooden horse was constructed in the Greek camp, in which he and other Grecian warriors concealed themselves, while the remainder burned their tents and sailed away to the island of Ten'edos, behind which they secreted their vessels. aeneas begins his account as follows:

"By destiny compelled, and in despair, The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war, And by Minerva's aid a fabric reared Which like a steed of monstrous height appeared.

The sides were planked with pine: they feigned it made For their return, and this the vow they paid.

Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side Selected numbers of their soldiers hide; With inward arms the dire machine they load, And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.

"In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle (While Fortune did on Priam's empire smile) Renowned for wealth; but since, a faithless bay, Where ships exposed to wind and weather lay.

There was their fleet concealed. We thought for Greece Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.

The Trojans, cooped within their walls so long, Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng, Like swarming bees, and with delight survey The camp deserted where the Grecians lay.

The quarters of the sev'ral chiefs they showed-- Here Phoenix, here Achilles, made abode; Here joined the battles; there the navy rode.

"Part on the pile their wond'ring eyes employ-- The pile by Pallas raised to ruin Troy.

Thymoe'tes first ('tis doubtful whether hired, Or so the Trojan destiny required) Moved that the ramparts might be broken down To lodge the monster fabric in the town.