The Iliad - 23

That rich with Pallas’ labour’d colours glow’d:
Large clasps of gold the foldings gather’d round,
A golden zone her swelling bosom bound.
Far-beaming pendants tremble in her ear,
Each gem illumined with a triple star.
Then o’er her head she cast a veil more white
Than new-fallen snow, and dazzling as the light.
Last her fair feet celestial sandals grace.
Thus issuing radiant with majestic pace,
Forth from the dome the imperial goddess moves,
And calls the mother of the smiles and loves.
“How long (to Venus thus apart she cried)
Shall human strife celestial minds divide?
Ah yet, will Venus aid Saturnia’s joy,
And set aside the cause of Greece and Troy?”
“Let heaven’s dread empress (Cytheraea said)
Speak her request, and deem her will obey’d.”
“Then grant me (said the queen) those conquering charms,
That power, which mortals and immortals warms,
That love, which melts mankind in fierce desires,
And burns the sons of heaven with sacred fires!
“For lo! I haste to those remote abodes,
Where the great parents, (sacred source of gods!)
Ocean and Tethys their old empire keep,
On the last limits of the land and deep.
In their kind arms my tender years were past;
What time old Saturn, from Olympus cast,
Of upper heaven to Jove resign’d the reign,
Whelm’d under the huge mass of earth and main.
For strife, I hear, has made the union cease,
Which held so long that ancient pair in peace.
What honour, and what love, shall I obtain,
If I compose those fatal feuds again;
Once more their minds in mutual ties engage,
And, what my youth has owed, repay their age!”
She said. With awe divine, the queen of love
Obey’d the sister and the wife of Jove;
And from her fragrant breast the zone embraced,[233]
With various skill and high embroidery graced.
In this was every art, and every charm,
To win the wisest, and the coldest warm:
Fond love, the gentle vow, the gay desire,
The kind deceit, the still-reviving fire,
Persuasive speech, and the more persuasive sighs,
Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes.
This on her hand the Cyprian Goddess laid:
“Take this, and with it all thy wish;” she said.
With smiles she took the charm; and smiling press’d
The powerful cestus to her snowy breast.
Then Venus to the courts of Jove withdrew;
Whilst from Olympus pleased Saturnia flew.
O’er high Pieria thence her course she bore,
O’er fair Emathia’s ever-pleasing shore,
O’er Hemus’ hills with snows eternal crown’d;
Nor once her flying foot approach’d the ground.
Then taking wing from Athos’ lofty steep,
She speeds to Lemnos o’er the rolling deep,
And seeks the cave of Death’s half-brother, Sleep.[234]
“Sweet pleasing Sleep! (Saturnia thus began)
Who spread’st thy empire o’er each god and man;
If e’er obsequious to thy Juno’s will,
O power of slumbers! hear, and favour still.
Shed thy soft dews on Jove’s immortal eyes,
While sunk in love’s entrancing joys he lies.
A splendid footstool, and a throne, that shine
With gold unfading, Somnus, shall be thine;
The work of Vulcan; to indulge thy ease,
When wine and feasts thy golden humours please.”
“Imperial dame (the balmy power replies),
Great Saturn’s heir, and empress of the skies!
O’er other gods I spread my easy chain;
The sire of all, old Ocean, owns my reign.
And his hush’d waves lie silent on the main.
But how, unbidden, shall I dare to steep
Jove’s awful temples in the dew of sleep?
Long since, too venturous, at thy bold command,
On those eternal lids I laid my hand;
What time, deserting Ilion’s wasted plain,
His conquering son, Alcides, plough’d the main.
When lo! the deeps arise, the tempests roar,
And drive the hero to the Coan shore:
Great Jove, awaking, shook the blest abodes
With rising wrath, and tumbled gods on gods;
Me chief he sought, and from the realms on high
Had hurl’d indignant to the nether sky,
But gentle Night, to whom I fled for aid,
(The friend of earth and heaven,) her wings display’d;
Impower’d the wrath of gods and men to tame,
Even Jove revered the venerable dame.”
“Vain are thy fears (the queen of heaven replies,
And, speaking, rolls her large majestic eyes);
Think’st thou that Troy has Jove’s high favour won,
Like great Alcides, his all-conquering son?
Hear, and obey the mistress of the skies,
Nor for the deed expect a vulgar prize;
For know, thy loved-one shall be ever thine,
The youngest Grace, Pasithaë the divine.”[235]
“Swear then (he said) by those tremendous floods
That roar through hell, and bind the invoking gods:
Let the great parent earth one hand sustain,
And stretch the other o’er the sacred main:
Call the black Titans, that with Chronos dwell,
To hear and witness from the depths of hell;
That she, my loved-one, shall be ever mine,
The youngest Grace, Pasithaë the divine.”
The queen assents, and from the infernal bowers
Invokes the sable subtartarean powers,
And those who rule the inviolable floods,
Whom mortals name the dread Titanian gods.

[Illustration: ] SLEEP ESCAPING FROM THE WRATH OF JUPITER

Then swift as wind, o’er Lemnos’ smoky isle
They wing their way, and Imbrus’ sea-beat soil;
Through air, unseen, involved in darkness glide,
And light on Lectos, on the point of Ide:
(Mother of savages, whose echoing hills
Are heard resounding with a hundred rills:)
Fair Ida trembles underneath the god;
Hush’d are her mountains, and her forests nod.
There on a fir, whose spiry branches rise
To join its summit to the neighbouring skies;
Dark in embowering shade, conceal’d from sight,
Sat Sleep, in likeness of the bird of night.
(Chalcis his name by those of heavenly birth,
But call’d Cymindis by the race of earth.)
To Ida’s top successful Juno flies;
Great Jove surveys her with desiring eyes:
The god, whose lightning sets the heavens on fire,
Through all his bosom feels the fierce desire;
Fierce as when first by stealth he seized her charms,
Mix’d with her soul, and melted in her arms:
Fix’d on her eyes he fed his eager look,
Then press’d her hand, and thus with transport spoke:
“Why comes my goddess from the ethereal sky,
And not her steeds and flaming chariot nigh?”
Then she—“I haste to those remote abodes
Where the great parents of the deathless gods,
The reverend Ocean and gray Tethys, reign,
On the last limits of the land and main.
I visit these, to whose indulgent cares
I owe the nursing of my tender years:
For strife, I hear, has made that union cease
Which held so long that ancient pair in peace.
The steeds, prepared my chariot to convey
O’er earth and seas, and through the aerial way,
Wait under Ide: of thy superior power
To ask consent, I leave the Olympian bower;
Nor seek, unknown to thee, the sacred cells
Deep under seas, where hoary Ocean dwells.”
“For that (said Jove) suffice another day!
But eager love denies the least delay.
Let softer cares the present hour employ,
And be these moments sacred all to joy.
Ne’er did my soul so strong a passion prove,
Or for an earthly, or a heavenly love:
Not when I press’d Ixion’s matchless dame,
Whence rose Pirithous like the gods in fame:
Not when fair Danae felt the shower of gold
Stream into life, whence Perseus brave and bold.
Not thus I burn’d for either Theban dame:
(Bacchus from this, from that Alcides came:)
Nor Phœnix’ daughter, beautiful and young,
Whence godlike Rhadamanth and Minos sprung.[236]
Not thus I burn’d for fair Latona’s face,
Nor comelier Ceres’ more majestic grace.
Not thus even for thyself I felt desire,
As now my veins receive the pleasing fire.”
He spoke; the goddess with the charming eyes
Glows with celestial red, and thus replies:
“Is this a scene for love? On Ida’s height,
Exposed to mortal and immortal sight!
Our joys profaned by each familiar eye;
The sport of heaven, and fable of the sky:
How shall I e’er review the blest abodes,
Or mix among the senate of the gods?
Shall I not think, that, with disorder’d charms,
All heaven beholds me recent from thy arms?
With skill divine has Vulcan form’d thy bower,
Sacred to love and to the genial hour;
If such thy will, to that recess retire,
In secret there indulge thy soft desire.”
She ceased; and, smiling with superior love,
Thus answer’d mild the cloud-compelling Jove:
“Nor god nor mortal shall our joys behold,
Shaded with clouds, and circumfused in gold;
Not even the sun, who darts through heaven his rays,
And whose broad eye the extended earth surveys.”
Gazing he spoke, and, kindling at the view,
His eager arms around the goddess threw.
Glad Earth perceives, and from her bosom pours
Unbidden herbs and voluntary flowers:
Thick new-born violets a soft carpet spread,
And clustering lotos swell’d the rising bed,
And sudden hyacinths the turf bestrow,[237]
And flamy crocus made the mountain glow
There golden clouds conceal the heavenly pair,
Steep’d in soft joys and circumfused with air;
Celestial dews, descending o’er the ground,
Perfume the mount, and breathe ambrosia round:
At length, with love and sleep’s soft power oppress’d,
The panting thunderer nods, and sinks to rest.
Now to the navy borne on silent wings,
To Neptune’s ear soft Sleep his message brings;
Beside him sudden, unperceived, he stood,
And thus with gentle words address’d the god:
“Now, Neptune! now, the important hour employ,
To check a while the haughty hopes of Troy:
While Jove yet rests, while yet my vapours shed
The golden vision round his sacred head;
For Juno’s love, and Somnus’ pleasing ties,
Have closed those awful and eternal eyes.”
Thus having said, the power of slumber flew,
On human lids to drop the balmy dew.
Neptune, with zeal increased, renews his care,
And towering in the foremost ranks of war,
Indignant thus—“Oh once of martial fame!
O Greeks! if yet ye can deserve the name!
This half-recover’d day shall Troy obtain?
Shall Hector thunder at your ships again?
Lo! still he vaunts, and threats the fleet with fires,
While stern Achilles in his wrath retires.
One hero’s loss too tamely you deplore,
Be still yourselves, and ye shall need no more.
Oh yet, if glory any bosom warms,
Brace on your firmest helms, and stand to arms:
His strongest spear each valiant Grecian wield,
Each valiant Grecian seize his broadest shield;
Let to the weak the lighter arms belong,
The ponderous targe be wielded by the strong.
Thus arm’d, not Hector shall our presence stay;
Myself, ye Greeks! myself will lead the way.”

[Illustration: ] GREEK SHIELD

The troops assent; their martial arms they change:
The busy chiefs their banded legions range.
The kings, though wounded, and oppress’d with pain,
With helpful hands themselves assist the train.
The strong and cumbrous arms the valiant wield,
The weaker warrior takes a lighter shield.
Thus sheath’d in shining brass, in bright array
The legions march, and Neptune leads the way:
His brandish’d falchion flames before their eyes,
Like lightning flashing through the frighted skies.
Clad in his might, the earth-shaking power appears;
Pale mortals tremble, and confess their fears.
Troy’s great defender stands alone unawed,
Arms his proud host, and dares oppose a god:
And lo! the god, and wondrous man, appear:
The sea’s stern ruler there, and Hector here.
The roaring main, at her great master’s call,
Rose in huge ranks, and form’d a watery wall
Around the ships: seas hanging o’er the shores,
Both armies join: earth thunders, ocean roars.
Not half so loud the bellowing deeps resound,
When stormy winds disclose the dark profound;
Less loud the winds that from the Æolian hall
Roar through the woods, and make whole forests fall;
Less loud the woods, when flames in torrents pour,
Catch the dry mountain, and its shades devour;
With such a rage the meeting hosts are driven,
And such a clamour shakes the sounding heaven.
The first bold javelin, urged by Hector’s force,
Direct at Ajax’ bosom winged its course;
But there no pass the crossing belts afford,
(One braced his shield, and one sustain’d his sword.)
Then back the disappointed Trojan drew,
And cursed the lance that unavailing flew:
But ’scaped not Ajax; his tempestuous hand
A ponderous stone upheaving from the sand,
(Where heaps laid loose beneath the warrior’s feet,
Or served to ballast, or to prop the fleet,)
Toss’d round and round, the missive marble flings;
On the razed shield the fallen ruin rings,
Full on his breast and throat with force descends;
Nor deaden’d there its giddy fury spends,
But whirling on, with many a fiery round,
Smokes in the dust, and ploughs into the ground.
As when the bolt, red-hissing from above,
Darts on the consecrated plant of Jove,
The mountain-oak in flaming ruin lies,
Black from the blow, and smokes of sulphur rise;
Stiff with amaze the pale beholders stand,
And own the terrors of the almighty hand!
So lies great Hector prostrate on the shore;
His slacken’d hand deserts the lance it bore;
His following shield the fallen chief o’erspread;
Beneath his helmet dropp’d his fainting head;
His load of armour, sinking to the ground,
Clanks on the field, a dead and hollow sound.
Loud shouts of triumph fill the crowded plain;
Greece sees, in hope, Troy’s great defender slain:
All spring to seize him; storms of arrows fly,
And thicker javelins intercept the sky.
In vain an iron tempest hisses round;
He lies protected, and without a wound.[238]
Polydamas, Agenor the divine,
The pious warrior of Anchises’ line,
And each bold leader of the Lycian band,
With covering shields (a friendly circle) stand,
His mournful followers, with assistant care,
The groaning hero to his chariot bear;
His foaming coursers, swifter than the wind,
Speed to the town, and leave the war behind.
When now they touch’d the mead’s enamell’d side,
Where gentle Xanthus rolls his easy tide,
With watery drops the chief they sprinkle round,
Placed on the margin of the flowery ground.
Raised on his knees, he now ejects the gore;
Now faints anew, low-sinking on the shore;
By fits he breathes, half views the fleeting skies,
And seals again, by fits, his swimming eyes.
Soon as the Greeks the chief’s retreat beheld,
With double fury each invades the field.
Oilean Ajax first his javelin sped,
Pierced by whose point the son of Enops bled;
(Satnius the brave, whom beauteous Neis bore
Amidst her flocks on Satnio’s silver shore;)
Struck through the belly’s rim, the warrior lies
Supine, and shades eternal veil his eyes.
An arduous battle rose around the dead;
By turns the Greeks, by turns the Trojans bled.
Fired with revenge, Polydamas drew near,
And at Prothoënor shook the trembling spear;
The driving javelin through his shoulder thrust,
He sinks to earth, and grasps the bloody dust.
“Lo thus (the victor cries) we rule the field,
And thus their arms the race of Panthus wield:
From this unerring hand there flies no dart
But bathes its point within a Grecian heart.
Propp’d on that spear to which thou owest thy fall,
Go, guide thy darksome steps to Pluto’s dreary hall.”
He said, and sorrow touch’d each Argive breast:
The soul of Ajax burn’d above the rest.
As by his side the groaning warrior fell,
At the fierce foe he launch’d his piercing steel;
The foe, reclining, shunn’d the flying death;
But fate, Archilochus, demands thy breath:
Thy lofty birth no succour could impart,
The wings of death o’ertook thee on the dart;
Swift to perform heaven’s fatal will, it fled
Full on the juncture of the neck and head,
And took the joint, and cut the nerves in twain:
The dropping head first tumbled on the plain.
So just the stroke, that yet the body stood
Erect, then roll’d along the sands in blood.
“Here, proud Polydamas, here turn thy eyes!
(The towering Ajax loud-insulting cries:)
Say, is this chief extended on the plain
A worthy vengeance for Prothoënor slain?
Mark well his port! his figure and his face
Nor speak him vulgar, nor of vulgar race;
Some lines, methinks, may make his lineage known,
Antenor’s brother, or perhaps his son.”
He spake, and smiled severe, for well he knew
The bleeding youth: Troy sadden’d at the view.
But furious Acamas avenged his cause;
As Promachus his slaughtered brother draws,
He pierced his heart—“Such fate attends you all,
Proud Argives! destined by our arms to fall.
Not Troy alone, but haughty Greece, shall share
The toils, the sorrows, and the wounds of war.
Behold your Promachus deprived of breath,
A victim owed to my brave brother’s death.
Not unappeased he enters Pluto’s gate,
Who leaves a brother to revenge his fate.”
Heart-piercing anguish struck the Grecian host,
But touch’d the breast of bold Peneleus most;
At the proud boaster he directs his course;
The boaster flies, and shuns superior force.
But young Ilioneus received the spear;
Ilioneus, his father’s only care:
(Phorbas the rich, of all the Trojan train
Whom Hermes loved, and taught the arts of gain:)
Full in his eye the weapon chanced to fall,
And from the fibres scoop’d the rooted ball,
Drove through the neck, and hurl’d him to the plain;
He lifts his miserable arms in vain!
Swift his broad falchion fierce Peneleus spread,
And from the spouting shoulders struck his head;
To earth at once the head and helmet fly;
The lance, yet sticking through the bleeding eye,
The victor seized; and, as aloft he shook
The gory visage, thus insulting spoke:
“Trojans! your great Ilioneus behold!
Haste, to his father let the tale be told:
Let his high roofs resound with frantic woe,
Such as the house of Promachus must know;
Let doleful tidings greet his mother’s ear,
Such as to Promachus’ sad spouse we bear,
When we victorious shall to Greece return,
And the pale matron in our triumphs mourn.”
Dreadful he spoke, then toss’d the head on high;
The Trojans hear, they tremble, and they fly:
Aghast they gaze around the fleet and wall,
And dread the ruin that impends on all.
Daughters of Jove! that on Olympus shine,
Ye all-beholding, all-recording nine!
O say, when Neptune made proud Ilion yield,
What chief, what hero first embrued the field?
Of all the Grecians what immortal name,
And whose bless’d trophies, will ye raise to fame?
Thou first, great Ajax! on the unsanguined plain
Laid Hyrtius, leader of the Mysian train.
Phalces and Mermer, Nestor’s son o’erthrew,
Bold Merion, Morys and Hippotion slew.
Strong Periphaetes and Prothoon bled,
By Teucer’s arrows mingled with the dead,
Pierced in the flank by Menelaus’ steel,
His people’s pastor, Hyperenor fell;
Eternal darkness wrapp’d the warrior round,
And the fierce soul came rushing through the wound.
But stretch’d in heaps before Oïleus’ son,
Fall mighty numbers, mighty numbers run;
Ajax the less, of all the Grecian race
Skill’d in pursuit, and swiftest in the chase.

[Illustration: ] BACCHUS


BOOK XV.

ARGUMENT.

THE FIFTH BATTLE AT THE SHIPS; AND THE ACTS OF AJAX.

Jupiter, awaking, sees the Trojans repulsed from the trenches, Hector
in a swoon, and Neptune at the head of the Greeks: he is highly
incensed at the artifice of Juno, who appeases him by her submissions;
she is then sent to Iris and Apollo. Juno, repairing to the assembly of
the gods, attempts, with extraordinary address, to incense them against
Jupiter; in particular she touches Mars with a violent resentment; he
is ready to take arms, but is prevented by Minerva. Iris and Apollo
obey the orders of Jupiter; Iris commands Neptune to leave the battle,
to which, after much reluctance and passion, he consents. Apollo
reinspires Hector with vigour, brings him back to the battle, marches
before him with his ægis, and turns the fortune of the fight. He
breaks down great part of the Grecian wall: the Trojans rush in, and
attempt to fire the first line of the fleet, but are, as yet, repelled
by the greater Ajax with a prodigious slaughter.

Now in swift flight they pass the trench profound,
And many a chief lay gasping on the ground:
Then stopp’d and panted, where the chariots lie
Fear on their cheek, and horror in their eye.
Meanwhile, awaken’d from his dream of love,
On Ida’s summit sat imperial Jove:
Round the wide fields he cast a careful view,
There saw the Trojans fly, the Greeks pursue;
These proud in arms, those scatter’d o’er the plain
And, ’midst the war, the monarch of the main.
Not far, great Hector on the dust he spies,
(His sad associates round with weeping eyes,)
Ejecting blood, and panting yet for breath,
His senses wandering to the verge of death.
The god beheld him with a pitying look,
And thus, incensed, to fraudful Juno spoke:
“O thou, still adverse to the eternal will,
For ever studious in promoting ill!
Thy arts have made the godlike Hector yield,
And driven his conquering squadrons from the field.
Canst thou, unhappy in thy wiles, withstand
Our power immense, and brave the almighty hand?
Hast thou forgot, when, bound and fix’d on high,
From the vast concave of the spangled sky,
I hung thee trembling in a golden chain,
And all the raging gods opposed in vain?
Headlong I hurl’d them from the Olympian hall,
Stunn’d in the whirl, and breathless with the fall.
For godlike Hercules these deeds were done,
Nor seem’d the vengeance worthy such a son:
When, by thy wiles induced, fierce Boreas toss’d
The shipwreck’d hero on the Coan coast,
Him through a thousand forms of death I bore,
And sent to Argos, and his native shore.
Hear this, remember, and our fury dread,
Nor pull the unwilling vengeance on thy head;
Lest arts and blandishments successless prove,
Thy soft deceits, and well-dissembled love.”
The Thunderer spoke: imperial Juno mourn’d,
And, trembling, these submissive words return’d:
“By every oath that powers immortal ties,
The foodful earth and all-infolding skies;
By thy black waves, tremendous Styx! that flow
Through the drear realms of gliding ghosts below;
By the dread honours of thy sacred head,
And that unbroken vow, our virgin bed!
Not by my arts the ruler of the main
Steeps Troy in blood, and ranges round the plain:
By his own ardour, his own pity sway’d,
To help his Greeks, he fought and disobey’d:
Else had thy Juno better counsels given,
And taught submission to the sire of heaven.”
“Think’st thou with me? fair empress of the skies!
(The immortal father with a smile replies;)
Then soon the haughty sea-god shall obey,
Nor dare to act but when we point the way.
If truth inspires thy tongue, proclaim our will
To yon bright synod on the Olympian hill;
Our high decree let various Iris know,
And call the god that bears the silver bow.
Let her descend, and from the embattled plain
Command the sea-god to his watery reign:
While Phœbus hastes great Hector to prepare
To rise afresh, and once more wake the war:
His labouring bosom re-inspires with breath,
And calls his senses from the verge of death.
Greece chased by Troy, even to Achilles’ fleet,
Shall fall by thousands at the hero’s feet.
He, not untouch’d with pity, to the plain
Shall send Patroclus, but shall send in vain.
What youths he slaughters under Ilion’s walls!
Even my loved son, divine Sarpedon, falls!
Vanquish’d at last by Hector’s lance he lies.
Then, nor till then, shall great Achilles rise:
And lo! that instant, godlike Hector dies.
From that great hour the war’s whole fortune turns,
Pallas assists, and lofty Ilion burns.
Not till that day shall Jove relax his rage,
Nor one of all the heavenly host engage
In aid of Greece. The promise of a god
I gave, and seal’d it with the almighty nod,
Achilles’ glory to the stars to raise;
Such was our word, and fate the word obeys.”
The trembling queen (the almighty order given)
Swift from the Idaean summit shot to heaven.
As some wayfaring man, who wanders o’er
In thought a length of lands he trod before,
Sends forth his active mind from place to place,
Joins hill to dale, and measures space with space:
So swift flew Juno to the bless’d abodes,
If thought of man can match the speed of gods.
There sat the powers in awful synod placed;
They bow’d, and made obeisance as she pass’d
Through all the brazen dome:[239] with goblets crown’d
They hail her queen; the nectar streams around.
Fair Themis first presents the golden bowl,
And anxious asks what cares disturb her soul?
To whom the white-arm’d goddess thus replies:
“Enough thou know’st the tyrant of the skies,
Severely bent his purpose to fulfil,
Unmoved his mind, and unrestrain’d his will.
Go thou, the feasts of heaven attend thy call;
Bid the crown’d nectar circle round the hall:
But Jove shall thunder through the ethereal dome
Such stern decrees, such threaten’d woes to come,
As soon shall freeze mankind with dire surprise,
And damp the eternal banquets of the skies.”
The goddess said, and sullen took her place;
Black horror sadden’d each celestial face.
To see the gathering grudge in every breast,
Smiles on her lips a spleenful joy express’d;
While on her wrinkled front, and eyebrow bent,
Sat stedfast care, and lowering discontent.
Thus she proceeds—“Attend, ye powers above!
But know, ’tis madness to contest with Jove:
Supreme he sits; and sees, in pride of sway.
Your vassal godheads grudgingly obey:
Fierce in the majesty of power controls;
Shakes all the thrones of heaven, and bends the poles.
Submiss, immortals! all he wills, obey:
And thou, great Mars, begin and show the way.
Behold Ascalaphus! behold him die,
But dare not murmur, dare not vent a sigh;
Thy own loved boasted offspring lies o’erthrown,
If that loved boasted offspring be thy own.”
Stern Mars, with anguish for his slaughter’d son,
Smote his rebelling breast, and fierce begun:
“Thus then, immortals! thus shall Mars obey;
Forgive me, gods, and yield my vengeance way:
Descending first to yon forbidden plain,
The god of battles dares avenge the slain;
Dares, though the thunder bursting o’er my head
Should hurl me blazing on those heaps of dead.”
With that he gives command to Fear and Flight
To join his rapid coursers for the fight:
Then grim in arms, with hasty vengeance flies;
Arms that reflect a radiance through the skies.
And now had Jove, by bold rebellion driven,
Discharged his wrath on half the host of heaven;
But Pallas, springing through the bright abode,
Starts from her azure throne to calm the god.
Struck for the immortal race with timely fear,
From frantic Mars she snatch’d the shield and spear;
Then the huge helmet lifting from his head,
Thus to the impetuous homicide she said:
“By what wild passion, furious! art thou toss’d?
Striv’st thou with Jove? thou art already lost.
Shall not the Thunderer’s dread command restrain,
And was imperial Juno heard in vain?
Back to the skies wouldst thou with shame be driven,
And in thy guilt involve the host of heaven?
Ilion and Greece no more should Jove engage,
The skies would yield an ampler scene of rage;
Guilty and guiltless find an equal fate
And one vast ruin whelm the Olympian state.
Cease then thy offspring’s death unjust to call;
Heroes as great have died, and yet shall fall.
Why should heaven’s law with foolish man comply
Exempted from the race ordain’d to die?”
This menace fix’d the warrior to his throne;
Sullen he sat, and curb’d the rising groan.
Then Juno call’d (Jove’s orders to obey)
The winged Iris, and the god of day.
“Go wait the Thunderer’s will (Saturnia cried)
On yon tall summit of the fountful Ide:
There in the father’s awful presence stand,
Receive, and execute his dread command.”
She said, and sat; the god that gilds the day,
And various Iris, wing their airy way.
Swift as the wind, to Ida’s hills they came,
(Fair nurse of fountains, and of savage game)
There sat the eternal; he whose nod controls
The trembling world, and shakes the steady poles.